"Well, there were all kinds of lawsuits. Two men would be in an accident. Both hurt. Their insurance companies would sue each other. Suppose A knocked over a ladder and B fell down on top of him. B's fall broke A's arm and it broke his own leg. A could sue B for breaking his arm. B could sue A for making him fall. Well, suppose A was insured by company X, and B was insured by company Y. A and B filed claims against each other's companies, and everybody went to court."
"You mean they didn't agree on damages?" Mark asked incredulously.
"Exactly." Penelope cut off the top of a bottle of enzymes. "It was pretty dumb. But pretty soon the companies got wise. They formed working agreements.
"When two companies carried insurance on two persons involved in an accident, the companies just presented their claims to each other, and the one with the biggest claim against him paid the difference, while each company paid off the claim of the one it represented. You can see what eventually happened."
She punched a button and a dinette table popped out of the wall.
"Companies insured people for more and more types of damage, even against being insulted or against a claim for damages for being insulted. The big companies eliminated the small ones, and it was just a matter of bookkeeping among those that were left. Eventually the government took it over."
"But look," said Mark, "I don't see—"
"Don't rush me." Penelope put a can into the container-dissolver and punched the button that set out the plates and silverware on the tiny table. "You see, pretty soon everybody was insured for everything possible. People were collecting right and left, mostly small amounts but lots of them. But it took quite a bit of time to file claims and so on. And also, a man spent all he made buying insurance to protect himself. It was a wicked circle. Nobody could quit buying insurance and nobody dared quit filing claims. That's when the government took over. They simplified things. Once a day you turn your slips into Central and the Machine audits your account. That's all there is to it."
"But there's nothing else to do," Mark objected. "No entertainment, no work."
"Why should there be entertainment? Entertainment means work for somebody. No, Central—which is the government, of course—has eliminated work for everybody and at the same time has provided something to keep everybody busy. What work must be done is done by automatic, self-lubricating, self-repairing, self-renewing machinery." She sighed. "It's a brave new world. Everything is neatly worked out. Everybody spends all their time gathering points to offset the points they lose gathering points—and nobody seems to mind except a few rebels like you and me. I saw that rebellious look in your eyes when you signed my slip. That's why I invited you to come along with me. But, as I said, Central keeps everybody busy all day and half the night trying to balance themselves. There's no labor problem, no unemployment, no relief, no worry about anything." She paused, to dip the vitamins out of the dissolver. "The only catch is—it's so damned monotonous."