or more to move in. Do you mean to tell me that nearly a fifth of them have tired of their homes—their own homes—and simply moved out?”
Barry said unhappily, “It’s not a unique phenomenon, Mr. Vanderfeller, as you must know. Most of the empty apartments are owned by people on NIT, and there’s a high level of ne’r-do-wells and weirds among those whose only source of income is Negative Income Tax.”
Vanderfeller maintained his severe expression.
Barry recrossed his long legs. “Sir, as you know, when the Asian War ended, several things came to a head. There was a danger of economic collapse, since, if we admitted it or not, the economy since the Hitler War had largely been based on war or the threat of war. By that time we were spending more than a hundred billion a year directly or indirectly on the military. You couldn’t simply pull that big a prop out from under without substituting another one. At the same time automation, the computer economy, hit with a vengeance. All of a sudden there was precious little need for employees in the primary labor fields.”
“Yes, yes,” Vanderfeller said impatiently.
Barry went on doggedly. “That’s where Negative Income Tax came in. Oh, they had other names for it, such as Guaranteed Annual Wage or even Incentive Income Supplement, but what it actually amounted to was a dole and it wasn’t all philanthropic. It kept consumer buying up and the economy needed that badly. But NIT wasn’t enough to keep the economy booming. Something was needed to take the place of war industries. Mass construction was the answer and it fit in with other problems, such as the falling apart of the cities, air and water pollution, slums and ghettos and so forth. So the government embarked on the biggest home construction and highway development—most of it underground—in history. Every person was guaranteed a residence, be it a house, an apartment, or a mobile home. Every citizen now has a right, once in his life, to obtain a home. The government ponies up the entire amount and then, over a period of thirty years, deducts it from the citizen’s credit balance automatically through the National Bank computers.”
“Of course, of course,” the older man said testily. “A corporation such as Vanderfeller and Moore is granted an appropriate sum to build a deme such as Shyler-deme, some five thousand apartments of varying size. The price will range anywhere from one to two hundred million. The average apartment sells for forty thousand, thus paying for the building, eventually. The complex remains in the hands of the corporation and the profit is made by selling commodities and services to the tenants who are what amounts to a captive pool of customers. They buy almost all of their food, their clothing and their other necessities through the ultra-markets in the underground areas of the deme. They rent their electro-steamers from our car pool, they pay for their entertainments such as theatres, sport spectacles, nightclubs, auto-bars, swimming pools. They have literally scores of ways provided for spending their income, be it government NIT, or earned salaries, or dividend income. But what has all this got to do with the drop off in tenancy, my boy?”
Barry said, “Sir, they simply don’t care enough about their apartments to give a damn, if the urge hits them to move. You seldom appreciate something you haven’t put anything of yourself into. Theoretically these people own their apartments and are paying for them, but in actuality they never see the money and most of them haven’t worked for it. It’s simply deducted from their usual monthly checks.
“All right. The population of the country now is roughly three hundred million. Most of them live in pseudo-cities such as Phoenecia and in demes, the units of the pseudo-cities. A deme such as we’re in now will hold twenty thousand people. They prefer demes because of all the facilities available. Those who don’t like this anthill type of life often get mobile homes—they used to call them trailers—and join one of the mobile towns. Comparatively few, these days, like individual homes but some do, and build off by themselves or in small communities.
“But the thing is, these people get restless and kind of go through fads of where to live. When Phoenecia was built the fad was for living in the mountains. There was a lot of talk about the benefits of the altitude, the scenery, the clear air and so forth. There was no trouble at all in filling the apartments. But in a couple of years, living on the sea became all the rage and, currently, living out in the desert areas such as Arizona and Utah. And Mexico and Central America are beginning to draw people.”
Vanderfeller said in indignation, “But to simply abandon their homes?”
And be lost as customers to Vanderfeller and Moore? Barry added silently.
Aloud, he said, “They don’t always abandon them. Last week we lost two hundred and three resident families, or singles, but gained eighty-three. Sometimes they rent their places. Sometimes they sell their equities, usually precious little, to each other. If somebody here in the mountains can locate another family, say on the seashore, who wants to swap apartments, they make a deal. Of course, both continue to have the same sum deducted from their credit balance. The government continues to collect whether they leave or not.”
“But from what you say,” the tycoon said aggressively, “some simply leave without finding a new tenant.”
“That’s right. They go off and possibly buy a new apartment somewhere else, this time in the wife’s name. If they move again, they can get still another in the name of one of the kids, if they have children over eighteen.”
“What can you do about it, Ten Eyck?” the older man snapped. “You’re the Demecrat of Shyler-deme. It’s up to you to prevent the building’s income from simply melting away.”
“I’ll do what I can, sir. Obviously, we’re working on it. One thing we might do—other Demecrats have—is lower the maintenance charge. That’d make remaining here more desirable.”
Vanderfeller glared at him. “Lower the maintenance rate!”
“Yes, sir. As you know, theoretically the tenants own their own apartments; but they have to pay us a monthly maintenance fee. It averages about a hundred dollars.”
The older man was indignant. “Our income is low enough, young man. We take in some four hundred thousand dollars a month toward expenses from this source. Every bit you cut is a drain on profits.”
“Yes, sir, but it’s one way of keeping tenants. Other demes are doing it, which is one of the reasons our people move to them. For a family on NIT to pay only fifty a month maintenance, instead of a hundred, means another fifty pseudo-dollars in their credit balance.”
“What else causes them to move?” Vanderfeller demanded.
“They like new buildings, with new gadgets, new improvements, or supposed improvements. I scanned some ads the other day. New demes have Tri-Di screens that occupy one whole wall of the apartment. The figures are projected life size. That’s a big pull. Another new development is an auto-bar that has a list of two hundred drinks available. You can do a lot of fancy guzzling with a device like that in your apartment. The ones we supply as standard equipment can be rigged only for ten different drinks of your choice. One thing we might do is upgrade our bar services.”
“Bring it up with Central Management,” Vanderfeller muttered. “But it sounds expensive.”
Barry shrugged. “Any renovations of that magnitude usually are. All five thousand of our apartments would be involved.”
Vanderfeller stood, by way of preliminaries to dismissal, and made an effort to regain his jovial air of good fellowship.
He said, “Well, Barry, my boy, it’s your problem. But we of the board of directors will be expecting upbeat reports from Phoenecia in the near future.”
Barry stood, too, and repressed a sigh. “We’ll do what we can, sir,” he said. From the side of his eyes he could see Abernathy, out of view of his superior, make a face of disbelief.
The bastard.
He took the penthouse elevator down to the hundredth floor and there switched to the general elevator banks of this tower. He dropped down to the fifth basement level and made his way in the direction of the kitchen offices of the Restaurant Division.