Quite unaccountably Alice found herself walking along, without the least idea where she was going or why. Coming towards her, however, was a little man in black with neat pinstripe trousers, who seemed to be in a great hurry and looked very important.
"Please sir," said Alice timidly addressing him, “where am I?" His eyebrows shot up under his hat in surprise. ‘‘This," said he in a pompous voice that made Alice want to giggle, "is Topsyturveydom, and there," (pointing down the road) “is Boom Town. I’m just going there so if you’ll come along with me I'll explain things to you since you seem to be a stranger."
“You’ll see," he went on as they started off together, “that we have a most perfect system in this Topsyturveydom of ours. Nothing like it for keeping folk on their toes. There’s a niche for everyone with brains and initiative, and with plenty of hard work a man can get to the top."
By this time they were in the town, and Alice noticed that like the little man in black, everyone seemed to be in a great hurry. Alice and the little man, whom we will call Mr. Pinstripe, watched the little folk for some time.
They came rushing out of their houses, and incredible numbers of them crammed into the street cars and trains which carried them to factories and mills, etc., where they were emptied out, to enter and start working; and Alice marvelled at the wonderful things they made. Large shining cars that purred smoothly along on thick rubber tyres, gowns that lent added grace and enchantment to the female form, and all manner of things to delight the hearts of humans. Then they all rushed out for a brief period, and snatched a meal at crowded eating places, where they were served with “sausage and mashed" and leathery apple pudding wearing thin custard like an inadequate disguise. Then, another general rush back to work, until whistles and hooters shrilling out seemed to be the signal for another rush for the street cars and trains to carry them back home again. The older folk then sat with feet resting up to recuperate from the day’s work, while the younger section went out for a few hours to satisfy the craving for fun and play, before going to bed
“Well, what do you thing of it all, child?" asked Mr. Pinstripe, with obvious pride in his voice.
“I’ve never seen so many beautiful things all at once in my life," replied Alice, “but it all seems rather stupid somehow, because they never seem to stop working long enough to enjoy all the things they’ve made."
“Stop working! Good gracious, they can’t do that —besides they don’t even want to. In any case they don’t make these things for themselves."
“Then why do they make them?" asked Alice in bewilderment.
“To earn enough to keep them alive to work another day.” And Mr. Pinstripe chuckled heartily, as if he had made a very fine joke indeed.
Then suddenly, the way things do happen in dreams, (for of course Alice was dreaming) she found herself in a place as different from Boom Town as chalk is from cheese.
No longer did she feel dizzy from the hustle and bustle: these people were hollow-cheeked and listless.
While the men lounged on street corners, the women queued up for food tickets. The little sad-eyed children, who should have been so merry, touched Alice to the heart
“This of course is Slump Town." Alice turned to find Mr. Pinstripe still at her elbow.
“Once you wouldn’t have seen any difference at all between this and Boom Town," he said, "but at the moment they’re suffering from 'Over Production.’ You see all those warehouses over there? Full up with all sorts of things; wheat clothing—oh almost anything you can think of."
"Why then, the solution is simple!" exclaimed Alice, clapping her hands excitedly. All they have to do is to use those things and have a jolly good time until stocks have been sufficiently reduced, and then they can start work again. Oh think! What a difference you would see in those children if they had a good meal and some nice clothes to wear, and then let them loose among all those toys in that old warehouse!"
Mr. Pinstripe smiled pityingly at Alice’s simplicity. “Quite impracticable: why the whole business world would collapse! But come along, I want you to meet some of the people at the top of the scale, who by reason of hard work and not forgetting hard cash (ha! ha!) can now relax and enjoy the fruits of the others’ labours.”
Well they at least, thought Alice, should be happy.
"Ah here we are, the most exclusive club in Boss-town," said Mr. Pinstripe guiding Alice over thick pile carpets to a room filled with talk and cigar smoke.
"But my dear chap!" exclaimed one, puffing out a huge cloud of smoke, "what is the world coming to? Bad enough with all the labour troubles in Boom Town with their damned insolent demands for less work and more money, and now Income Tax going higher than it’s ever been before!"
"All the big nobs get here," said Mr. Pinstripe, "but perhaps you’d like to meet the Duchess." And Alice quitted the smoky atmosphere with relief.
The Duchess was large and round and arrayed in costly fabrics.
"Oh dear!’’ sighed the Duchess.
"She’s always like that, stupid old thing," whispered Pinstripe (rather callously thought Alice) for the poor old thing really did seem awfully distressed about something.
"What is the matter?" asked Alice anxiously.
"Well you see it’s my waistline, I never know where it's going to be next. One minute Fashion declares it to be an inch above my hipbone, and just as I’m getting used to that—whoosh ! Fashion says it’s up round my neck somewhere. It’s all so very confusing."
"Well," said Alice turning round indignantly on Mr. Pinstripe, "I don’t see why you should be so puffed up with pride about your old system, nobody seems to be enjoying it very much!" And at that began to feel just a little scared, because, Alice after all was a well brought up child and not used to being rude to pompous old gentlemen, especially when they go red in the face and begin to shake you by the shoulders.
"Bless me if the child hasn’t fallen asleep. Come on Alice, wake up!"
Alice opened her eyes and found to her immense relief that it was after all only a bad dream.
E.S.
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