All of what Eduardo has to say, in that hurt puppy tone of voice, starts sounding a little like white noise in the background. Which, to be fair, isn't entirely Eduardo's fault, although it certainly can't be said that he's providing scintillating conversation right now. The real reason why Mark can't focus on anything at the moment, from his best friend's approach to the fruit fly buzzing around the both of them in a hopeful manner, is because he's stuck on one key thing. Lack of economy. It's a phrase so terrifying that he's only ever come across it in dystopian fantasy novels and world history books, and the latter he's long since abandoned, ever since his high school growth spurt him a fair bit above Napoleon. (Life shouldn't be about physical stature, and yet first impressions, skin-deep or otherwise, always matter. This is yet another reason why Wardo makes a better economist than Mark. Mark's face isn't catered toward negotiation.)
(Also, Wardo is taller. In case that wasn't obvious.)
But it isn't any level of avarice or care for cash that has Mark's jaw dropping — metaphorically, anyway; on a practical level, it's more of a lock. It's the fact that the proper mark of any civilization is a system by which efforts are rewarded and everyone is paid their due. It's the only type of incentive that works not only in calling people to action, but also gives property its value.
"No economy," he repeats, slowly, disbelieving. "Everything is free. Public property. The private sector does not exist. People do whatever they want. There is no structure, people have grown complacent, progress has come to a screeching halt or— given the fact that I very much doubt that a fully effective schooling system can be set up without funds— perhaps has even begun to reverse itself. Assuming that cannibalizing a chicken is not enough to earn one a trip downstairs, this can't be Hell."
After a pause, he furrows his brow in confusion, looking up to meet the other man's eyes. "Wardo, this is some fucked up shit."
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Date: 2011-05-15 08:02 am (UTC)(Also, Wardo is taller. In case that wasn't obvious.)
But it isn't any level of avarice or care for cash that has Mark's jaw dropping — metaphorically, anyway; on a practical level, it's more of a lock. It's the fact that the proper mark of any civilization is a system by which efforts are rewarded and everyone is paid their due. It's the only type of incentive that works not only in calling people to action, but also gives property its value.
"No economy," he repeats, slowly, disbelieving. "Everything is free. Public property. The private sector does not exist. People do whatever they want. There is no structure, people have grown complacent, progress has come to a screeching halt or— given the fact that I very much doubt that a fully effective schooling system can be set up without funds— perhaps has even begun to reverse itself. Assuming that cannibalizing a chicken is not enough to earn one a trip downstairs, this can't be Hell."
After a pause, he furrows his brow in confusion, looking up to meet the other man's eyes. "Wardo, this is some fucked up shit."