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Supply and Demand

Written by Rick Boatright

Tink tink tink... The little yellow screwdriver rang against the side of the Cora's mug as Father Nicholas Smithson sat silently in the rectory kitchen.

"Why so glum, Nick?"

Father Nicholas Smithson looked up from staring into his coffee mug to see his good friend walking in. "I was hearing confession, Gus."

"Well, it was your turn."

"I know, and I'm happy to provide the service. I still miss my parishioners in London, and this is a small way to be a part of the life of this community. But I'm afraid I may have to stop."

"Why?"

"Because it happened again today. Someone didn't want the sacrament; they had a job offer for Nicholas Smithson, expert on up-timers. "

"Again? I am so sorry Nick. It's so sad that people want to throw money at you. It's not like you were a Benedictine or something."

"They were demeaning the sacrament and the sanctuary of the church. Did not Christ himself overturn the money changers?"

"He did." Gus nodded, grinning.

"And when I do attempt to do research, I am pummeled with requests beyond what any man can do. It is not as though I am the only researcher in the library."

"Yes, Nick. But you are the only author of How Not to Think Like a Redneck. That may be the best selling book in Europe."

"I know. But it's silly. Brother Johann is as good a researcher, and the others just as good."

"Nick, they are good researchers, but you have found your place. You have a gift for putting the bits and pieces together into a whole that no one has yet quite matched. Then, there is your reputation. I see only one way to control this. You must rely on the invisible hand."

"Gus, I've already doubled my prices over what everyone else charges!"

"Then double them again. Eventually, you will drive the crowds away. Then, you can pick and choose the projects you want to work on."

"Double them again! I would be charging one hundred dollars an hour!"

"And if that's not enough, then you double them again. Eventually, the market will respond."

"Am I to be a prisoner of the Dark Science then?"

"Yes, Nick. A prisoner with an income which makes you able to do the things you want done. Oh that more of us would have such a burden."

Nick stared into his coffee cup: "Let's go get a beer."

Gus smiled. "Your treat."

****

"Excuse me, Father Smithson?"

Nick looked up. The library table was covered with 3x5 cards, stacked in complex patterns like a tarot design, some with colorful ink staining ...