Apocalypse Drift (52 page)

After briefly mulling her father’s words, she balanced on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I think I’ll give your idea a try.”

Plymouth, Ohio

July 7, 2017

There were over 30 soldiers, machinists, and government officials standing in
Sugarhill’s gravel parking lot. All of their attentions were focused on the firm’s small forklift as it struggled to raise a pallet full of freshly machined parts onto the back of a semi-trailer. 

Grover turned to Dan and observed, “You’d think none of us had ever seen a shipment of parts before. It’s not like these are for the space shuttle.”

Dan surveyed the gathered onlookers and nodded his agreement. After a bit, he leaned closer and said, “I think the end-use of these components is more essential than any space exploration right now. If the other projects are as successful as we’ve been, a lot of people will have electricity soon.”

Grover had come to appreciate
the civil servant. Dan delivered everything as promised and rolled up his sleeves to do whatever was required.
If we had more like him, we probably wouldn’t have gotten into this mess in the first place
, thought Grover.

There were actually three different shipments of parts going to different locations. The army had sent additional escorts while the
soldiers onsite were unhooking the huge generators that had been providing the electrical power for the shop.

Dan noticed Grover inspecting the activity. “We’re on our way to southern Indiana next. There’s a small circuit board manufacturer near Columbus that is going to produce a few thousand replacement parts for us.”

Grover nodded, wondering if it required less or more effort for electrical components than machined steel.

Before long, all three trucks were loaded and ready to roll. Grover was proud of his people and wished he could provide some sort of reward or compensation for the crew. They had worked 14-hour shifts for four days to make the deadline for shipment. Grover inspected every single part himself to ensure tolerances were met despite the harried circumstances. The men had produced some of the best quality he’d ever seen.

Much to everyone’s surprise, the army major who had been supervising the project asked everyone to stay put. The man climbed aboard the bed of the trailer and proceeded to thank the hard-working people of Plymouth and Sugarhill.

When everyone finished clapping, the officer nodded to a group of soldiers standing nearby. These bystanders began to carry out cases of military meals and setting them on the ground in front of the
Sugarhill workers. It was a lot of food – more than any of them had seen in months.

Dan pulled Grover aside, out of sight from the main body. He offered his hand, “Grover, you’ve been a pleasure to work with, sir. If I get a chance, I’ll try to stop by after things get going again. Until then, I have a surprise for you.” Grover looked down to see Dan holding out a small paper bag. With a puzzled expression on his face, he opened the bag to find a one-pound can of ground coffee and a box of dog biscuits. The old man showed one of the most genuine smiles Dan had ever seen. “Rusty will love these!”

Washington, D.C.

July 8, 2017

Everyone stood when the president entered the conference room. He moved with purpose to the head of the table, scanning each face in the room as if taking mental roll call, all the while smiling and nodding. “Please, everyone be seated.”

The collection of senators, congressmen and cabinet members took a few moments to get settled. In front of each was a clean white note pad, two
sharp No. 2 pencils and a glass of water.

The purpose of the meeting was a mystery. Normally when someone called such a high-level powwow, an agenda was provided – or at least a description. This assembly had merely been described as a “matter of national security.”

The chief executive wasted no time. “Thank you, everyone for coming. As you all know, we have definitive Intel that China was directly responsible for the recent hardships experienced by our country. Over 55 million of our countrymen died as a result of their actions. I’ve read some projections that estimate it will take 30 years for our nation to heal the economic wounds inflicted by their actions.”

The president paused, scrutinizing the expressions of the men and women before him. Reed detected anger in the man’s eyes, a boiling hatred that had been brewing for months. After the visual tou
r of the room, the commander-in-chief continued. “We, the governing officials of the United States of America,
cannot
let this act of war pass by unaddressed. To do so would endanger our recovery, our future, and place the citizens of our great nation in further jeopardy. To let such an act go unanswered would embolden our enemies, both present and future. It is for this reason that I’ve asked all of you to come today. It is for this reason that I’ve called this council of war.”

Reed’s mind erupted in protest.  Had
he not been cowed by respect for the man’s office, he would have loudly objected to such thinking.
The country wasn’t ready yet
, he wanted to shout.
We’re barely on our feet, and you want to start a war?

The chief executive seemed to read his thoughts. “I know many of you are sitting there…thinking I’m ‘off the reservation.’ I
know
we’ve just started the healing process. I’m sure Roosevelt’s staff felt the same way. The country was just recovering from the Great Depression, and suddenly a war was thrust upon them.”

The president paused to let his words sink in. “Our people pulled together then, and I trust they will now. There are some who believe a war drives economic expansion. Many historians opine that America’s growth during the 1950s was due to the engine-of-commerce developed to fight World War II. Let me be clear, that is not my motivation. That is not the purpose of this meeting. China has benefited from our suffering. China is stronger now than before they attacked us. I believe it is necessary to right this injustice and using our still-significant military power is the right tool for the job. If we don’t, I fear that China will soon establish itself as a formidable, communist-led superpower in a very short time. The world has already rushed to their doorstep to do business. Our very assailants are filling the economic vacuum left by our decline.”

Reed’s outrage was dulled by the president’s words. He had to admit the man was good – very good.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t want war. I have no desire to order thousands of young Americans to their death. We’ve already lost so very, very many. On the other hand, it is a reasonable possibility that China will continue to interfere with our recovery. They are in an even stronger position now to thwart our efforts from an economic, political and military perspective. Does anyone here really believe they won’t press their advantage? Can anyone here honestly look me in the eye and argue that Beijing won’t accelerate their efforts to dominate globally?”

No one volunteered to take up for the Chinese or challenge the president’s premise.

“So, with that said,” the president continued, “I believe we must respond is a measured, calculated way. Everyone at this table has done exemplary work helping our nation recover. All of you have proven to be the core leadership of the recovery. I’m afraid I must add to your workload. With the strictest confidence, a matter of national security, I would like recommendations, suggestions and options for how we respond to China. We will reconvene in three days and begin the formation of a plan. Thank you one and all.”

The president stood, smiled around the table, and promptly exited. The room he left behind was forlorn. Reed knew the man was right about China. The congressman guessed similar meetings were being held in Beijing but for the opposite reason. Waiting his turn to exit the room, it dawned on Reed that a part of him really wanted to make the Chinese pay. He wanted revenge. He wanted to see them suffer like his fellow Americans. He wanted to test
their
endurance.

But war? Death, destruction and possible escalation to a nuclear exchange made Reed shudder. This couldn’t be the right answer
.

As his driver maneuvered through the ever-increasing traffic reappearing on the streets of the nation’s capital, Reed focused on the scenes passing by his window. The heaps of debris reminded him of bombed cities; the ever-present lines of haggard, depressed people reminiscent of the refugee camps – foreboding images of humanity normally associated with a war-torn region. The children could have been pictured in late night television commercials asking for donations to assist starving orphans in a distant land. The patriot inside of him wanted revenge. His spirit wanted the people who did this to his
neighbors and friends to feel the wrath of unchecked vengeance. Reed took a deep breath and tried to clear his thoughts.

And yet not a shot had been fired, not a single bomb had been dropped. The Chinese had accomplished all of this death and destruction using a new kind of weapon. Reed wondered if the old style tools of war could do as much damage. If the full conventional military might of the
US were deployed against China, would the damage be this extensive? Would the number of dead and dying be so high? Even if the destruction were equal, thousands of US service members would perish in the effort. The Chinese had accomplished their victory without a single causality.

Reed’s mind continued to play it out. The attack against the United States had cost practically nothing. How much treasure would it cost the
US to wage war using the traditional methods? Reed remembered the forecasts of the Second Gulf War’s ultimate price tag. Destroying things wasn’t cheap.

There had to be a better way. Reed agreed with
the premise that China couldn’t be allowed to get away with their actions, but a hot war wasn’t the answer. The US had to come up with a way to leapfrog this new weapon that had been used.
Maybe the ultimate revenge involves crippling them without firing a shot either.

After being dropped off, Reed couldn’t focus on anything else – he had to find a solution to the problem. The ring of his cell phone caused him to jump. While some limited service had been restored, it was rare to receive a call. It was his wife, which was even more of a pleasant surprise, given her remote location.

“Hello.”

“Reed,” her voice twinkled, “I can’t believe I got through! Dad took the kids and me for a horseback ride up to the ridge, and I had the phone in my saddlebag. It beeped, and all of a sudden I had bars!”

“Oh, honey, it’s great to hear your voice. This is such good news. I hope we can talk more often now…” An annoying tone filled Reed’s ear, signaling a lost call.

He looked at the phone, tempted to try and call her back, but the display indicated, “No service.” Still, it had been good to hear her voice. He could just imagine the look on Cob’s face, justified yet again in his dislike of technology. The call made him think of their last conversation on the porch, the old man trying to relate government to ranching.

Wait a minute
, thought Reed. “That’s it!”

Chapter 14

Matagorda Island

July 8, 2017

Wyatt watched his children from Boxer’s swim platform while rinsing the sand from his feet. He had learned the hard way that Morgan didn’t appreciate having beach sand tracked through the cabin. Midway through the footbath, animated body language had drawn his attention to the shore where Sage and David were clearly involved in a sibling disturbance. He’d observed such activity for over 15 years and considered himself an expert.
I could make book on the outcome
, he mused.

What was so riveting about this exchange was trying to predict who would come out on top. For years David had carried the league’s best winning percentage, the contests often determined by simple physical strength. As the two had grown older, Commissioner Morgan had outlawed physical contact. His son quickly learned that he would no longer be allowed to dominate with pure muscle – mom and dad would throw a penalty flag.

At an early age, Sage surged to become the league leader in flops, fakes and feints. The post-toddler girl quickly realized that the mere accusation of brother-bullying was enough to ensure her victory. The older, larger boy often found the penalty box disquieting.

David, not to be outdone, became a crafty opponent and took advantage of the new rules. His scouting report listed a growing repartee of diversions, misinformation, and frame jobs. Without slow-motion replays, there was no way to tell how many broken vases, kitchen messes, and unkempt toys were actually Sage’s fault.

Throughout adolescence these contests raged, each contender improving upon the other’s tactics in a never-ending cycle of “one-ups-manship.” Mom and dad refereed to make sure no one was seriously hurt. A strict off-season was enforced – lest the two combatants focus more on fighting than being team players for the family franchise. Any consideration of the two eventually loving each other was often in question.

Wyatt smiled as he watched the contest taking place a few dozen yards away. Despite the two being out of earshot, he could have done a remarkably accurate job of portraying who was saying what – what cards were being played, and who was bluffing.

Sage obviously wanted something from her brother. The “ask nicely” approach had failed early, but that had probably been expected. Wyatt watched as the athletes changed tactics, each trying to capture the momentum and coast to final victory. Before long, David was on defense, Sage surging into the lead with a late rally. Wyatt had to grin at the girl’s tenacity – whatever she wanted today, she wanted it bad.

With a critical eye worthy of a sports commentator, Wyatt immediately detected the change in David’s body language. The clock was running out, and his son had lost momentum. It was a precarious position. Admitting it was too late to salvage a play-off spot; his son resorted to vying for future draft picks.
Before long, a deal was struck and the contest decided. The contestants hugged - a half-hearted display of sportsmanship ending the fray.

David headed off toward the ranger station. His head was low, and Wyatt was pretty sure he was giving himself a good talking to. The agony of defeat was always a bitter pill to swallow. Sage, on the other hand, strode with her head high and a slight grin on her lips. Wyatt could picture his daughter running around the stadium waving her celebration to the crowd. As she stepped onto Boxer’s deck, Wyatt asked, “Everything all right?”

“Sure is. David’s going to be a little late for super – he’s on his way to the airfield to get me some planks of old, weathered lumber I picked out. They were too heavy for me to carry back.”

“Wood?”

“It was your idea, Dad. I’m going to use the boards as a canvas. I’ve got some ideas on how to make a combination painting and sculpture out of the planks.”

Wyatt now understood the earlier contest. “And what did you have to trade David to get him to act like a beast of burden for your project?”

“Oh, he felt sorry for me. I’ve got to take his shift doing the dishes on Tuesday.”

“That’s it?”

“Yup. He’s really turning into a nice guy, Dad. I was shocked at how easy it was.”

Wyatt was skeptical, but didn’t say anything. He figured David had sensed the same restlessness and depression in Sage. David was pretty perceptive most of the time.

“So, Sage, what are you going to paint?”

“I don’t kno
w, Dad. I probably won’t decide until I get started. Maybe I’ll just open up and let everything I feel bleed all over the canvas.”

Wyatt winched at her description, the concept of his daughter’s blood a negative image. Still, he was glad she was doing something to help herself.

Washington D.C.

July 9, 2017

An informal, secret committee was unofficially formed. The members of the House and Senate who had attended the president’s briefing were all included.

Reed hadn’t slept all night. He’d run the numbers over and over again, looking for any reason why his idea wouldn’t work. There was no hole, nothing he could find.

He’d been in his office on Capitol Hill first thing, surprising the Capitol Police with his pre-dawn entrance. Brenda had been dispatched to the Library of Congress four times. The intermittent web service had received its share of curses, but the two had gotten the job done despite the computer glitches. All of the time spent researching, refining, and verifying assumptions made from memory indicated his plan was sound. He was ready now – ready to go out on a limb and present his solution.

The senior senator from North Carolina cleared his throat and called the meeting to order. The distinguished gentleman from the Tar Heel State skimmed a piece of paper in front of him and announced, “Ladies and Gentleman, Representative Wallace from Texas has passed along a strongly worded request to make a presentation to our esteemed committee. Barring any urgent protest, I see no reason why we shouldn’t begin there.” After a quick glance around the room, the senator nodded at Reed, “Congressman.”

Tempering the combination of nerves and excitement, Reed strode to the podium at the front of the room. Behind him was a large flat panel monitor being driven by a laptop under Brenda’s control. His assistant’s reassuring smile from the back of the room helped Reed relax. The screen flashed, displaying the first image of what was a hastily prepared slideshow.

Reed began, “Thank you, Senator - I’ll be brief. Our meeting with the president two days ago troubled me, as I’m sure it did most of you. I just couldn’t get over the feeling that waging a war at this time wasn’t in the best interest of our country. While I agree with the president’s position that we as a nation can’t let this attack go unanswered, I also feel strongly that we aren’t ready to trade blows with anyone, let alone a nation of several billion people.”

Reed scanned the crowd, reassured to see several people apparently agreed with his reservations. He continued, “I’ve had one of those eureka moments - a brainstorm born of desperation to save our nation and avoid the deaths of thousands of our military. We have an opportunity before us, ladies and gentlemen – a chance to turn a horrible situation into a positive one. I believe we can rebuild our great republic while at the same time addressing our enemies. I believe we can accomplish both of these prerogatives with a very simple change in our national policy, and without firing a single bullet from an American weapon.”

The congressman had their attention now and was ready for the “shock and awe” portion of the presentation.

Brenda manipulated the computer and the image behind Reed changed:

(Editor Note: Reed’s slide presentation can be found in Appendix A)

The congressman half turned and casually pointed to the glowing monitor behind him. “What you see here is a simple chart showing the sources of the federal government’s revenue – or where we collected the money spent in 2016.”

Everyone was given a few moments to digest the numbers before Reed continued.

“Imagine how strong our economy would be without any federal taxation. No personal income tax. No corporate income tax or burden on small businesses. The frustration and cost of tax preparation, legal wrangling over the interpretation of our tax code would be eliminated. Trillions of dollars, normally paid in taxes by corporations large and small could be repurposed to invest in our nation. Every working American would receive an instant increase in their take-home pay. Disposable income would soar.”

Reed signaled to Brenda for the next slide.

“Not only would our people benefit from such a system, but every corporation in the world would want to do business in the United States of America. Such a tax-free environment would create a drain on the talent, investment and educational resources of every other country on the planet. Corporations, researchers, doctors, scientists, and entrepreneurs would be beating down our door to live and work here…here in the tax-free United States.”

Reed pointed to the display behind him and continued. “The amount of
US dollars in circulation has been controlled by the Federal Reserve System since the 1920s. I don’t want to change that, but I do propose we alter how the new money is distributed and used.”

Reed paused to sip from the glass of water on the podium, giving his listeners a chance to digest the introduction to his revolutionary idea. “I propose to substitute our existing income tax revenue from three different sources.”

Reed quickly stole a glance around the room to gauge his audience’s reaction, realizing he needed to make this idea as understandable and simple as possible.

“For over 80 years, the new money released into our economy has simply been
given
to private banks. The federal government, as we all know, has borrowed and taxed for its income. For years, our leaders have fought pitched political battles over spending versus taxation. Spending has always won out, and the interest on the money we have borrowed is a significant portion of our national debt. This growing debt is also one of the main reasons the Chinese so easily inflicted such punishment on our nation.”

Reed paused for a moment, his voice softening. “I propose that the government print its own money and spend it rather than collecting taxes.”

The senator from Nevada jumped in at Reed’s pause. “Minting money in amounts dictated by politicians always leads to ruin. This has been tried dozens of times, with the same result - disaster. Hitler came to power because of such policy and what it did to the German people. The British almost destroyed the early American economy by dumping counterfeit bills during the Revolutionary War. I could go on and on.”

Reed shook his head, “No, Senator. I want to back the money with the land holdings of the United States, as our government owns more than a trillion acres of land. I also believe we need to implement strict controls over how much money we can print – eventually a constitutional amendment.”

The senator wasn’t done. “So what you are proposing is some hybrid of neo-chartalism and a gold standard. But instead of gold, the currency is backed by dirt?”

Reed nodded, “Yes, I suppose that is as good of a description as any, Senator. There is one more caveat to my proposal. The government can only create the same amount of money as there is real growth in the size of the economy, with a limited amount built in for a controlled inflation. This will avoid the pitfalls experienced with this method in the past.”

A murmur spread through the gathered officials. Reed nodded to Brenda who advanced the slides. He raised his voice to bring everyone back to his presentation. “Economic growth isn’t enough. Even with an average annual increase of 6% of the GDP, that won’t equal the tax revenue we utilized before the collapse. There are two other sources required for my plan to work.”

Reed gestured to the monitor behind him. “As all of you know, we have suffered millions of causalities. This fact, combined with a tax-free environment, leads to a serious discussion about immigration. In reality, our projections indicate that we will have to address two separate immigration issues.
The first being the same problem that has plagued our nation for years. We’ve been unable to agree on a compromise between controlling our borders and allowing America to be the melting pot of the free world. A solution has eluded us for a long time. My proposal is simple – allow anyone who wants to come here a quick, efficient access to legal status within the country. For a period of time, collect income taxes from them until they have reached a certain level of contribution and then grant them citizenship.”

Again, the room burst into several different conversations at once. Reed held up both hands to calm everyone down. He nodded to the closest man. “Congressman Wallace, you mean to say you want to sell American citizenship? Has our great nation deteriorated to the point where we will sell a passport like a blue-light special at Kmart?”

Reed nodded, “Yes, Senator, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Canada has been doing it for years. Several EU countries have similar programs. Some of these nations even have a ‘cash up front’ policy. My plan would allow each immigrant the chance to prove, over time, that they are capable of pulling their own weight. Once proven, they receive their citizenship and can stop paying taxes.”

Looking around the room, Reed realized he was making progress with some members of the committee, while others were extremely skeptical. From the back of the meeting, a voice sounded, raising a concern. “Congressman, I applaud your creativity, but the banking and finance lobby is extremely powerful. They are the engine of our economic train. The banks aren’t going to accept this.”