What I'm not saying is that all government spending is bad. It's

Host: The town hall was almost empty, long after the meeting had ended. The echo of arguments and applause still hung in the air, like dust in the fading fluorescent light. Rows of folding chairs stood half-askew, a few leaflets scattered across the floor — charts, slogans, half-truths printed in bold fonts.

At the front of the room, the podium was still warm from use. Behind it, the banner read “ECONOMIC FUTURES: COMMUNITY DEBATE.”

Jack stood by the window, sleeves rolled up, looking out at the parking lot, where red taillights disappeared into the dark. Jeeny was packing papers into her bag, her movements slow, deliberate — the rhythm of someone not just tired, but thoughtful.

The air between them buzzed with the residue of ideology and exhaustion.

Jeeny: “Arthur Laffer once said, ‘What I’m not saying is that all government spending is bad. It’s not — far, far from it, but there is no free lunch, as a former colleague of mine used to say. There is no public tooth fairy. Father Christmas does not work on the Treasury staff this year. You can never bail someone out of trouble without putting someone else into trouble.’”

Host: Jack chuckled, half amused, half bitter.

Jack: “Leave it to an economist to turn Santa Claus into a budget warning.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly “It’s a clever way of saying something people don’t like to hear — that everything has a cost.”

Jack: “Yeah, but that’s the part everyone pretends not to understand. We love free things, as long as someone else pays for them.”

Jeeny: “Human nature. We want compassion without consequence.”

Host: The light flickered, humming faintly. The night outside was cold and clear, the kind of air that made the world feel sharper — cleaner — even when the truth wasn’t.

Jack: “You know, I’ve always respected Laffer’s bluntness. People think of economics as this sterile science, but it’s really moral arithmetic. It forces you to ask who pays the bill for kindness.”

Jeeny: “Or who benefits from cruelty.”

Jack: nodding “Exactly.”

Host: She leaned against the table, crossing her arms, her expression softening.

Jeeny: “He’s not saying don’t help people. He’s saying don’t forget that help costs someone something. If we pretend otherwise, we destroy the very thing we’re trying to save.”

Jack: “You sound like you agree with him.”

Jeeny: “I do — but only halfway. Numbers can tell you what we can afford. They can’t tell you what we can’t ignore.”

Jack: smirking “So compassion with a calculator.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. The trick is to keep both hands steady — one on the heart, one on the ledger.”

Host: The last of the lights flicked off at the back of the hall. Only the warm glow near the stage remained, making the place feel intimate, like an old confessional where ideals came to be weighed.

Jack: “It’s funny, though. People act like debt and deficit are modern inventions. But the idea’s as old as civilization — the tribe helps the weak, and the tribe shares the weight.”

Jeeny: “Yes, but when the tribe forgets that the pot isn’t bottomless, they all starve.”

Jack: “So no free lunch.”

Jeeny: “No public tooth fairy. No magic bailout.”

Jack: “I can’t decide if that makes me cynical or realistic.”

Jeeny: “It makes you awake.”

Host: A long silence followed — not awkward, but reflective. The kind that falls when words run out and only understanding remains.

Jeeny: “You know, I think what Laffer was really warning against wasn’t generosity — it was delusion. The belief that we can solve every problem by printing comfort.”

Jack: “Yeah. Eventually, you run out of other people’s wallets.”

Jeeny: “Or worse — their trust.”

Host: Jack looked up toward the banner one more time. The word “Future” stared back at him, its optimism now shadowed by pragmatism.

Jack: “So what do you do, Jeeny? When compassion and reality start fighting each other?”

Jeeny: “You mediate. You don’t pick sides; you find balance. The best societies, like the best people, live between mercy and math.”

Jack: “You make it sound easy.”

Jeeny: “It’s not. That’s why so few manage it.”

Host: Jack picked up one of the discarded leaflets from the floor — a graph showing debt rising like a heartbeat gone wrong. He turned it over and read a quote scribbled in the margin, probably by some volunteer: ‘We can’t keep living on borrowed time.’

He smiled grimly.

Jack: “You know, I don’t think Laffer hated government spending. He just hated dishonesty — the kind that calls debt a miracle instead of a mortgage.”

Jeeny: “That’s the tragedy of politics. Everyone wants to give; no one wants to pay.”

Jack: “And when the bill comes due, everyone blames the waiter.”

Jeeny: laughing softly “Exactly.”

Host: The two began gathering the last of the papers. The echo of their footsteps filled the hall, blending with the faint hum of the heater and the whisper of wind against the windows.

Jack: “You ever wonder if we’ll learn? Or if every generation’s doomed to spend more than it can feel?”

Jeeny: “We’ll learn — eventually. But only through consequence. Pain’s the only tax that always gets collected.”

Host: They reached the door. The night air swept in, crisp and bracing. The streetlights flickered, and somewhere down the block, a neon sign blinked “OPEN 24 HOURS.”

Jack: “You think he was right, then? Laffer?”

Jeeny: “Yes. But he missed one thing.”

Jack: “What’s that?”

Jeeny: “That sometimes the best kind of spending isn’t money — it’s courage. And courage, like freedom, never comes cheap.”

Host: Jack stood still, letting her words settle in the chill air. Then he nodded, softly, as if conceding to both logic and truth.

Jack: “So — no free lunch.”

Jeeny: “But maybe a shared meal, if we’re wise enough to split the bill.”

Host: They walked away, their figures framed in the glow of the streetlights — two silhouettes disappearing into the practical poetry of the night.

And as the camera lingered on the empty hall — the chairs, the banner, the leftover notes — Arthur Laffer’s words seemed to echo across the silence, both warning and reminder:

That generosity without honesty becomes debt,
and debt without conscience becomes decay.

That there is no magic in money — only math.
And that in every act of saving,
someone pays,
so that someone else
might rise.