by G. R. Carter
The whole room full of politicos lit up like a football stadium, with grins from ear to ear. The publicity for these projects couldn’t be bought with tens of millions in advertising.
Not surprisingly, Connor–Williams was the only one not smiling.
“Do we have to use that shovel-ready terminology?” she asked. “We’re talking about technology here. Fibers and gigabytes…not bridges and eight-lane highways.”
“You’re right, of course, Maleeka. Let me see if I can get that changed right away. Shall we say, ‘connectivity restoration projects?’’ Reed asked, not entirely sincere.
“I kind of like that, and it fits the three-letter rule for communicating with the ill–informed,” Connor–Williams agreed. “We’ll call it the CRP Initiative. Sounds better than the Reboot.” Reed had been joking, knowing how that acronym would be pronounced by the few dissenting voices. Oh well, no such thing as bad publicity.
“And you promise the money will be distributed from the states, not from the Feds, correct?” asked Mark Jacobs, senator from Florida. “Because that’s the only way we’re signing on.”
“Of course, Mark. That was the original deal, and I stand behind it. You know I think the states are much better at handling this money than the Federal bureaucracy. Locals will spend it on the projects they think will best return life to normal.
“Anyone have any other questions? No? It’s agreed, then,” Reed said in conclusion. “Go back to your members right now, get the vote done by 1 pm for the networks to start advertising the signing ceremony. Our goal is 400 million sets of eyeballs for this signing tonight. Con–Pro accomplishes the CRP Initiative. That’s epic headlines!”
Oval Office – White House
Federal DC – Free Zone
“My Fellow Americans…” the President of the United States began as every other President had for as long as anyone could remember. Luis Aguilar didn’t need a teleprompter, though one stood in front of him. He discovered as a young child that he possessed a photographic memory. That, along with an outgoing personality rare among geniuses allowed him to rocket through the ranks of education and then politics.
“…We stand witness to the greatest example of political cooperation our great nation has seen since the Civil Rights act of the 1960s, or even the New Deal before that. We’ve witnessed history when our elected leaders have come together and accomplished great things.
“In front of me right now is legislation, approved by both chambers of Congress and already approved by the Supreme Court, setting our country back on the right path. This bill insures protection from the Solar Storms and gives us a pathway that leads out of the economic challenges you face.
“With this bill, which I have dubbed the Connectivity Restoration Project, or CRP, your government now has the means to reestablish the connections between our great cities. Yes, it is a lot of money, but the Congressional Budget Office has determined that this bill will return over one hundred times the amount spent in positive GDP growth. Better still, it is estimated to create or maintain at least forty million new jobs.
“To avoid any delay, each state will be allocated money to their infrastructure accounts through the Department of the Interior by tomorrow morning. Each Governor will be allowed to submit plans to Secretary of the Interior Elias Marburg for immediate approval. The Secretary has tripled Department of the Interior staff to ensure we encounter no delays. This fresh way of looking at things will allow states to prioritize their projects while making sure that there is a strong hand overseeing the people’s hard-earned money.
“With help from our friends at the Con–Pro Coalition, our nation realizes significant savings from the Reboot. As you all know, it has been a goal of mine to bring our troops home from around the world. We need to streamline our military, and right-size it in this day and age of mutual world cooperation. Both Conservatives and Progressives agree with this central pillar of my administration. Effective immediately, I have instructed the Pentagon to begin handing over all overseas bases to our allies, and to begin disbanding at least 75% of all active duty units. National Guard Units will now form the basis of our national defense. While tasked with helping their local communities, I have federalized their commands and placed them under the authority of the Secretary of Interior to replace the manpower lost from regular army units. Even now, we have begun bringing back all our military hardware to be distributed to community police forces across the country.
“Additionally, all naval groups will report to our bases at Pearl Harbor and Norfolk to await assignment for drug interdiction, inspection of offshore drilling procedures, and conservation. This is vital work, meant to solidify my environmental initiatives.
“All in all, this bill in front of me tonight is an extraordinary net positive for our economy and the future of our children. It is unfortunate that it takes a challenge like the Solar Storms to bring unity to our government. But let us rejoice that once again the people of America are up to the trial this century brings us. Thanks to all, and be united, America.”
Thomas Reed walked from off-camera and handed a ceremonial pen to the President. As President Aguilar signed the document, the United States assumed another 500 trillion dollars in debt.
The Rusty Bucket Pub and Grub
Federal DC
Stuck in the worst offices in the Capitol building, the tiny Heartland coalition usually chose to meet at a more comfortable tavern a few blocks over from the main government campus, far away from the spies and surveillance always following dissidents like themselves. It was a risk considering the violent crime rate in DC. The opportunity for suspicious accidents trailed anyone straying outside of the Free Zone set up for the government employees and elected officials. The cameras and constant police patrols made it possible for the FZ to be essentially crime free. Crime free if you didn’t count the theft perpetrated by the well–educated and impeccably dressed.
“Well, that’s it then. It’s over,” a dejected young Congressman from Indiana said to himself as he viewed NewsWatch coverage on his tablet. “There’s no way we ever pay back 500 trillion in debt.” The number didn’t sound right, even to a trained accountant like Keith Trimble. Just a few years back, America already had between 20 and 200 trillion in unfunded liabilities, depending on who was counting. Adding just a little interest each year alone made the numbers impossible to imagine. Keith had joined Congress as a small business owner who knew what it was like to make bills and payrolls. His experience recognized when a commercial enterprise couldn’t be fixed.
“I’m afraid your right. And what we must do now is figure out next steps,” said Julia Ruff as she entered the dim lit bar. Julia was the junior Senator from Illinois, and the emotional leader of a small but committed national coalition of contrarian thinkers.
“We just didn’t have enough time. And that Judas, Reed, fed the political party dupes right to the lions. I’m sure it wasn’t for silver either,” Ruff said, disgusted.
“It wasn’t just Reed, Julia,” Trimble said. “My moles in the Interior Department said that even Jacobs from Florida already submitted a project list to Interior.”
“Oh man, if he was in on it, too… I think I’d rather just head straight for home. I’m not sure it’s safe to be out here anymore” Ruff said, only half joking. “By the way,” she continued, “where’s everyone else?”
“Two text messages saying, ‘can’t make it’ and two calls saying, ‘not worth it.’” Trimble sighed, “I’m telling you, Julia, I think it’s over.” Swirling his drink in front of him, he stared at the bubbles that floated to the surface, released by the motion. Cause and effect, he thought.
“I’m resigning today and heading back to the farm. I’m wasting time and money here. I’m heading home to be with the family. Start making plans on how to survive whatever is coming.” Trimble looked away for a moment. Strapping farm boy types were taught to not cry in front of ladies.
Trimble pushed the wooden chair back and
stood to walk away for the last time. “It was worth a shot, and I’m happy to call you a friend. I hope we can stay in touch, and I’ll pray for you and your efforts.”
Julia smiled the sweet smile that had won the hearts of voters before they got to know the computer-like brain resting just behind the pretty face.
“Keith,” she said, “you’re right, as usual. And I’m heading home, too. I plan to be there by tomorrow night. Maybe the Administration will quit spying on us if we go back to the boondocks.”
After the two hugged and Trimble walked out, Julia sat back down to finish a drink handed to her by Rusty, the pub owner. Rusty was a sympathizer, a small-business man in a land that had once celebrated the entrepreneurial spirit. No more. This was now a land that looked on the self–employed as an anomaly not to be trusted. Business owners were someone who couldn’t get a real job and likely cheated the government or some poor employee.
She really enjoyed this bar. Her band of crusaders used the Rusty Bucket as a base of operations and common sense think tank. The wood walls, random historical pictures, even the smell of someone sneaking an illegal cigarette in the hallway made her think of the comfortable little places back home. Each community had one, and she naively imagined she’d be able to create common bonds here with her fellow countrymen, no matter where they were originally from.
She could face herself in the mirror; she did her best to set things right. The America that Julia Ruff hoped to help didn’t exist anymore here in DC. She knew that now. What she could do was return home to her family farm and the small-town college that could use her help. With that she could build a community and help prepare for the trouble ahead.
Had an exceptional America ever really existed except in the minds of a few? The books she read told her that it did at one point in history. This was the land that gave birth to John Deere and Henry Ford and Thomas Edison; an America that fed the world, gave it the freedom of mobility and gave light to pierce the dark. Excessive debt and cultural rot ruined the Shining City on the Hill. She’d been privy to the real economic projections facing the country. If the figures were only half right, the Solar Storms had just been the coup de grace. The fact that no country in the world was in any better condition was no relief.
With the new bill trillions would flow into the major cities and the small towns and cities of America would be emptied out for once and all. Inflation would skyrocket because too many dollars would be chasing supplies and qualified contractors to do the work the bill called for. Few workers still possessed the training to do actual infrastructure work. Only the most influential would get their projects accomplished. Union leadership would love the extra funding because of the inflation adjusted wages. Unfortunately, the rank and file would soon realize that huge increases in hourly wages would be trumped by even larger increases in the cost of food and shelter.
According to the reports, state capitals would consolidate into Regional Capitals and be resettled into major metro areas within a year. Interior’s Homeland Security division suggested the plan, and everyone on Capitol Hill agreed. Communication problems caused by the storms made securing a few larger metros easier than protecting fifty smaller cities spread out across the country. Everyone was best served by making the New Yorks, Chicagos and LAs the priority. The Albanys, Springfields and Frankforts were irrelevant, a relic of a bygone age.
Julia called to tell her family that she was coming home for good, but she didn’t have the heart to tell them why. Her husband knew the reason. Time to go home and get to work repairing a relationship strained in her decade long political crusades. Together they could do some real good preparing their community for the inevitable. If they could feed themselves and their family, that would be something to build on. She couldn’t wait to get home and get started.
Silicon Valley
Later that Year
“Listen everyone, great news here. Secretary Marburg made sure the Reboot Bill that just passed gave 100% funding to Grapevine. She now will have access to every single database, every public and private network, in the United States.”
Rowan Sayam was beaming from ear to ear. He was a master of the universe, or at least of Silicon Valley.
“She just needs the master access code to your internal systems, and the release code for any special Wi–Fi firewalls you may have.”
One of the dozen faces looking at him from the multi-screen wall cut in. There were no physical frames, just boxes on a solid glass surface. The Spaceship was more than just the headquarters of Full Loop Incorporated. It was literally state of the art in architecture and design. There was no expense spared.
Few people could convene a meeting like this, but Rowan was one of those people. Most attending were either believers in Continuity or encouraged the faith as a way to squeeze extra productivity out of their staff. Rowan didn’t question who believed what, but he had a pretty good idea. No matter now, he had them on the hook.
“Why do you need sensitive information like that?” someone asked.
Rowan did his best to keep his cool. Elias Marburg was watching this conversation, incognito. Even though Rowan was the architect of Grapevine, Marburg still held the highest power in their shared faith. This meeting was an important test of his future and he was anxious to impress the Gatekeeper of Continuity.
“Wi–Fi will allow her to access devices that aren’t hooked directly into the hard wires,” Rowan said with a forced smile. “Grapevine can jump from one device to another without having to get permission or some idiot actually having to download something. This will be like an IV antibiotic shot right into the vein combined with the speed and ease of an aerosol spray. She thinks it can be 90% effective within a week.”
“How do we know you won’t cut us out of the loop once this gets established? You could monopolize all web traffic. No one would get a chance to compete for views.” The whining tone emitted from the screen holding the CEO of CarbonSoft Global, always worried about the wrong things. And always on the wrong side of any bet. Then he got to the real concern, “Plus, what if someone could control all the Profiles in Continuity?”
Rowan answered sharply, speaking to the screen as if his target was really there, “Listen, Myron, if we don’t help Grapevine fight the solar interference, there won’t be web traffic anymore. You all just got the bulletin; another massive batch of Solar Storms is heading our way. We have to act quickly!”
He knew he had to address their profits. “Listen, I know selling new devices to replace fried ones is making us all a lot of money. We’ll offer new devices for people to trade in. Each device will have Vine’s special repeater signal, so every single device she encounters will be under her guidance. Not only will all your Profiles be safeguarded on Grapevine, but we’ll be able to introduce Continuity to billions of new followers.
“I brought President Aguilar and the Secretary of the Interior Marburg up to speed. In addition to fully funding Grapevine, they’re committed to allocating a significant portion of money from The Reboot legislation to all your suggested infrastructure projects. Each one of you here will receive a long enough list of projects to keep your investors sailing on the bay for generations to come.”
Smiles all around the room didn’t distract Rowan from the work that still had to be done.
“Are we all in agreement then? Good! On your interface right now are files that will give you the basic architecture for how to expedite Grapevine in your own systems. Please download the files, and we’ll begin integration.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are at the dawn of tomorrow. We are truly the Fruit of the Valley, planting the seeds for tomorrow. This is what we’ve worked so hard for and dreamed about all our lives. This is worth all–nighters and extra staff and special perks for your coders. Let’s bring the true meaning of civilization to our world. And please do keep me posted on your progress. I’ll be relaying any updates I receive to the Grapevine dashboard accessible on your systems after you download the packet.”<
br />
Rowan powered off the screens and looked at the leadership team surrounding him. He felt good - really, really good. Finally, everyone knew who wielded the power here.
“All right, as everyone downloads their packets, Vine will have complete access to their internal networks. When that storm hits tonight, this Valley will see what Grapevine can accomplish. This is where our Faith in Continuity comes alive.”
Shelby County
Shelbyville, Illinois
Two Years Before the Great Reset
“What do you make of this Reboot legislation?” Phil Hamilton asked the men surrounding his table.
“I don’t know, what do you call a horse designed by committee, Einstein?” an older man in a John Deere hat growled back. “The whole mess is being fixed by the same people who caused it. That’s just brilliant.”
Phil Hamilton sat taking in the different conversations while enjoying his coffee. This was Fight Club for ideas, like Ben Franklin and his peers in the pubs of colonial America. The donut shop was the arena, tables were boxing rings. Step into the ring and be prepared to defend yourself. Over three hundred years and still one common theme of discussion: politics were a mess.
Smells of deep fried dough mixed with the aromas of common man coffee brewed just a bit too strong, forming a warm blanket of familiarity Phil looked forward to each morning. Old men who had seen it all, sometimes twice, opined and challenged his beliefs, sometimes just for fun. The picture windows facing Main Street showed it was still dark outside. A lifetime of mornings spent waking before dawn didn’t quit when farmers retired, or after harvest was done.
Two of these patriarchs held particular interest for Phil; they were sitting at their regular table closest to the old-fashioned percolating coffee pot. These two each had millions in assets, but insisted on being seated closest to the free coffee refills. Bob Ford and Delbert Kuhn groused with the rest - both retired from Caterpillar Incorporated, the world’s largest producer of industrial equipment. One possessed an engineering degree from a Big Ten university and the other earned decades of practical experience as a production foreman on the assembly line. Steeped in Midwest pragmatism, Phil was convinced that these two could solve any mechanical problem. Of course, Bob and Delbert believed that, also.