Eaton Rapids Joe
Prologue
Moonbeam signed a sweeping set of legislation into law on his first day of office.
He spearheaded the drive for a new form of government for Cali in the latest election and was rewarded by a 65% margin of victory over his closest rival. Support was largest in urban centers and in affluent suburban areas. Support from rural areas was tepid at best.
The key points of the new platform included completely decoupling from the United States economy, rapidly transitioning to a “sustainable, low-carbon” economy and providing “justice for the oppressed”. Lastly, but most importantly, was setting up a new parliamentary government.
Pursuant to those points, Cali issued its own currency, the ‘Callor’ which was initially pegged at 1.35 dollars-to-the-Callor.
Wages were frozen so every worker received a 35% pay raise. Universal Basic Income was granted to all residents who were willing to submit fingerprints, retina scans, a DNA sample and accept an RFID implant. All bank accounts and assets were reduced by 26% to transition existing dollars to Callors.
Other actions included a tax on the surface area of all roofs commensurate with the income tax that would be collected if they were covered with solar panels with the power feeding back into the grid at retail rates.
To boost employment and to save the environment, all synthetic herbicides and pesticides were banned. The think-tanks at UC Davis calculated that hand weeding and manual methods of pest control would provide employment for more than six million workers.
Military bases were leased to the Chinese for a five-year period after which they would be absorbed by Cali. The rent was paid in an undisclosed amount of gold, which Cali used to buy access to Colorado River water for the duration. Environmentalists calculated that the solar panels on roofs would provide enough electricity to desalinate the equivalent amount of water in five years.
What could go wrong?
Five years later…
Chapter One
Chad looked up from the post hole he was digging as the sound of footsteps approached him. Some things never change in farming. There are never enough fence posts, gates, hoses, or hours in the day.
It was Miguel. He was not surprised. Miguel was the oldest student in his crew of ten. Cali mandated twenty-six years of compulsory education. Starting at age sixteen, academic underperformers (problem students), were shunted into work crews to educate them.
As a farmer, Chad was forced to take twelve students every growing season. He was allowed to return two of them. Chad had spent four years in the military and was familiar with all of the games.. He quickly figured out which two were likeliest to give him problems and wasted no time getting them off his farm. The sooner they were gone, the sooner everybody else settled down and got to business.
Miguel had elected himself as crew-boss, and nobody had contested it. Miguel was almost twenty-six and was about to age-out of the system.
Six of the crew were male and four were female. All of the females had hormonal implants to prevent pregnancy.
Miguel led off, “You aren’t feeding us enough.”
Chad put down the post driver. “I am feeding you exactly what the book says I must feed you.”
Miguel said, “I talked to Ricky who was on your crew last year. He said you fed them more than the book said.”
Chad sighed. This came up every year. “I can feed you more if you work more. If you work by ‘the book’ I will feed you by ‘the book’. Last year Ricky’s crew worked when the temperature was above 75 degrees. More work, more food.”
Cali upgraded the original RFID tags to include biometric tracking information. Bona-Brown passed laws that prevented farmers from working “students” when the temperature was above 75 degrees Fahrenheit. In central Cali, that was most of the daylight hours during the summer.
The chips would beep if the wearer’s heart rate went above 120 bpm and the temperature was above 75 degrees. If the wearer said “Play,” the chip shut down. If the wearer said “Work,” then a crew of law enforcement personnel would come on the run.
Miguel thought about that for a minute: the temperature was 85, but it was a dry heat. The boss was working in it. He was working steadily, but not quickly. Word among the students who had been at the farm before was that Chad took care of his people. On the flip side, he was ruthless to those who fucked with him.
Miguel said, “I ain’t promising anything, but what needs to be done?”
“I need a row of fence posts driven from here to that pine tree,” Chad said, pointing to a tree sixty feet away. “The fence posts need to be six feet apart and they need to be driven in at least two feet.” “Then I need a circle of fence posts driven here,” pointing at the scratches in the dirt, “so it looks like the number 6. You can cheat a little bit on the depth of the posts at the top of the six, but the posts in the circle absolutely have to be two feet deep… or more.”
Miguel looked around. It was the oddest thing he had ever seen. The boss wanted a sixty-foot run of fence in the middle of nowhere. It started nowhere and ended nowhere.
“When does it have to be done?” Miguel asked.
“I need it done by August first, but sooner is better.” Chad said.
“Whadda we get if we do this?” Miguel asked.
“I ain’t promising anything,” Chad said, “but I wouldn’t be surprised if there were some eggs to go with the oatmeal at breakfast a couple of mornings next week.”
Miguel looked up at the sun. “You got any problem with us getting started after six in the evening, when it is a little cooler?”
Chad said, “It is yours to manage. I only want to be here to make sure it is done to my satisfaction and to get to know the crew.”
One of the other changes since Calexit had been the loss of automation. Izzo Farms used to have 160 acres of producing citrus trees. Twelve years ago Chad had an attachment on the three point hitch that would have driven six-foot Mesquite poles two feet into the ground in less than two minutes. It was not like that anymore.
Calexit had been devastating to the market for premium fruits. Facing bankruptcy, Izzo Farms grubbed out the fruit trees and sold them a chipper for “sustainable energy”. Then they converted their acreage to a potato-wheat-cabbage-hay-hay rotation. The potato-wheat-cabbage portion of the rotation was two full calendar years. The two years of hay were necessary to return fertility to the soil and to break the disease pest cycle.
The timing of the change had been lucky. Cali had fifty-five million citizens and quickly learned that foreign exchange markets are not impressed by governments with socialist leanings. The Callor slide from 1C-to-$1.35, to parity, and then then to 4C-to-dollar. With that devaluing of its currency, Cali was hard pressed to feed herself.
It took a couple of evenings for the crew to beat the fence posts in, but finally the strange shaped run of fence was put in to Chad’s satisfaction. Chad brought work gloves for the crew the first evening because the youngest ones never had them. Half the crew was Latin and chatted away among themselves the whole time. Chad had never thought it was important to let the students know he was a fluent speaker of Spanish… Listening to the conversation, he agreed that Mardi, his wife, was indeed a fine looking woman.
Chad, Mardi, Miguel, and Bonita sat on the front porch of the house. It was 6:00 pm, and the temperatures were still above 90.
Before Calexit, Chad and Mardi would have been inside, where it was air conditioned.