On: UK inflation climbs to 3.3%, driven by largest increase in fuel prices in over t

September 18th

The news arrives as a prescription. The number is 3.3%. They will call this a fever, a temporary ailment. They will adjust the dosage of interest rates. The patient is the man who must now choose between the fuel to reach his work and the food for his child. The doctors are in conference, discussing the patient’s temperature. They do not smell the air in the room where he makes the choice.

The price of oil falls, they say. It falls to near one hundred dollars. A ceasefire is extended. A strait is closed. These are the mechanics of the sealed room. We are told the pressure gauge has moved a fraction. We are not told the walls have grown thicker. The spectator in the marketplace watches the numbers move on the screen with the same expression as the spectator at the execution. It is all data. It is all happening elsewhere.

They speak of the “largest increase in three years” as if it were a natural event, a flood or a drought. It is not natural. It is arithmetic applied to necessity. When a man’s necessity becomes another’s percentage point, the feast has begun. I do not know who is carving, but I know what is being consumed.

The diary of this age would read: The air grew thinner today. The doctors noted the patient’s increased respiration. They prescribed a tighter belt. The patient nodded. The custom continues.