"I am pleased and honored," Joe responded, "by this award, and I know that I have done my part to restore fiscal stability to the world as we know it. It little matters to me that my face will be pictured on the brightly colored new money, but since it is so, let me express my pleasure at this honor."
"Your signature, Mr. Fernwright," the Secretary reminded him, in the fashion of a wise father. "Your signature, not your face, will appear on the currency notes. Where did you get the idea that it would be your likeness as well?"
"Perhaps you don't understand me," Joe said. "Unless my face appears on the new currency I will withdraw my design, and the entire economic structure of the Earth will collapse, seeing as how you'll have to go on using the old inflationary money which has by now become virtually waste paper to be thrown away at the first opportunity."
The Secretary pondered. "You would withdraw your design?"
"You read me loud and clear," Joe, in his dream, in their dream, said. At this same moment roughly one billion other people on Earth were withdrawing their designs as he now was doing. But of course he had no thought of that; he only knew this: without him the system, the whole nature of their corporate state, would break apart. "And as to my signature, I will, as that great dead hero of the past Ché Guevara did, that noble person, that fine man who died for his friends, because of memory of him I will merely write ‘Joe' on the bills. But my face must be of several colors. Three at least."