Consequences by Carla Jablonski Page B

back in the old days—but they disturbed him anyway.
    As they walked, Slaggingham slung an arm across Daniel’s shoulders. “There are two kinds of people in the world, Daniel,” he said, “the happy ones, curse them, and us. And why is that, I ask you?”
    That was a daft question, the answer being so obvious. Daniel ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “They eat regular, and we don’t. That’s one thing. They has places that belongs to them. And we don’t. They ain’t got to lurk or drudge like us. And they have things . Lots of nice things.”
    â€œJolly good!” Slaggingham acted as though Daniel had aced an exam at school. “That brain of yours is a ticker, my boy. Give this a tick then. Slaggingham’s law informs us that there’s a finite amount of happiness floating around in the world. Finite meaning limited, as you know.”
    â€œYeah, I know that,” Daniel muttered. “I ain’t stupid.”
    â€œOh, I know, lad. You are indeed the brightestsweep I have ever known. Now, let’s say you wanted to free up some happiness for you and your mates to grab. How would you do it?”
    Daniel was stumped. He bit his lip. “I—I don’t know,” he admitted. It seemed impossible. After all, if folks could do such a thing, wouldn’t they all be doing it by now?
    â€œYou’d manufacture misery, that’s what you’d do!” Slaggingham crowed. “Then you’d sell it to happy people. Which would make them unhappy, of course, as sure as Christmas comes once a year.” Slaggingham stopped walking and began gesturing dramatically, illustrating his vision. “When the happiness came trickling out of their punctured hearts, you and your mates would catch every last drop of it with Slaggingham’s Anti-Tantalic Extractor Apparatus. Patent pending.”
    Daniel’s head swum. It made no sense, did it? But, coo, wouldn’t it be the staggers if it could be done? Be a way to bring those swells down a peg. And he’d be there to swoop in to soak up all that happiness.
    â€œHow do you manufacture misery?” Daniel asked. “And why would anyone buy it?”
    A grin creaked its way across Slaggingham’s craggy face. “That’s the easiest part of all. Consumerism. It’s the capitalist system. Advertising.It’s been going on for ages. Now we can tap into the existing system and use it to our own purposes.”
    As appealing as this amazing plan sounded, Daniel didn’t think it was something he really wanted to be a part of. There was something wrong in the logic, even if he couldn’t put his finger on it or find the words to explain it to the old reverend.
    Besides, Slaggingham still hadn’t coughed up that tea. Had his offer for refreshment been a sham? How can you trust a man who not only should have died ages and ages ago but who tantalizes you with a promise of a spot of tea, only to produce nothing? Instead, he walks you about the endless tunnels, through another archway, and to yet another gigantic machine.
    â€œAbout that tea—” Daniel began, but Slaggingham cut him off.
    â€œWhat’s this?” Slaggingham demanded. “Why aren’t you all at your stations?”
    Daniel noticed that here, instead of working busily, the workers were all standing around in a large circle, away from the machine. Tools lay scattered on the floor, as if they had simply dropped them.
    â€œWhat is going on here?” Slaggingham bellowed.
    As the workers registered Slaggingham’s voice, the circle slowly opened up.
    Slaggingham grabbed Daniel’s shoulder with a viselike grip. “Impossible!” he cried.
    â€œOw!” Daniel yelped.
    Slaggingham didn’t notice Daniel trying to shake out of his clutches. He was frozen, staring at something straight ahead. Daniel peered through the group and gasped. A unicorn stood gazing up at the