The Diamond Age

by Neal Stephenson

“Mr. Hackworth,” Finkle-McGraw said after the pleasantries had petered out, speaking in a new tone of voice, a the-meeting-will-come-to-order sort of voice, “please favour me with your opinion of hypocrisy.” “Excuse me. Hypocrisy, Your Grace?” “Yes. You know.” “It's a vice, I suppose.” “A little one or a big one? Think carefully—much hinges upon the answer.” “I suppose that depends upon the particular circumstances.” “That will never fail to be a safe answer, Mr. Hackworth,” the Equity Lord said reproachfully. Major Napier laughed, somewhat artificially, not knowing what to make of this line of inquiry. “Recent events in my life have renewed my appreciation for the virtues of doing things safely,” Hackworth said. Both of the others chuckled knowingly. “You know, when I was a young man, hypocrisy was deemed the worst of vices,” Finkle-McGraw said. “It was all because of moral relativism. You see, in that sort of a climate, you are not allowed to criticise others—after all, if there is no absolute right and wrong, then what grounds is there for criticism?”