Paris in the Twentieth Century (8 page)

It
is apparent that in this phase of business, the consumption of paper had
increased to unheard-of proportions; France, which a century before had produced
some sixty million kilograms of paper, now utilized more than three hundred
million kilograms;

moreover
there was no longer any need to fear the exhaustion of rag-based stocks, which
had been advantageously replaced by alfa, aloes, Jerusalem artichoke, lupine,
and twenty other cheaply cultivated plants; in twelve hours, the Watt and
Burgess
[15]
processes could turn a piece of wood into a splendid grade of paper; forests
no longer served for firewood, but for printing.

The
Casmodage Bank had been one of the first to adopt this wood-based paper; when
used for contracts, letters, and deeds, it was prepared with Lemfelder's gallic
acid, which rendered it impregnable to the chemical agents of forgers; since
the number of thieves had increased with the volume of commerce, it was essential
to take protective measures.

Such
was this establishment, in which enormous deals were transacted. Young Dufrénoy
was to play the most modest of roles in it, as the first servant of his calculating
machine, and would enter upon his functions that very day. Such mechanical
labor was very difficult for him, for he did not possess the sacred fire, and
the machine functioned quite poorly under his fingers; try as he would, a month
after his installation, he made more errors than on his first day, and yet he
struggled with the infernal keyboard until he felt he had reached the brink of
madness.

He
was kept under severe discipline, moreover, in order to break any impulses of
independence or artistic instincts; he had no Sunday free, and no evening to
spend with his uncle, and his only consolation was to write him, in secret.
Soon discouragement and disgust got the better of him, and he grew incapable of
continuing the tasks he had been assigned. At the end of November, the
following conversation regarding him occurred between Monsieur Casmodage,
Boutardin fils, and the Cashier:

"The
boy is monumentally inept, " the banker observed.

"The
claims of truth oblige me to agree, " replied the Cashier.

"He
is what used to be called an artist, " Athanase broke in, "and what
we would call a ninny. "

"In
his hands, the machine is becoming a dangerous instrument, " returned the
banker. "He brings us sums instead of subtractions, and he's never been
able to give us a calculation of interest at only fifteen percent!"

"A
pathetic case, " observed the cousin.

"But
how can we use him?" inquired the Cashier.

"Can
he read?" asked Monsieur Casmodage.

"Presumably,
" Athanase replied.

"We
might use him for the Ledger; he could dictate to Quinsonnas, who's been asking
for an assistant. "

"A
fine idea, " observed the cousin. "He's not good for much else
besides dictating—his handwriting is dreadful. "

"And
nowadays everyone writes such a fine hand, " commented the Cashier.

"If
he doesn't work out at this new job, " declared Monsieur Casmodage,
"he won't be good for anything but sweeping the offices!"

"And
even that...," observed the cousin.

"Bring
him in, " said the banker.

Michel
appeared before the redoubtable triumvirate. "Monsieur Dufrénoy, "
said the Director, his lips spread in the most scornful of smiles, "your
notorious incapacity compels us to withdraw you from the operation of Machine
Number Four; the results you have been producing are a constant cause of errors
in our statements; this cannot continue. "

"I
regret the fact, Monsieur—" Michel replied coldly.

"Your
regrets are of no use whatever, " the banker replied severely;
"henceforth you will be assigned to the Ledger. I am told that, you can
read. You will dictate. "

Michel
said nothing. The change meant nothing to him; the Ledger and the Machine were
interchangeable as far as he was concerned. He then withdrew, after asking
when his position would change.

"Tomorrow,
" answered Athanase. "Monsieur Quinsonnas will be informed. "

The
young man left the offices, thinking not of his new employment but of this
Quinsonnas, whose very name alarmed him! What could such a man be? Some
individual who had grown old copying articles for the Ledger, balancing
accounts current for sixty years, subject to the fever of outstanding balances
and the frenzy of double entry! Michel marveled that the bookkeeper had not yet
been replaced by a machine.

Yet
he felt an authentic joy at abandoning his calculating machine; he was proud
of having operated it so poorly; its pseudopiano aspect had repulsed him. Back
in his room, he soon found night coming on amid his reflections; he went to bed
but could not sleep; a sort of nightmare overwhelmed his brain. The Ledger
flashed before him, assuming fantastic dimensions; sometimes he felt he was
being pressed between the white pages like some dried plant in an herbal, or
else caught in the binding, which squeezed him in its brazen clamps. He got up
in great agitation, seized by an invincible desire to examine this formidable
device.

"It's
all nonsense, " he told himself, "but at least I'll get to the bottom
of it. " He leaped out of bed, opened the door of his room, and groping,
stumbling, arms extended, eyes blinking, ventured downstairs into the offices.

The
huge halls were dark and silent, where only a few hours ago the din of
finance—the clink of coins, the rustle of banknotes, the squeak of pens on
paper—had filled them with that sound so peculiar to banking houses. Michel
groped his way ahead, losing himself in the center of this labyrinth; he was
not too certain where the Ledger was situated but felt sure to find it; first
he would have to cross the hall of the machines—he recognized them in the
darkness. "They're sleeping, " he mused, "not calculating now.
" And he continued his reconnaissance, passing through the hall of the
giant safes, bumping into one at every step. Suddenly he felt the ground give
way under his feet, a dreadful noise filled his ears; all the doors slammed
shut; the bolts and locks slid into place, and deafening whistles were set off
up in the cornices; a sudden illumination filled the offices with garish
light, while Michel seemed to be sliding into some bottomless abyss.

Dazed
and terrified, the moment the ground seemed to be solid under his feet, he
tried to run away. Impossible! He was a prisoner now, caught in an iron cage.

At
that very moment, several men in various stages of undress rushed toward him.

"A
thief!" exclaimed one.

"We've
got him!" said another.

"Go
call the police!"

Michel
instantly recognized among these witnesses of his disaster Monsieur Casmodage
and Cousin Athanase.

"You!"
exclaimed the former.

"Him!"
exclaimed the latter.

"You
were trying to crack my safe!"

"That's
the last straw!"

"He's
a sleepwalker, " someone said.

For
the honor of young Dufrénoy, this notion rallied the majority of these men in
their nightshirts. The prisoner was uncaged, innocent victim of these ultramodern
safes, which protected themselves automatically. Stretching out his arms in
the dark, Michel had brushed against the Bond Safe, an apparatus of virginal
sensitivity; an alarm had immediately sounded and the floor opened by means of
a sliding panel, while the electric lights were automatically turned on at the
sound of the locking doors. The employees, wakened by powerful buzzers, rushed
toward the cage which had been lowered into the cellar.

"That
will teach you, " the banker scolded the young man, "to wander around
where you have no business being!"

The
next day, Michel made his way to the bookkeeping offices amid ironic whispers;
his adventure of the night before had run from mouth to mouth, and this morning
not one clerk troubled to suppress his laughter.

Michel
arrived in a vast hall under a ground-glass dome; in the center, on a single
pedestal, a marvel of mechanical contrivance, towered the Ledger of the
Casmodage Bank. It deserved its capital letter, for it was some six meters
high; an intricate mechanism allowed it to be aimed like a telescope at every
point on the horizon; a system of delicate catwalks, ingeniously combined,
could be raised or lowered according to the writer's needs.

On
white pages some 3 meters wide, the bank's daily operations were spelled out in
letters 8 centimeters high.
Petty Cash, General Cash, Loans,
silhouetted in gold ink, delighted the attention of those who had a taste for
such things. Other many-colored inks enlivened the amounts carried forward and
the pagination; as for the figures, splendidly superimposed in the addition
columns, francs were expressed in scarlet, and centimes, carried to the third
decimal, glowed a dark green.

Michel
was astounded at the sight of this monument. He asked for Monsieur Quinsonnas
and was shown a young man perched on the highest catwalk; mounting a spiral
staircase, he reached the Ledger's summit in a very few moments. Here he found
Monsieur Quinsonnas was illuminating a capital
F
one meter high
with incomparable dexterity.

"Monsieur
Quinsonnas?"

"Be
so good as to come closer," replied the bookkeeper. "To whom have I
the honor of speaking?"

"To...
to Monsieur Dufrénoy. "

"Would
you be the hero of last night's adventure which—"

"I
am, " Michel answered bravely.

"It
does you credit, " Quinsonnas continued. "You are an honest man—a
thief would never have let himself be caught. Such is my opinion. "

Michel
stared hard at his interlocutor—was he being teased? The bookkeeper's
tremendously serious countenance permitted no such supposition. "I await
your orders, " Michel said.

"And
I yours. "

"What
is it that I am to do?"

"Just
this: dictate to me, in a slow, clear voice, the various quotations from the
papers which I am to transfer into the Ledger. Mind what you are about! Speak
emphatically, and breathe deeply. There must be no errors—one erasure and I am
dismissed. "

There
were no further preliminaries, and the work began.

Quinsonnas
was a young man of thirty who by dint of his serious expression might pass for
forty. Yet attentive scrutiny might ultimately discern, beneath that ominous
gravity, a good deal of secret joviality and a dash of diabolic wit. Michel,
after three days, began to notice something of the kind.