“I’m aware of that. Thank you.”
“You are quite welcome, Mr. Whitman. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“That will be all, thank you.”
“Then, you have a pleasant afternoon sir,” she said cheerfully.
“Likewise,” he replied.
After hanging up the phone, he pressed the intercom button and asked his assistant to hold his calls and visits. He would be unavailable for the next thirty minutes and out of the office after that.
Once that was taken care of, he reclined in his chair and tried to think. What was the best approach to telling the President what he had learned from Jim Ward? He didn’t want to get Jim on any watch list, so it would be better not to mention any names.
Play it simple, Rusty, and be honest. He could envision all sorts of issues just beyond the horizon and he wasn’t very comfortable with any of them. In fact, as he considered the endless list of downfalls that would result if GM/Hybrid corn was making animals sterile, he could feel the acid building up in his stomach.
He leaned forward and pulled out a drawer on his desk that contained a pack of Rolaids. Unwrapping the end of the roll, he popped three in his mouth and then leaned back in his chair again as he chewed on the chalky tablets, the flavor of which was poorly covered by mint.
The other side of the entire issue was the fact that the press would be ready to follow him. Would he be able to make a visit without attracting all sorts of media attention? He couldn’t by himself, but the President could probably get his press secretary to help either to keep the press at bay or to downplay his visit as nothing more than a tour to see how things were going in the “Heart of America”. Spun that way, it might divert attention. He’d have to have the full support of the President’s staff, which meant that he would have to be completely honest with the President.
It was amazing how quickly thirty minutes could fly by, but the next time that he looked at his watch, it was time to go. Unwrapping three more Rolaids to chew on his way out, he decided to put the remainder of the roll in his breast pocket. He had a feeling that the acid churning in his stomach might not be going away for a while.
The walk to the Oval Office was a short one. He had checked in and was seated five minutes before he was scheduled to meet with President James. It was always good policy to be early. It was never easy on him going into the Oval Office. The history and the authority of the office were a little bit overwhelming. He’d been in there several times since being appointed, but he still hadn’t been able to shake the nerves. He took out the roll of Rolaids and popped three more in his mouth.
He had no sooner finished chewing on them than the door opened and the Chief of Staff announced that the President was ready to see him. “You are allowed ten minutes, but if you can take care of business in five, it would be appreciated, Mr. Whitman.”
“I will be as brief as possible, sir,” Rusty replied nervously.
“Thank you.” He allowed Rusty to pass into the Oval Office and then announced him. “Mr. Rusty Whitman, Mr. President.”
“Rusty,” President James said, rising to shake his hand over the wide desk. “How are things? What do you have for me today?”
“Things are moving well for the most part Mr. President. We have one area of concern that I felt the need to bring to your attention, concerning the poultry production.”
“Alright, go ahead and tell me about it.”
“I received a call earlier today sir, concerning possible viability issues with the eggs of chickens that have been eating Walsanto Seed’s new GM/Hybrid corn. I have contacted the USDA to produce a report that is similar to the report that we put out concerning the nutritional quality of the meat. The report will basically reinforce that the eggs are of higher nutritional value than the traditional egg. That does not, however, go to the root of the matter. Egg nutritional value and egg viability for hatching new chicks are two different issues altogether. I’m sure that you can understand what sort of disaster we would have if there was a sudden shortage of chickens and other poultry due to sterile eggs, and that is blamed on that new corn.“
“Yes. That would be very bad indeed. What is your plan of action?”
“My plan is to make a visit to the rural area of South Carolina where this concern originates and tour some of the farms myself in order to get a better feel for what is going on there. That, of course, is going to touch off a media storm unless it is handled correctly.”
“Very true, but my press secretary can take care of that. He’ll figure out a way to put a positive spin on it. Make an appointment with him and go over your travel times and such. What do you propose that we do in order to get a deeper look into what is truly going on? A tour is nice, but what is the long-term plan to keep a lid on this, but get to the bottom of it? If this becomes a public issue, there will be no end to the speculation that will occur.”
“Understood, Mr. President. I think we should definitely conduct research concerning the actual problem, I just don’t know if the USDA is the right place to have that research done.”
“What are you thinking? Private?”
“Very quiet, totally credible, but very much hidden.”
“The funding?”
“The same.”
“Rusty, I think you’re on the right track. More than likely, this thing will blow over, just like the gray/green skinned chickens thing, which you handled like a pro, I might add. Alright, put together a proposal for research. We’ll figure out a way to hide it in the budget. Brief me as soon as you get back from South Carolina and let’s keep this whole thing under control. We can’t afford any hiccups.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Rusty replied.
“Very good. Thank you, Rusty,” he said, extending his hand over the desk once again.
“Thank you, Mr. President,” Rusty responded, very aware that he was shaking the hand of the most powerful man in the free world.
Rusty released his hand, quickly turned on his heel and proceeded to the door that had been opened for him by the Chief of Staff, Carl Johnson.
“Thank you for being brief, Mr. Whitman,” he said.
“Thank you for allowing the time.”
“You are welcome. Please schedule the briefing that you are to give as soon as possible.”
“I will, sir,” Rusty replied.
It had all gone by very quickly, but he had survived another visit, and as near as he could tell, done well. He’d garnered the praise of the President as well as the praise of Carl Johnson. He knew that part of the reason that he was allowed such easy access for unscheduled meetings was due to his brevity more than to his position. He would keep that in mind and make sure to be well prepared in the future as well. It didn’t hurt to be in good with the gatekeeper to the President.
He took a deep breath as he strode down the hall away from the Oval Office, popping the last of the roll of Rolaids into his mouth as he went. Unless he missed his guess, he’d need to buy one of those super-sized packs before it was all over, maybe two.
15
South Carolina
Late Fall 2020
United States Poultry Association Meeting
Things were getting really heated in the meeting and both Jim Ward and Gerald Davies were doing their best to keep it from getting out of hand. None of the poultry producers in the room were happy, and it seemed that Harvey Winters was doing a good deal of the talking for them.
“It sounds like the USDA is spreading a whole lot of organic fertilizer in the form of bullshit, if you ask me!” He was just getting warmed up. “I got over the fact that my chickens got gray skin when they told us that they were higher in protein and vitamins. Hell, it made it easier for me to get a little higher price for ‘em because of that, and I did alright off of it. Some of the other fellows were just as happy with it as I was, but, by God, I can’t find anybody that’s hatched a chicken within two counties of here now! I ain’t got nothin’ to raise and nothin’ to sell. Hel
l, if I hadn’t held back a few hens, I wouldn’t even have any eggs to eat myself.
Now the main line of bullshit they’re dishin’ out is that these eggs are higher in protein and vitamins, too. But, oh, by the way, they won’t raise a chick. What the hell good does it do us to have eggs to eat if we can’t hatch any more chicks to become adult chickens and produce more eggs and more chickens? Talk about a ‘which came first’ cluster…”
“Well, you aren’t the only one,” Dan Douchet interrupted. “Stacey and I haven’t been able to hatch a chick either. What damned good is it to have higher protein eggs? On top of that, my sows haven’t produced a single piglet. I can’t get my cows or goats to come fresh so that I can get milk from them because they sloughed their calves and kids.
The only answer that we’re getting from the USDA is that our chickens have higher quality meat and our eggs are better than organic. Now, we may not have the fancy degrees and research qualifications to figure this all out, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that there is a sterility problem sweeping through this county. The one common denominator they all share is that damned new corn!”
“I’d dump the damned stuff and go back to what I had before,” Harvey Winters cut back in, “But like a hell of a lot of these guys, I was suckered into buying it in bulk to get the discount on it, and now I’m stuck with it! I doubt there’s even enough of the old corn left to go around. What the hell are we gonna do? How far are they gonna let this go? Even if we dumped all of our corn, where we even going to find viable animals and birds to start over with? Jesus! Even starting over again is lookin’ near impossible…” Harvey faded out, rubbing his temples as he considered how much money he already had invested.
“Hold on a minute, now,” Gerald started in calmly. “There is no proof of a sterility problem. We don’t have enough facts to back that up yet. We had some suspicions raised here tonight, but until we have facts, people shouldn’t go jumping the gun. So, we know now that some of you are having problems hatching eggs, and I can tell you that I have heard the same thing from others, but we aren’t yet sure how widespread it is or to what cause it can be attributed. We’re still looking into this and we are still asking for answers from Clemson and the USDA.
“I don’t trust the USDA as far as I can throw them!” someone shouted from the back of the room. There were first murmurs, then shouts of mutual agreement by others.
“Be that as it may,” Gerald continued, trying not to get caught up in the tone that the meeting had taken. “Those two outlets are our best option at this particular point in time. We’re going to have to trust them to come up with some answers.”
“And do what in the meantime?” Harvey Winters asked. It was the question that they all had.
“I can’t answer that.” Gerald hated not being able to give a solution, but he had to be honest at the same time.
“I’ll try to answer that,” Jim Ward cut in. All eyes moved from Gerald to Jim. “I put in a call to Rusty Whitman. He’s the President’s new food advisor, and is very interested in what is taking place here. Now, I can’t make any promises, and I don’t know that he can either, but he has informed me that he will be in the county next week and he intends to make it around to as many farms as he can while he’s here.”
“Is he going to hand out the same line of bullshit that the USDA is giving us?” Harvey called out.
“I don’t know, Harvey. I will certainly share that concern with him. I hope that you will all be very candid with him and help him to get a handle on what each of you are dealing with.”
“Whitman is coming here?” Dan asked, making sure that he heard right.
“He should be here on Wednesday,” Jim replied. “I’ve already got several of you on my list, but if you want to be included, make sure you let me know. At least let me know any specific issues you would like for me to bring up with him.” Jim waited a few minutes while several of the producers spoke in low voices among themselves. It seemed like most of the public conversation was dying out, so it was a good time to end the meeting.
“Let’s go ahead and wrap things up here. We’ll put together a newsletter with anything that comes up while Whitman is here and any additional information that we receive, otherwise, we’ll adjourn until our next regularly scheduled meeting. Gerald?”
“The extension office will be staying on top of all of these issues whether they are related to poultry or other animals. Gentlemen, rest assured, regardless of what turn things take, I will continue to dig until I find the root of this problem. That’s all I’ve got.” He looked back at Jim.
“Alright. We’ll stand adjourned.”
“The noise level of the conversation increased as each of the men began speaking to his neighbors about their own concerns or about other general conversation. Jim and Gerald shared a glance that was akin to escaping a fatal accident with their lives.
In the back of the room, Jacob Hunter slipped out quietly. He really didn’t want to get into a discussion about the fact that he hadn't had any trouble hatching. It was something of an “I told you so” moment for him, but he really didn’t feel like rubbing it in. As he walked to his pickup, he felt a little bit of vindication, however. He knew he’d been talked about and ridiculed behind his back. He’d had some doubts about the route that he and Elaine had decided to take at times, but they’d stuck to it and in the long run, it had worked out. But he was beginning to fear what backlash might come if others began to discover that he had been right.
He was thinking that maybe their chickens and eggs may have just gotten a lot more valuable. Hell, all of their animals too. He needed to talk about this with Elaine right away, and figure out what to make of it.
16
South Carolina
5 days later
The Hunter Homestead
“Jacob. Elaine. This is Rusty Whitman. He’s an advisor to the President.” Whitman stepped forward and shook each of their hands as Jim introduced him.
“Good to meet you folks.” Whitman’s smile was that of a politician.
“We’ve spent some time at some of the hatcheries and farms around the county this morning. You already know the problem. Not much sense in trying to keep the lid on it much longer.” Jim filled Jacob and Elaine in on what was going on.
“I understand that you have continued to have success hatching?” Whitman broke in.
“Yes, we have,” Jacob replied. Let us show you around a little bit.”
Jacob and Elaine led their two guests around their small operation, pointing out its green features and most importantly, the closed loop, zero waste system that they had built over time. They wound up in the pasture watching the various species of animals grazing.
“So, you feed absolutely no corn to your animals?” Whitman clarified.
“No sir, they eat just what you see. Now, we cut and carry some things to the pasture, but nothing from outside the property goes in their mouths.”
Rusty’s brow wrinkled as he considered what this all meant. This new corn had been labeled a huge success. The White House and a whole bunch of government agencies had helped Walsanto ramrod it past normal channels and tests, in order to kick China’s ass, by selling it to the whole damned world, before China could. He would have to be careful with every step that he took, and watch every word he said. He was already beginning to see that there could be enormous backlashes. How destructive these backlashes would be was still uncertain, but if what he had seen so far was any indication, he believed they would be severe.
He found himself balancing on a very thin tightrope between two realities; the government’s political reality of which he was a major player, and the daily reality of real people’s lives.
The small organic operations like this one were likely to become the only refuge from the coming storm the way he saw it. He had to figure out how to help protect them, yet not get himself fired in the process. He was no good to anyone if he got himself fired. As he stood letting his thought
s look at this problem from different directions, he became aware that Jacob, Elaine & Jim were looking at him, wondering what he was thinking. Thankfully they were polite and didn’t come right out and ask him, because he wasn’t sure of just what he might have said.
“Jim, we’re going to have to try and keep this quiet,” he began. Elaine and Jacob had been labeled as outcasts and they weren't likely to be spreading the word about their success. They weren’t the type. Keeping it quiet among officials would be more important. “This is the way to go.” He turned back toward Jacob and Elaine. “You have to continue doing what you’re doing. There are only a few operations like yours going on in this country and your birds and animals might well be the only ones that are not going to be affected by the issues that we’re seeing. I’ll do my best to protect these types of operations.”
He paused for a moment, deep in thought. He could feel their eyes upon him. “Jim, I don’t know how you can go about this subtly, but you have got to start encouraging some of the other operations around here to move towards organic.” He paused again and searched their eyes. “You understand that I can’t take an official stand here, but if this thing is as far reaching as I am guessing, it might be people like you who will bring us out of it on the other side. You are an essential link here. I’ve seen enough, Jim. We need to get back to your office. I’ve got a report to put together.”
“Thank you for your time and your honesty,” Jacob smiled and extended his hand.
“I appreciate your hospitality,” Whitman replied.
“Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?” Elaine offered.
“I appreciate the offer, ma’am, but we really don’t want to be any more trouble for you.”
“It’s no trouble,” Elaine protested.
Rusty Whitman smiled at the genuine kindness that was being extended to him. He would have loved to just kick back for the rest of the day and enjoy the small farm, but he couldn’t quite relax with the crisis that was looming over his head. Maybe when it all blew over… “Another time?” he asked. “I’m afraid that my schedule is pretty pressing right now.”
The Rise of Walsanto (Genetic Apocalypse Book 3) Page 9