One of my first, non-employee, immigrants was a cheerful man named Albert. I forget his last name, we weren’t ever particularly close, but he and his wife, Mary, operated a place they called 'Main Line Mocha.' It was a coffee shop, ran on our new arcology business model. A few auto-chefs that did most of the brew and cleanup work, but Mary 'ran' the place by experimenting around with menu selections and providing a human eye to keep things moving smoothly. Albert spent all his time expanding and modifying the train tracks and scenery that gradually filled their space.

I liked it for a few reasons. People didn’t talk much beyond polite greetings, the chairs were comfortable and usually placed in a nook where you could read quietly. They didn't play music, instead, the shop was filled with the quiet rattle of the model trains endlessly circling. The smell of coffee and spices was accented by the aroma of fresh paint and glue, which brought all sorts of childhood memories to mind.

It should also go without saying that Albert's obsessive scenery building did a lot to alleviate the whiteness that filled your vision throughout the arcology. When every structural support was made of a slightly pearlescent white material that didn't really hold paint, the view gets monotonous quickly. We'd tried different colored lighting in places, but somehow that usually just made things worse. Full-spectrum white with a bit of UV kept people happiest, but damn the view gets boring quickly. A lot of the people here tended to spend their time in the plazas and promenades with the most color. That usually meant garden spaces, but I usually liked the artsy and crafty spaces better.

All that being said, I just liked the temperature most. Each promenade maintained a slightly different climate, lighting scheme, and general atmosphere, which in turn tended to attract different types of activities. Main Line Mocha was in the top promenade on the outermost SSW arc. In the large open central area, a handful of large ice rinks were set up. Pride of place was a great irregular field of ice surrounded by winter greenery. That one was open to the public and was constantly filled with children, couples, and other people enjoying themselves. Ringed around were several other large rinks that could be reserved for lessons, hockey teams, and figure skaters. Three levels of irregularly shaped shop spaces and stalls surrounded the ice. Most of the cubbies were filled with people who appreciated the cold or did something that benefited from the cold. There was a little garage that housed a few Zambonis. They could be automatic, but there was a waiting list of people who wanted to drive one.

Main Line Mocha hadn't gotten their space looking for the cold, but Albert and Mary didn’t mind it at all. Albert just wanted a space to play in, and to let people see his work. Mary started serving coffee for the sake of something to do, and before long they were serving a great deal of hot cocoa and other warm drinks to skaters. As far as I was concerned, it was as comfortable a place to sit as any, and watching the skaters was always nice.

Unusually, Albert bustled up to me as soon as I came in. He waited while I punched in an order for an espresso, then asked me what I thought about the new tax.

I was confused, hardly anyone here had an income anymore, so taxes weren't usually a concern. With a raised eyebrow, I asked him, “What tax?”

Ashley Rice giggled. She had traded in her sensible flats for some sort of shapeless boot that looked like it was lined with sheepskin. I could only see the top of the boots because her denim skirt crept up a bit when she sat down. Her grey cardigan was buttoned up too. I watched her for a second, waiting for her to answer me or Albert. Instead, her lips tightened a bit as she refused to make eye contact with either of us. I have no idea what could be so fascinating about a cup of brown liquid.

Albert jumped in instead, “The charity tax. I've been hearing about it on the news. Washington wants people to keep working, and so they're trying to ban charity to idle types. You get fined if you give stuff or money away, that's what they're saying.”

“Ah,” I understood now, I hadn't realized that my people had been paying that much attention. “We're not worried about that, at all.”

“But are you going to keep giving everything away here? I haven't done any work since moving here, and you're providing all this for us.” Albert gestured widely, then froze a bit awkwardly. He glanced at Ashley. He knew she was our CFO, I usually had our weekly sitdowns in his little space. He'd also seen me run away rather quickly when I'd been confronted with demonstrations of gratefulness before. “Um, won't that mean you have to pay the government for everything you give away?”

“Do I look worried?” I smiled. The stupid charity tax baffled me. I got that people are supposed to work. Idle people get into all sorts of trouble. It’s in the bible, I think. Right? Devil's hands, blah blah blah, that sounds like it’s from a scripture somewhere. The problem is that it's hard to force people to do anything. Nothing new about that, just ask the Puritans. Or the Southern Baptists. Preventing people from doing things you don't like can be hard enough but getting them to go out and do what you do want is damn near impossible. I mean, even in a world where you have to work just to stay alive there would still be people who looked for any chance at a free ride.

And lately, people absolutely do not have to work to survive. They didn't have to work even for luxuries. Most measures of productivity had just stopped meaning anything. If you don't include entertainment and the arts, the United State’s GDP could be maintained with four or five minutes of work a week per person. In other words, one person working full time could easily get done a job that used to require five hundred. On average, of course. Some areas were almost as labor-intensive as they used to be – medicine, education, and programming were all about the same as they'd always been. Others really required no human input at all – mining, production, travel, and even most service work was either automated or unnecessary.

Personally, I think things would work themselves out. I mean, PPM was figuring out how to deal. Soup or Counting or whatever Google was calling themselves this year didn’t seem to be having any problems adapting. Disney was managing was too, as was HP, and so were dozens of other companies. Even manufacturing companies could hang on if they were the least bit smart – Boeing and Volkswagon had almost grown enough to compete with us. Frankly, our only real problem, speaking as an executive, was keeping a hold of our designers. No one really wanted cash anymore – it was too hard to spend, or to know whether you were getting paid enough. Some things were basically free – rent, cars, durable goods in general, but the price of entertainment and similar was soaring. Food probably would be incredibly expensive if not for various welfare programs and distribution automation.

So, we paid in kind, and technically in production credits. Free rent, utilities, food, and similar for everyone who lived in my Arcology, as well as a stipend for production. We figured out roughly what our total capacity was, and divided half of that among the citizens. Every time you wanted to make clothing, or a new toy, or a car, or a bed, or whatever, that took time for the drones, harvesters, and drives; we based the stipend on that. Direct PPI employees – programmers and engineers, mostly, got the largest portion. Professionals and necessary workers in the Arcology got about half that. Everyone else got about a much smaller portion.

Of course, when pretty much no one managed to use all of the minimum production portion, let alone the larger allotments, the concept was a joke. Even after we hit a million citizens, combined with all our other production, we never maintained more than twenty-five percent of total capacity for more than a week or two.

But there were people worried about giving away just about anything a person could dream of without some sort of merit system. Which meant that all sorts of stupid ideas were in play – attempts to ensure that people worked and that hard-working types rose to the top. This charity tax thing was just the first idea to get support from enough congressmen to actually look like it might get implemented. Too bad their first attempt was pointless.

“Nah, remember that contract you signed, Albert?” I needed to settle him down. I didn't see Albert leading any bloody revolts, but there wasn't any reason for people to worry over nothing.

“The contract... you mean when we moved in? Yeah, I agreed to a bunch of rules, and what we'd get. That one?”

Mary bustled in with a cup for me, and a cup for her husband. She never minded joining into any conversation in her place. “Albert had to give up his guns, which frankly makes me happier.”

“I didn't give them up, Mary. They're in a locker below.” Albert sipped his own drink gratefully, “Besides, it's not like I'm worried about anyone breaking in anymore.”

Time to get back on the subject, I didn't really want to get into a guns rights conversation with the guy. Again. “Yeah, that contract. But it also means that the materials we give you aren't charity. They're payment for services rendered. Everyone who lives here is an employee. Even if all you provide is some flavor to the city, it's enough. So we won't be paying any taxes for this bill. And if they try to make us, we'll sue, right up to the Supreme Court. And if we lose, we pay them the value of what we give you. Which is effectively nothing, at least in terms of dollars. So we still win.”

“Yeah, we're not worried about the new tax. Frankly, I'd forgotten it was a thing.” I sipped my own drink. Mary had overridden my order and brought me a hot chocolate instead, with a shot of espresso. It was further warmed by a combination of chili pepper and nutmeg. She did that sometimes, but she usually knew better than me what I wanted.

The conversation drifted. Albert showing off a cliff face he had sculpted of plaster and was beginning to paint. Mary pushing samples of different seasonings on me. Ashley had gotten out a little tablet while we chatted and was reading while she sipped her drink. We all got distracted when a couple skated out onto a reserved rink below us and started going through some simple routines. The Main Line Mocha had a good spot to view all the rinks, but the couple was one of the closest. The couple came out with an older woman who shouted out critiques and instructions as they skated.

One of the unforeseen effects of our arcology program was that it attracted a certain class of athlete and performer. Learning to ice dance competitively used to be expensive. The equipment cost, and I guess people used to go through skates relatively quickly. Also, you needed to secure time on ice, which also cost. You needed a coach and a partner, and they usually liked money for living expenses too. And you needed the free time available to pour thousands of hours into practicing. Oh, and you would have to travel to ever actually compete.

So far as I can tell, any competitive form of athletics was expensive. Even the ones that didn't require any dedicated equipment or space still required huge amounts of time. Which had meant, historically, if a sport wasn't popular enough to sell tickets and advertisements, then the only people to really compete were independently wealthy and incredibly motivated. But here, the only thing of value was time, and so time could be invested where it was valued.

And thus the Arcology attracted figure skaters, gymnasts, wrestlers, skateboarders, tennis players, musicians, artists, and more and more. Sure, lots of them were terrible. Most of them were probably terrible, not that I'm a judge. But even people with terrible talent got pretty good when they didn't have to worry about feeding themselves or their families and can just throw themselves into an interest. And the people who were already pretty good got incredible.

Which meant that even though the couple below were rank amateurs, they were an absolute pleasure to watch while I avoided talking business with Ashley.