chapter thirty

Andrew awoke to the sound of a dull monotonous moan. The left‑hand side of his body had been turned into lifeless plasticine by the many hours of contact with the hard concrete floor. He rolled painfully over onto his right‑hand side, his moaning gathered strength from the conscious mind and grew into higher‑pitched howls. He stood up and hobbled around the room trying to restore some vestige of feeling to his leg. Gradually his plasticine limbs thawed into painful flesh and blood.

He had spent the night stamping angrily up and down the platform in an attempt to keep warm. Dawn had arrived slowly and with it came the realization that he had spent the night feeling sorry for himself, instead of trying to solve the problem. He had used what little energy he had left to break into the ticket office, in the hope of finding somewhere comfortable to sleep, but it was completely bare, and he had no recourse but to sleep on the floor.

He stepped out of the office and into the sunshine, he glanced at his watch, it read 12.28, a small, automatic, mental calculation told him that it was, in fact, half past twelve.

Alex was still lying on top of Alice. Unaware of his jealous motives, Andrew moved Alex's stiff body so that it leant against the wall of the ticket office.

Andrew walked up and down the platform, and stared in both directions along the track, but nothing had changed, except that Alex and Alice were now a little less talkative.

He slumped on to a bench and forced himself to concentrate on the information he had gathered over the past few days. Everyone had a purpose; the purposes were 'good causes'; it was generally considered that the purpose was easier to achieve if you were rich; everyone worked hard to achieve first wealth, and then their goal. He shook his head in frustration. There must have been something that he had missed. He was nagged by the knowledge that every extra day he wasted was equivalent to over a week for Alice and Alex. By the time he had got to the next somewhere else, they may have moved on another step; he might never catch them up. But there was nothing he could do; he would have to go back to the town and search for the flaw there. He stood up, walked across the platform, jumped heavily onto the track and began plodding westwards.

At 3.39, which he translated, somewhat erroneously, into half past three, he arrived back in the centre of the town. He walked up and down the main streets. He had no idea of what he should be looking for, and consequently failed to notice anything. He stood on a street corner, wiping grit from his eye and wondering which way to go next. He knew that it didn't matter, but felt that a certain amount of logic should be applied to his decision. His eyes roved up and down the rows of shops searching for something of significance, then, suddenly, he saw it: a sign which promised the end of his problems. What the sign actually said was:

Financial investment & Tax Consultant.

Talk to Henry; he's got the answers to all your financial problems. When it comes to tax returns, he's a real demon.

Step inside for a free five minute consultation.

Andrew hurried across the street and stepped into the office. The office was small, cramped and untidy. As the door swung shut it rang a small bell attached to the top of the door‑frame. Moments later Henry emerged from a room at the back of the office. On seeing Andrew, his face lit up with delight. Andrew's lit up with hope and relief.

"Ah, Andrew, I was hoping you would pop in before you popped off, as it were," said Henry, his portrayal of a retired British Colonel apparently abandoned. "Please sit down." Henry sat down on a small swivel chair, lifted up his short legs and crossed his ankles, casually, on the corner of the cluttered desk which lay in front of him.

Andrew sat down on the other side of the desk. "You don't know how good it is to see you again, Henry."

"I'm flattered, but I don't suppose this is purely a social call. I presume that you have some financial questions for me."

"Oh Henry, please don't play games; you know exactly what kind of questions I've got for you."

Henry took his feet off the desk and leant over towards Andrew conspiratorially, "I know, I know," he whispered, "but I can't tell you anything like that, believe me, nothing at all."

"But it's not fair!" blurted Andrew childishly.

Henry raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness, "I'm afraid I'm just a financial consultant," he said leaning back in his chair and speaking normally again. "Of course, a good knowledge of finance can help to solve some of the more immediate problems of life." He winked suggestively.

"Really?" said Andrew fishing for a more explicit clue.

"Yes, indeed, it's amazing how the right financial question can provide a significant insight into the world around us, with all its many problems."

"Aha," said Andrew. "What kind of question do you think would be appropriate?"

"Well that's up to you, isn't it? If I asked the questions and answered them, there wouldn't be much point in you being here, would there? And, I might add, it would be terribly tedious for me. Imagine coming in for work every day, well when I say every day, I don't actually work every day, I usually take the weekends off. I've got a little boat which I take out on the river and do a spot of fishing. I don't usually catch very much, but that's not the point is it? Relaxation, that's the key, my father always used to say to me. Well not always, that's just a figure of speech - of course, I wouldn't imagine he said it more than ten times in his life, but then he died quite young; perhaps he would have said it more if he'd had the time. Talking of time, I'm afraid yours is up - you've had your free five minutes' worth."

"What?" said Andrew who had been thinking of a good question rather than following Henry's monologue.

"I have to start charging you for my time."

"Oh, okay."

"You have to pay in advance."

"Ah."

"Do you have any money?"

"Umm, not as such."

"Another figure of speech, which I assume means 'no'."

"Well, I had some but I burnt it."

"An admirable gesture against the capitalist system, but don't you think it was a little flamboyant?" asked Henry.

"I was just trying to keep warm, I must have been half delirious with the cold and lack of sleep. There was a fireplace in the Station Master's office and even some wood and matches. But I couldn't get the fire started, I was down to my last match and the money was the only kindling I could find."

"And did it burn?"

"Oh yes, the money created a beautiful blaze - for about two seconds - and then it went out."

"It's a sad story, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Oh come on, Henry," pleaded Andrew. "Give me a chance."

"Don't you have anything of value?"

"Uh, I've got a tin opener," offered Andrew weakly. "Oh, yes, and this watch," he held up his wrist.

"Now you know that's not a watch as well as I do, and I don't think it's very nice of you to try and trick me like that," said Henry, clearly offended.

"It works as a watch, I wasn't trying to trick you, it's just that I'm desperate, I'm sorry ... Isn't there something I can do for you?"

"All right, I'll swap you one question for a favour, repayable any time I choose, without quibble. Okay?"

"What kind of favour?" quibbled Andrew.

"I haven't thought of it yet; it could be anything."

"Nothing too drastic though?"

"I make no promises."

"Oh, all right, it's a deal."

"Okay, what's your question? And remember it has to be a question that any financial consultant could answer."

"Okay, here we go, um ... what - no, er, yes. Explain how capitalism works."

"Good question, yes, a very good question."

Andrew sighed with relief.

"Capitalism. Let's ignore the ideology for a moment, in fact let's ignore it altogether, dreadfully boring topic anyway, of course there are some people who find it interesting but those people are usually monumentally boring themselves, so I suppose anything would seem interesting to them, still it takes all sorts doesn't it? I always think the world would be a far less interesting place if it wasn't for all the boring people. I don't really know why I always think that because, on the face of it, it doesn't make a lot of sense, but I continue to think it whenever the subject comes up, which isn't too often ... I'm sorry what were you saying?"

"You," said Andrew patiently, "were saying that we should ignore the ideology of capitalism."

"Oh yes, quite right too. Let us concentrate on the real effects of capitalism as we see them in our everyday lives and not bother with the abstracts of theory. Capitalism, or free‑enterprise, is a socio‑economic system in which some people become very rich at the expense of the majority who remain relatively poor. In some other systems a day of work for one person has the same value as a day of work for any other person. Their efforts are considered equally worthwhile, of equal importance. Not so with capitalism. Capitalism relies on the fact that some skills are in greater demand than others. One of the most profitable skills consists simply of buying the work of other people and then selling that work to someone else. So capitalism is dependent on people allowing their work to be sold for more than they are paid for it," Henry paused and looked at Andrew expectantly.

"No, sorry I haven't got it yet."

"In order to become rich within a capitalist system you need a workforce that is willing, or perhaps too lazy to do otherwise, to work for a wage which is actually less than they could get if the sold their labour directly to the final buyer."

"Yeah, so?"

"You know I can't directly tell you the answer; you have to work it out for yourself. All right, let's try another tack. The more people who are aggressively capitalistic, the harder it is to become rich. Because of the increased competition, prices have to be lowered, and so, in turn, profits are lowered, wages are lowered, people have less money to spend so they buy less, profits are lowered still further et cetera, et cetera."

"Aha! I've got it! I think ... Yes! In this place everyone is fighting to get rich, but they can't because, under conditions of such intense competition, the value of one man's work is reduced to the same level as everyone else's. Wow, did I say that?"

Henry smiled proudly at his protege.

"But nothing's happening," said Andrew looking apprehensively about the room. "Isn't something peculiar supposed to happen?"

"Oh yes, I'd almost forgotten. I suppose I'll have to think of something new. I really don't know why we can't do the same thing every time. It's so difficult coming up with new ideas."

"Then it's you, you're behind it all!" said Andrew accusingly.

"Me!" said Henry incredulously and he began to laugh. The more he thought about it, the more he laughed. He tilted his head back and laughed at the ceiling, his mouth wide open and tears streaming from his eyes. Henry's mouth grew wider and wider, and the laugh grew louder and louder. Andrew felt as if the room was tilting forwards; it was trying to tip him into Henry's gaping mouth. Andrew gripped the chair in an attempt to stop himself falling into the cavernous opening. The laugh had now reached deafening proportions and Andrew was forced to let go of the chair and cover his ears. He fell slowly and irresistibly into the enormous black, teeth‑lined hole which had now engulfed most of the office.

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