Fortress Farm Trilogy: Volumes 1, 2 & 3 (Fortress Farm Series)

by G. R. Carter

  “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 to patrol our nation’s fisheries. This is vital work, meant to solidify the environmental initiatives crafted by your champions at the Environmental Protection Agency.

  “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 an extraordinary event 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 challenge 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 with a breezy smile, ushering in another 500 trillion dollars in debt.

  CAPITOL BUILDING – HOUSE CHAMBER

  FEDERAL DC – GREEN ZONE

  “You’re a freakin' liar, Reed! A spineless little weasel that ought to be crushed!” Senator Mark Jacobs from Florida stood red-faced, looking like murder. “I agreed to this monstrosity because you agreed that the money would be distributed by the states, not those idiots at the Interior! Do you understand how FUBAR this whole thing is going to be?”

  Reed held up a hand to pause, “Mark, I didn’t know about that part either. Believe me. But listen, it does have some logic to it. President Aguilar promised me that every project of ours, and I mean every project, will be rubber-stamped for the next two weeks. In fact, I understand that the mayor of Miami already has four projects submitted to the Secretary Johnson right now.”

  Jacobs was boiling. “So you and I didn’t know anything about this, but Mayor Lopez already has projects in to be approved. Don’t you find that a bit odd?”

  “Mark, I’m only surprised that you are surprised. You know the kind of guy the President is and you know better than to cross him. This was going to happen, one way or the other. Trust me, I got the best deal for us that I could.”

  Jacobs sighed and looked around. People were watching both of them now. Anyone with a working cell phone had it on, waiting for something to record and post on NewsWatch.

  “Okay, Mr. Speaker. What now? How do I make sure my stuff gets on top of the pile?”

  “Well, Senator Jacobs, get your list over to my aide tonight. The President will hand my file directly to the Secretary Johnson at their AM Cabinet meeting. I’ll make sure your projects are in there also.”

  “Well, that’s something. Any chance I can find out what Lopez’s list was so I can duplicate it and make it look like it was my idea?” Jacobs asked.

  Speaker of the House Thomas Reed looked at him regally and smiled. “That’s the spirit, Mr. Senator! I’ll see what I can do.”

  THE RUSTY BUCKET PUB AND GRUB

  FEDERAL DC – YELLOW ZONE

  Stuck in the worst offices in the Capitol building, the tiny Freedom coalition usually chose to meet at a small bar 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 an “unfortunate incident” trailed them anywhere outside of the Green Zone set up for the government employees and elected officials. The cameras and constant police patrols made it possible for the GZ 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 get America back from being 500 trillion in debt.” The number didn’t sound right, even to a trained accountant like Keith Simpkins. Adding just a little interest each year alone made the numbers impossible to imagine. Keith had joined Congress just a few years back 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 that’s right. And what we have to do now is figure out next steps,” the voice approaching from behind said. Julia Ruff was the junior Senator from Illinois, and the emotional leader of a small but committed national coalition of free 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,” Simpkins 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.’” Simpkins 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 home. I’m wasting time and money here. I just want to go home and be with the family. Start making plans on how to survive whatever is coming.” Simpkins looked away for a moment. Strapping farm boy types were taught not to cry in front of ladies.

  Trimble pushed the wooden chair back and stood to walk away for the last time. He turned back, face filled with resolve. “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’re living back in the boondocks.”

  After the two hugged and Simpkins walked out, Julia sat back down to finish the soda sent 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 cheating the government or some poor employee.

  She really enjoyed this bar. Her band of constitutional crusaders used the Rusty Bucket as a base of operations and a 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 the common bonds she could form 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 once hoped to help save didn’t exist anymore here in DC. She knew that now. What she could do was return home to her family farm and the little hometown college that could use her leadership and connections. With that she could build a community and help those closest to her 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. Through very powerful friends, Julia managed to get ahold of documents detailing 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 shape was no relief. There was nothing to win in this game.

  With today’s new bill, the Pullback they were calling i
t, trillions would flow into the major cities. That meant everything would be settling there, and the small towns and cities of America would be emptied out for once and all. Inflation would have to 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 become Regional Capitals and resettled into the major metro areas within a year. Homeland Security made the suggestion, and everyone on Capitol Hill agreed. Communication problems caused by the storms made securing a few larger metros easier than protecting several smaller cities spread out across the country. Everyone was best served by making the Albanys, Springfields and Frankforts irrelevant, a relic of a bygone age. All that would matter would be the New Yorks, Chicagos and LAs.

  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; just time to go home and get to work preparing for the inevitable. As long as they could feed themselves and their family, that would be something to build on. And she couldn’t wait to get started.

  Chapter Two – The Pullback

  Silicon Valley

  Headquarters of International Business Networks

  Three Years before the Great Reset

  “That’s it! I’ve got it! Now I know how it’s happening and what to do about it!”

  Rowan Shyam was considered around the Spaceship to be an eccentric – even amongst the largest group of eccentrics ever assembled. All were employed by IBN and housed in the The Spaceship, their corporate headquarters.

  The Spaceship perched on a ridge overlooking Silicon Valley, and the view both inside and out was spectacular. All-white metal interior, with occasional bright splashes of color that made even the most cynical design snob gape in awe. High arches, multiple stories-tall great rooms greeted visitors as they walked through floating glass doors that slid up silently as they approached. Escalators criss-crossed the outer walls of the great rooms. There was even an outdoor escalator, for those wanting to enjoy glorious California sunshine on the way up to conference rooms and offices on the 14th floor.

  The leadership of IBN encouraged meditation and reflection and provided private rooms that faced out to the spectacular views. That’s where Rowan, the Lead Vision Officer of the company, spent many afternoons in a trancelike state. He believed that recurring visions were leading him somewhere. Not just somewhere, but to a solution that they could use to defeat the infernal Solar Storms wreaking havoc with his beloved internet connections and electronic devices.

  That was his mission, and his dancing and shouting down the hall made clear to everyone that he had something figured out. Rowan sprinted down to the office pods holding the men and women programming and coding his vision into a reality. Grabbing a wipe-off marker, he began furiously scribbling a flow chart on the closest wall to illustrate his idea.

  “It’s simple, really. Why didn’t any of you think of this before? We can use the UNASA data to notify us when the Solar Storms are heading our way. Then we just tell the networks to shut down momentarily just before the storms hit, and then everything will start back up immediately after the storm passes. That way, they’ll be protected from the surge arcs and won’t have to be repaired,” Rowan said, nearly shouting with glee.

  “We don’t have that kind of computing power, and there’s no way we can have enough people on hand to send out all of the signals manually,” one of the resident braniacs responded.

  “We have GRAPEVINE, and she will be plenty powerful enough,” Rowan spit back.

  Groans and shouts from the room struck a chord with Rowan.

  Rowan held both hands up, commanding the crowd to quiet. “You simpletons don’t understand, now is the time to rollout the Vine. She’s the first true Artificial Intelligence in the history of mankind. We’ve kept her under wraps for years, worried about the right time to introduce her to the Network. She’s been learning everything about the world…every text, every email, every web search, even every uploaded document! She has understanding of it all! Now has to be the time. If we continue to wait, people are eventually going to lose faith in Continuity.”

  Rowan stopped the groaning with that statement. As the Solar Storms affected Network accessibility, the primary focus of some of the greatest minds of the Valley focused on the safety of their eternal Profile. Billions and even trillions of dollars were diverted into creating a truly secure Network host so elite Profiles lived forever with no fear of power or data failure. GRAPEVINE was conceived as an artificial intelligence perfected to be the caretaker of the Network. She would be the guardian, tasked with shepherding Profiles forever. The Spaceship even had a small nuclear reactor built just offsite to supply steady power to The Vine for thousands of years. Long before the reactor ran short of fuel, The Vine and her protected Profiles could easily figure out a way to resupply the energy needed to keep going.

  The ultimate goal of GRAPEVINE was to ensure Continuity, and now Rowan would ensure she proved herself to the world.

  OPERATIONS CENTER OF THE SPACESHIP

  SILICON VALLEY

  “I spoke with the Vine, and she said she can do it. She just needs the master access code to your internal systems, and the release code for any special Wi–Fi firewalls you may have.” Rowan had all senior leadership of IBN surrounding him in the main conference room, and a bank of screens covering the entire window wall with faces representing the brain trust of the digital world.

  “Wi–Fi allows her to access devices that aren’t hooked directly into the hard wires. So she 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.”

  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.

  “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 MSN 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, Marcus, if we don’t get this fixed, there won’t be web traffic anymore. Eventually, we’re going to run out of ways to patch the electrical grid, and the Solar Storms will fry devices quicker than we can get them shipped in.” The extra device sales previously made some of the faces on the screens fabulously wealthy, but even they knew it was short term gains. Research departments were running out of ideas to combat the Storms.

  “We’ll offer new devices for people to trade in. Each device will have The Vine’s special repeater signal, so every single device she comes into contact with will be under her guidance. Not only will all of your Profiles be safeguarded, but we’ll be able to introduce Continuity to billions of new followers. Even those people backward enough to refuse The Path will become a part of the Network.

  “I brought President Aguilar and the Secretary of the Interior up to speed. They’re committed to allocating a significant portion of money from the Pullback legislation to integrate The Vine into all the new CRP 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 machines 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. As it happens, UNASA has told us that a smaller-sized Solar Storm is heading our way right now. This will be a limited test to see how The Vine can handle the information.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, we are at the dawn of tomorrow. We are truly the Fruit of the Valley, planting the seeds for the Fruit of Tomorrow. This is what we’ve worked so hard for and dreamed about. 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.”

  Rowan powered off the screens and looked at the leadership team surrounding him. Although he wasn’t the CEO, everyone knew who wielded the power here.

  “All right, everyone. As soon as the others have downloaded their packets, The Vine will have complete access to every network in the world. When that storm hits this afternoon, this Valley will see what she can accomplish. This is where our Faith in Continuity comes alive.”

  Chapter Three – The Pullback

  Renaissance Tower Building – Headquarters of Rosenberg, Kane & Associates