By doing this they gain something for nothing. Those who accepted the counterfeits, on the other hand, have taken nothing for something, but not realizing this, they calculate their own future spending as if they had received more something. The primary effect of all this nothing being passed around is a discounting of the medium of exchange—seen by everybody as a rise in prices of everything else—as people lose the ability to distinguish between something and nothing.
The most important secondary effect is mass-scale malinvestment caused by the general false sense of prosperity. By the point at which there is more nothing being traded than some-30
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thing—our current situation—a hedonistic inversion is so rampant that even the bankers and politicians are losing. But by then it is much too late for them to save themselves—and they see little profit in saving us.
The cure for inflation is to stop inflating.
Elliot had known his father was under fire from high places for incessant—and widely reported—attacks on government economic policies, but Dr. Vreeland had told him that direct reprisals were relatively unlikely. A Nobel prize afforded some protection; the high public profile of a bestselling author, more; popularity among the million members of the radical Citizens for a Free Society, still more; and perhaps most important was his wide repute among the fiscally conservative delegates—
and personal friendship with the current chancellor—of EUCOMTO, the European Common Market Treaty Organization. What Dr. Vreeland now told Elliot was that while he had considered reprisals unlikely, he had not considered them out of the question—especially as a prelude to a major political upheaval of some sort—thus he had taken various precautionary measures. Among these were preparing secret caches and asylums for emergency retreat, with extensive contingency plans for each. He had also found it advisable to cultivate, through timely gifts to “underpaid officials,” loyalties that might be useful during uncomfortable periods.
Earlier that day this last had paid off: one of his friends in the Federal Bureau of Investigation had transmitted him a message that the Vreeland name had been found on a list of persons to be secretly arrested that coming weekend. “We leave tonight,” said Dr. Vreeland. “All of us. And probably from a country now a dictatorship.”
This simple proclamation shook Elliot’s sense of security almost as much as the earlier one declaring his father dead. While he had been aware of current political-economic devel- Alongside Night 31
opments—been steeped in them—he had never accepted emotionally that they might have personal consequences. Mr. Harper’s classroom warning was driven home as Elliot’s father explained what his sudden “death” was all about.
“We have little time and a lot to accomplish,” said Dr. Vreeland to Elliot and Denise. The three were at the dining table while Cathryn Vreeland prepared a long overdue lunch for herself and her husband. “Each of us has necessary tasks to perform with no room for error. One slip—even one you might think insignificant—may prove our downfall.”
“Any choice about what we have to do?”
Dr. Vreeland looked at Elliot seriously. “Certainly,” he replied, then paused several extended moments. “Listen, you two. You’re both old enough to make any crucial decisions about your lives. It’s much too late for me to impart values to you; but if you don’t have them, then I’m not much of a father. Ell, there are only two choices my situation allows me to offer you: either you leave now before you hear my plans—in which case you’re completely on your own as of now—or you accept my authority with out reservations until we’re safely out of the country.”
Ten seconds passed. No one spoke. Finally, Denise broke the silence: “Where are we going, Daddy?”
“Everything in due time, honey. Just let me proceed at my own pace.” Dr. Vreeland faced Elliot again. “You didn’t answer me.” Elliot answered slowly, deliberately. “You know what my answer is, Dad.”
Dr. Vreeland nodded. “Denise?”
“I’m in,” she said cheerfully. “Give my regards to Broadway.”
“Good. For the official record, then …”
Martin Vreeland, Ph.D (so the story would go), had died of a heart attack brought on by overwork and the tensions of his public position. The official death certificate would confirm 32
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this, and his personal physician’s records would document a nonexistent previous attack. Preceded by an immediate-family-only funeral service the next afternoon, the body was to be