Facial recognition cameras hung from every stoplight and every corner of every building, covering every square inch of Arlington, Virginia, deterring most would-be criminals.
The traffic was moderate and flowed efficiently, with perfect spacing between vehicles, given that most of the automobiles were autonomous. Driving wasn’t the American pastime that it once was. With high energy prices, many people worked remotely, as well as played at home in VR. As a result, fewer people owned cars, preferring to use autonomous car services as needed.
A few trucks rattled by with their diesel engines, but most of the vehicles were silent, running on batteries. Some thought the Greater Depression of the 2020s was sparked by rising interest rates, exposing shale oil companies as insolvent. Most of those companies went bankrupt. They’d already exhausted the profitable oil fields, and what was left was not economical without the cheap money to finance their Ponzi schemes.
Their bankruptcies—and the subsequent decline in oil production—destroyed the myth of American energy abundance and created shortages, which led to a spike in the prices of all commodities. The shortages were exacerbated by government-enforced rationing, which caused a panic and further hoarding and even higher pricing.
Ultimately, the high commodity prices popped the worldwide stock and debt bubble, leading to the decade-long Greater Depression. After that, rich people bought electric cars. Poor people bought bicycles.
The Washington & Old Dominion Railroad Regional Park was built on an old railroad bed, with massive powerlines overhead. It boasted forty-five miles of nearly straight running and biking paths. The asphalt was cracking, but that fact kept the bike traffic to a minimum. Despite the many fissures and imperfections, Summer glided along the trail, expertly adjusting her stride as needed. She passed walkers, joggers, and even a few bikes. The powerlines hummed. Traffic was still audible beyond the narrow buffer of the woods.
She felt strong. Fast. She competed in the eight-hundred-meter run in college. Summer wondered if she’d even make the team today, given the domination of the enhanced athletes. She tried not to think about the baby. Her stock baby. Even if they could afford an enhanced baby, this baby would be stock.
Enhanced babies were planned, the fertilized eggs enhanced in a lab, and implanted in the mother. The wealthy mostly birthed enhanced children. Surrogates were common as many wealthy women didn’t want to subject their bodies to pregnancy and childbirth.
Only poor people had unplanned pregnancies. They’re like animals. They can’t control themselves. That’s what the wealthy mothers at the hospital said about the poor mothers and their stock babies. Of course, they never used the term stock. Natural was the correct term. They were too classy to use lower-class slang.
Early in her career, Summer had worked as an obstetrics nurse. She had helped doctors deliver enhanced and natural babies alike. The haves and the have-nots shared the nursery space in those first few days of life. She wondered if that would be the first and last time they’d be considered equal.
4
Naomi Sets the Stage
The afternoon sun glowed orange in the background. Naomi Sutton’s rented and autonomous limousine drove adjacent to the Manhattan Sea Wall. The massive concrete dike was constructed to stop the flooding that plagued the city in the 2030s.
“It’s a mistake to announce now,” Vernon said.
“I would think this would be a perfect opportunity,” Alan replied, referring to the buzz around Naomi’s reelection to the House of Representatives.
“We discussed it, but ultimately we decided that there’s too much noise to drown us out. Naomi?”
Naomi turned from the tinted window to her chief of staff. “I agree, but we can’t wait too long. Money’s an issue.”
“How much money do you need to run a competitive presidential campaign?” Alan asked.
“Competitive? Shit, we’re running to win,” Vernon said.
Naomi glanced at Vernon; he winked back at her. Vernon wore a tailored black suit. He was always well-appointed. Manicured beard. Fresh fade. Built. Beautiful caramel skin. He looked a decade younger than his forty-five years.
“Of course,” Alan replied.
Naomi turned her gaze from Vernon to her husband. “We need a lot more than we have.”
“If anyone can do it, it’s you.” Alan grasped her hand and squeezed. “I’m so proud of you.”
“We still have a long way to go to reach the promised land.”
“It’s good to stop and smell the roses.”
“I’d rather keep my eye on the prize.”
“Then I’ll keep my eye on you.” Alan squeezed her hand again, then looked at Vernon. “When do you think Corrinne will announce?”
“Within the next week or so would be my guess,” Vernon replied.
“She’s the woman to beat, right?”
“My money’s on Naomi.”
Alan smiled. “Mine too, but my family doesn’t own Next Generation Robotics.”
Vernon chuckled. “Corrinne does have that robot money. But she doesn’t have the right ideas. Nothing is more powerful than an idea whose time has come.”
“Victor Hugo.”
Vernon nodded to Alan. “Damn straight.”
They often bantered like friendly rivals. People who didn’t know them thought Vernon was Naomi’s husband and Alan was her chief of staff. Even in 2050, with racism relegated to the dark corners of society, people were still surprised she had married a white man.
“It all depends on whether or not the party’s ready for socialism,” Naomi said.
“Democratic socialism,” Alan said with a grin.
“Sixteen new democratic socialists were elected in the midterms,” Vernon said. “We’re definitely gaining ground.”
Two hours later, Naomi stood on stage at the convention center. A banner hung behind her that read Naomi Sutton, Congress, New York’s 12th District. The audience was packed with voters and supporters, enjoying the collective victory. Naomi waited for the cheering to dissipate.
“Thank you so much for coming tonight. And thank you for trusting me to represent your interests. When I first started in congress, I thought if I worked hard and proposed good policies, I could make a difference. Now that I’m on my fourth term, my outlook has changed. I know the ins and outs of the DC swamp. I’ve seen the corruption of congresspeople, senators, and even presidents. I’ve seen corporate lobbyists buying and selling politicians, the same politicians who claim to represent the people.
“We no longer have democracy in this country. We have a fascist system that benefits the wealthy and the powerful.” Naomi paused for effect. “I have to say, capitalism has been quite successful.”
The audience went quiet, followed by hushed whispering.
“You heard me right,” Naomi said. “Capitalism has succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.”
Hissing and a few boos erupted from the audience.
Naomi waited for the crowd to quiet. “You’re probably thinking, That’s not true, Naomi. But it is. The goal of capitalism is to take from the many and to give to the few, to concentrate money and power at the top of the pyramid. The goal of capitalism is for powerful companies and individuals to take as much of the pie as possible. The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer.