YOU TOO CAN BE A MILLIONAIRE By Noel Loomis - https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/32907/pg32907-images.html

Conley was from the Machine—Central Audit Bureau—and the Machine knew by now that Mark was three thousand points in the red. Three thousand points—when you were supposed to be always within one day's point of a balance. You were allowed twelve hundred points a day, so Mark was now two and a half days in debit.

 I was born in 1940, you know."

"Nineteen-forty," Mark repeated, wonderingly. "Gee, that was back in the days when everybody worked. I wish I could work."

"Well, it's a changed world," she observed. "In those days, you had to work."

"This is 2021," he observed. "You're eighty-one years old. You must know all about things."

He wondered what she would do with all those points. What did anybody do with them? Everybody had about the same living quarters. Food was furnished by automatic vendors at the Hydroponic Farms. Clothes were provided, ready-made; all you had to do was put your credit card in a machine, punch the buttons for your measurements, and a suit would drop down the chute.

She nodded briskly. "I saw it from one of the last planes. Central covers miles and miles in both directions. They said then it was the biggest machine on earth—and do you know, Mark"—she paused dramatically—"I think the Machine is the government! Roll up your chair, Mark."

Mark did. "But doesn't there have to be somebody to take care of the Machine?" he asked, holding her chair.

"Not that I know of. They said it was perfect—that barring an earthquake it would run for a thousand years without a human hand."