Memoirs Of An Invisible Man Read Online Free

needs of the people instead of just helping the rich grow richer, we would be generating power directly from sunlight, instead of poisoning ourselves. The technology exists today.”
    Her eyes narrowed, and her exquisite mouth set firmly, conveying moral rectitude. I seemed to have annoyed her. Best to keep the discussion on a technical level.
    “Although,” I said, “with the technology that exists today, you would be paying somewhere between fifty cents and a dollar per kilowatt hour as opposed to six to twelve cents for conventionally generated power. Unless you’re counting amorphous silicon as ‘technology that exists today,’ in which case you would want to see cells with a conversion efficiency of at least seven percent in actual production—”
    “If these things aren’t ‘in actual production’ with a ‘conversion efficiency’ that suits you,” she interrupted sarcastically, “it’s small wonder, with a government that does nothing but sit by and let big corporations make these decisions by default.”
    “Yes, I absolutely see the force of what you say,” I responded agreeably, since, except for whatever immediate fun you may get out of it, it is always a waste of time to argue with anyone about politics — or about anything else, when you come right down to it. You rarely ever learn anything and you absolutely never convince the other person. “You’re probably right,” I went on. “Of course, the real question is whether they can get the cost of any of these things down to a competitive level. It’s really just a matter of supply and demand—”
    “The
real
question is whether we intend to leave ourselves at the mercy of the marketplace or whether we will take our fate in our own hands like rational, moral beings.”
    I was concerned that she might be getting not only deplorably rhetorical but genuinely angry. The mood, like the weather, seemed uncertain. “By the way,” I said, “I meant to ask you about something in the
Journal
today. Evidently, a band of
Times
reporters has been captured with a Cuban adviser. Apparently, the
Times
has these training camps in Ethiopia, and I thought you might be able to tell me—”
    “Fuck you.” She said this in a matter-of-fact tone and with a pleasant smile. I have noticed—although it is important not to let them get too wound up in it—that people often actually feel better when they can rant on about politics a bit. Perhaps this is the real value of politics. “Actually,” she went on, “I
do
want to know about the cost of alternate energy sources. That would be really useful to me. It really is amazing, the numbers you have.” She paused momentarily as another thought struck her. “No. Show me the thing about supply and demand curves again. That’s what I want.”
    I was delighted at the opportunity to explain anything whatever to Anne. And then it is always good to feel that one is serving humanity and one’s own selfish interests at the same time: perhaps I would be responsible for giving someone at the
Times
a rudimentary notion of the concepts of supply and demand. I took a pad of unlined paper from my briefcase and moved over to the seat beside her. Resting the pad first on my thigh and then on hers, I drew the familiar coordinates.
    “Now, this axis represents the price of some good, and this represents the quantity of the good produced. Now for each—”
    “Is what you’re drawing here for all goods or for some particular good?”
    “Well, it’s an example… that is, it’s some particular good. For any particular good, at any particular time, there would be a particular supply curve and a particular demand curve — if that’s what you’re asking.”
    “What sort of good? What exactly
is
a good, anyway? It would be better if you could be concrete.”
    “It could be any good. Or any service. It could be anything at all, anything that at least one person wants. And that someone can provide, I suppose. Automobiles,