Making Money

'Oh, there's a man down in the forni— the cellar who is designing a dollar note for me. Paper money, in fact.'

'Really? I'd love to see that.'

'You would?'

It was truly wonderful. Moist looked at the designs for the back and the front of the dollar note. Under Igor's brilliant white lights they looked rich as plum pudding and more complicated than a dwarf contract.

'We're going to make so much money,' he said aloud. 'Wonderful job, Owls— Mr Clamp!'

'I'm going to hold on to the Owlswick,' said the artist nervously. 'It's the Jenkins that matters, after all'

'Well, yes,' said Moist, 'there must be dozens of Owlswicks around.' He looked over at Hubert, who was on a stepladder and peering hopelessly at the tubing.

'How's it going, Hubert?' he said. 'The money still rushing around okay, is it?'

'What? Oh, fine. Fine. Fine,' said Hubert, almost knocking over the ladder in his haste to get down. He looked at Adora Belle with an expression of uncertain dread.

'This is Adora Belle Dearheart, Hubert,' said Moist, in case the man was about to flee. 'She is my fiancee. She's a woman,' he added, in view of the worried look.

Adora Belle held out her hand and said, 'Hello, Hubert.'

Hubert stared.

'It's okay to shake hands, Hubert,' said Moist carefully. 'Hubert's an economist. That's like an alchemist, but less messy.'

'So you know how the money moves around, do you, Hubert?' said Adora Belle, shaking an unresisting hand.

At last the notion of speech dawned on Hubert. 'I welded one thousand and ninety-seven joints,' he said, 'and blew the Law of Diminishing Returns.'

'I shouldn't think anyone's ever done that before,' said Adora Belle.

Hubert brightened up. This was easy! 'We are not doing anything wrong, you know!' he said.

'I'm sure you aren't,' said Adora Belle, trying to pull her hand away.

'It can keep track of every dollar in the city, you know. The possibilities are endless! But, but, but, um, of course we're not upsetting things in any way!'

'I'm very glad to hear it, Hubert,' said Adora Belle, tugging harder.

'Of course we are having teething troubles! But everything is being done with immense care! Nothing has been lost because we've left a valve open or anything like that!'

'How intriguing!' said Adora Belle, bracing her free hand on Hubert's shoulder and wrenching the other one from his grasp.

'We have to go, Hubert,' said Moist. 'Keep up the good work, though. I'm very proud of you.'

'You are?' said Hubert. 'Mr Cosmo said I was insane, and wanted Auntie to sell the Glooper for scrap!'

'Typical hidebound, old-fashioned thinking,' said Moist. 'This is the Century of the Anchovy. The future belongs to men like you, who can tell us how everything works.'

'It does?' said Hubert.

'You mark my words,' said Moist, ushering Adora Belle firmly towards the distant exit.

When they had gone, Hubert sniffed the palm of his hand and shivered. 'They were nice people, weren't they?' he said.

'Yeth, marthter.'

Hubert looked up at the glittering, trickling pipes of the Glooper, faithfully mirroring in its ebbing and flowing the tides of money around the city. Just one blow could rattle the world. It was a terrible responsibility.

Igor joined him. They stood in a silence broken only by the sloshing of commerce.

'What shall I do, Igor?' said Hubert.

'In the Old Country we have a thaying,' Igor volunteered.

'A what?'

'A thaying. We thay: "If you don't want the monthter you don't pull the lever".'

'You don't think I've gone mad, do you, Igor?'

'Many great men have been conthidered mad, Mr Hubert. Even Dr Hanth Forvord wath called mad. But I put it to you: could a madman have created a revoluthionary living-brain ecthtractor?'

'Is Hubert quite… normal?' said Adora Belle, as they climbed the marble staircases towards dinner.

'By the standards of obsessive men who don't get out into the sunlight?' said Moist. 'Pretty normal, I'd say.'

'But he acted as if he'd never seen a woman before!'

'He's just not used to things that don't come with a manual,' said Moist.

'Hah,' said Adora Belle. 'Why is it that only men get like that?'

Earns a tiny wage working for golems, thought Moist. Puts up with graffiti and smashed windows because of golems. Camps out in wildernesses, argues with powerful men. All for golems. But he didn't say anything, because he'd read the manual.

They had reached the managerial floor. Adora Belle sniffed. 'Smell that? Isn't that just wonderful?' she said. 'Wouldn't it turn a rabbit into a carnivore?'

'Sheep's head,' said Moist gloomily.

'Only to make the broth,' said Adora Belle. 'All the soft wobbly bits get taken out first. Don't worry. You've just been put off by the old joke, that's all'

'What old joke?'

'Oh, come on! A boy goes into a butcher's shop and says: "Mum says can we please have a sheep's head and you're to leave the eyes in 'cos it's got to see us through the week." You don't get it? It's using "see" in the sense of "to last" and also in the sense of, well, to see…'

'I just think it's a bit unfair to the sheep, that's all.'