Things were still raw for a while, but it didn't change my responsibilities any. If anything, it brought a few things into focus that I had been putting off. Which is why I was now sitting at a table with two generals, a secretary with a ramrod posture and suspiciously short haircut, and a congressman. They surprised me – I asked them to come in for a meeting and they turned up before the end of the week. Before that moment I hadn’t realized, but we'd come a long way since I had to beg to get the attention of a couple of captains or majors. Of course, even though I still never met with those captains and majors, my logistics people had weekly conference calls with them.
We went through some basic pleasantries – easy enough since only the congressman had a family to talk about, it then was time to dive into business. We were in an actual conference room instead of the coffee shop where I liked to do business. I had Ashley and Austin sitting on my side of the table, each with a few tablets open in front of them. “Basically, I called you here because our priorities have been changing, and I think we’d all be better off if PPM started to sever ties with the Pentagon.”
The two generals went pale, but I’d given the congressman a hint of what I wanted ahead of time. I suspect the secretary also knew my agenda ahead of time.
“Don’t panic, we're rethinking our relationships with everyone, at this point. I mean, we don't even get paid for most of them. The Pentagon contracts are the only deals involving significant cash flow. I mean, our deal with Disney is probably our most valuable, and all we get from them is full access to their media.” I think the Arcology’s people would flee in droves if we lost the Disney streaming services. “And frankly, as fair as the contracts are, we don't do anything with the money you pay use except to pay taxes.
The alpha general jumped in there, shooting a glare at the smug congressman, “I’m sure we can renegotiate any tax concerns you have. PPM is still very...”
I waved him down with a smile. “Don't worry, don't worry, really. I should be more clear. It's been a rough few weeks, and I'm wandering from the point. Always too many distractions, right?” I smiled and slid Ashley’s tablet in front of me, flicking a file open as I talked, “Taxes really aren't an issue. My point is that getting income, just to pay taxes, just to get paid by the government, just to pay taxes again... it's silly. Don't you think? Circular, anyways.”
“I might be odd, but then I've never been a business major type, either. Money used to be awesome, you could buy what you needed to live, with money. Nowadays, not so much. I don't need to pay for manpower – I've literally got people who want to help out then I can use. All we really need is design work, and there's more than enough people who do it for fun to fill our needs. We do consume a lot of entertainment, but it’s amazing what people will produce just for the sake of an audience. We don't need to buy raw materials, stuff doesn't wear out enough to keep stripping everything, and the land and properties we own already cover everything. For that matter, since electricity is free, we’ve gotten recycling efficiency up to ridiculous amounts. Did you know that you can turn powdered rust back into pig iron with enough energy? It’s crazy – digging up and processing old garbage dumps is turning out to be more efficient than mining or harvesting.”
“I don't need to buy finished materials either, robots make what I want after I push a few buttons or order my Voice. None of that needs cash, nor do I ask for cash from the Arcology residents to make their own stuff.”
“And, frankly, trying to manage old-fashioned business deals is just making it harder to run the bits that matter. Harder to focus on what the people living here need, harder to focus on the research that we're still pushing. Harder to let ourselves do what we want, you know?”
I slid over the tablet, putting it in front of the beta general. He picked it up, flicking through the pages of the open file. The first few pages in the folders included maps, annotated with lists of various assets. I grabbed a few more, opening an identical file on each before sliding them over to the rest of the delegation. The rest of the pages detailed the old ongoing contract, listing the terms to be modified at the end of the period. “These papers are our offer. I hope you find it generous. To sum it up: we're giving you full license to use and manufacture Plasma Steel, as well as our automated production techniques.”
I took Austin’s tablet and slid that over too - his had more detailed files listing assets and personnel. “Our facilities in Virginia, Georgia, and California should be more than sufficient for your needs and will get signed over as consideration for modifying the contracts. Additionally, we'd turn over our mining and extraction operations in California, West Virginia, and the Gulf seabed. This includes all the physical assets on site, and we will provide access to the same managers, developers, and designers you've been working with for a period of up to three years. They’ll see to training your own people to take over. Just so you know, none of them are under any non-disclosure agreements that apply, so feel free to poach anyone who’s willing.”
“In exchange, we would like to walk away from our defense contracts.”
The four men were silent, engrossed in the files. While they waited, I stood and took a pot of coffee from the sidebar in the room, pouring myself a cup and offering it to everyone. That bit of hospitality done, I sat and waited. The Alpha generals spoke up first after the secretary nodded at him. “It certainly looks like this meets our needs. At least in the short term. We've got about fifteen more years and we'll have finished rebuilding the navy...”
It was my turn to interrupt with a laugh, “If you'd been willing, you could have been done already. Fifteen more years? How long could a boat possibly take?
“I'd rather not argue about that, sir.” The general got back on point, “I've got only got one concern, from a military standpoint, and that is continued access. You've got the best R&D program in the world, and you’re years ahead of your competitor. And ever since Anghat passed, we doubt there’ll be many more breakthroughs coming from overseas. I'd want assurances of continued access to their work. We can't afford to let someone else steal a march on us.”
That made sense, although I don't think we were as far ahead as he thought we were. I knew for a fact that Plasma Steel production, and most of its variations, had been cracked by other people. A lab in Switzerland did it first, followed quickly by Israel and a private company in Germany. From there it had spread out – I think the German company didn’t have security quite up to par. But it didn't really matter whether Plasma Steel production was cracked by independent researchers, by people following the unavoidable clues we left by our operations, or by outright theft of our secrets. Several other countries and companies were producing their own Plasma Steel products, and it would only spread at this point. There really hadn't been a major breakthrough since Anghat released his generator. That was, of course, a large part of why I was changing our plans. Trying to rely on a monopoly you can’t control is just stupid.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
I was nodding along with the general, anyways, none of his concerns seemed like an issue. The congressman was smiling. Prepared for the meeting or not, his district held both a production facility and a major mining operation. He spoke up, “I'll take this back to committee, but I don't see any real objections. I'm assuming the rest of your board is on board? I mean, the other owners?”
Austin was the only owner who spent any time running the company, which was part of why I’d brought him along. He still found ways to get his hands dirty, somehow, working with the designers who fine-tuned the drones and AI production facilities. If any of the men in front of us had specific questions about assets, production, or staff, then Austin would be the best person to answer. In contrast, El and Alan were totally consumed with our art community and Hansen lived for his research. None of them were happy putting any attention into PPM’s operations, and they had been simply rubber-stamping my decisions for a while.
I stood up at this point. “Gentlemen, I know you're busy, and I just tossed a major issue into your laps. I'll let you do any announcements, releases. Let us know about any details you need figured. I’m not in any real rush, but I’d rather not drag things out either.”
Everyone stood with me, and we exchanged the expected pleasantries. I offered to show them around more – the beta general and congressmen had been to the Arcology before, but it was the other two’s first visit. They demurred, saying they had plenty to do today, and they filed out. Some PR flack guided them back out to the foyer they had entered through.
I needed some sunshine, these conference rooms always felt grim. They had the same white walls and ceiling as everything else. Someone had done their best with the space, with a tasteful wood conference table and matching sidebars, rugs covered the floor, and plenty of artwork was spaced around the wall. Tasteful or not, it made the place feel like a hotel room in a prison.
I also wanted to talk to Austin a bit more, so down we went. He wanted to do some inspections down in our grow rooms. Our 'greenhouses' were all sub-sub-basement levels. I'm don't remember exactly how deep, but when the lift door opened my nose was immediately assaulted by warm, humid air, scented with damp wood, dirt, flowers, and maybe a hint of manure.
We both put on sunglasses – there was a cabinet full of them just outside the lift – and strolled out into the greenhouses. The greenhouses were all different sizes, depending on what was getting grown, but they were all brightly lit with full-spectrum lamps, and mostly warmer and more humid than I usually found comfortable. But that conference room made the sweat beading on my forehead and dampening my collar feel liberating.
Austin strode off along a trough of sorts with banana trees growing out of them. He stripped his shirt off as he went, dark skin already shining with sweat. He turned a grinned at me, “I know the castle is pretty libertine, but somehow it only feels right to take my shirt off down here.”
He blinked in the light, showed his shockingly white teeth as he reached out and pushed against one of the banana trees. “You know banana trees aren't really trees, right? They're more a bush or a stalk of grass. The biologists tell me that bananas are some sort of berry, but I've always thought they were more like grain. Of course, either way, you can't exactly climb one.”
“So, what is it you like about being down here? You can't be tanning.”
“Do I need to tell you that's racist?”
“Racist? Nah, just pointing out reality. Gotta keep tabs, make sure my partners aren't planning a takeover.”
“You think I want your job? You put this lash-up together, you get to run it. I'll keep playing down here in the dirt. Besides, I think you'd cry yourself tears of joy if one of us tried to take over. Back to your video games,” he laughed at me as he turned away and started walking slowly between the plants.
I'll admit, I did miss games, sometimes. Those long sessions in the dorms are some of my fondest memories. But life had changed. I still usually get nights off and could play if I wanted to, but games had lost something. A joy was gone from it, a carelessness. I miss it, but at the same time, I think that the joy is gone because I don't miss it. I still laughed at Steven's suggestion.
With a shrug, I followed him along the fragrant path. “Nah, I'm actually down here because I'm a little worried. Things are changing. Some of it’s me, some of it’s getting pushed on me. But whether I want it or not, the way PPM interacts with the world is changing. You know? I've tried to talk about it...” Not only were we ending our contracts with the Pentagon, but we were also ending our contracts with most of the other big corporations. Our basic production techniques were getting posted on the internet, and we were manufacturing and giving away seed facilities that would let anyone with access to the raw materials make anything they wanted. And iron, glass, plant oils, and wood dust weren’t exactly difficult to procure. We couldn’t just squat on our licenses anymore, and we couldn’t rely on what other groups provided either.
Austin smiled, “Yeah, my kids like to talk my ear off about it – a true socialist society, no money, needs met, blah blah blah. But we still gotta eat, that's part of why I'm down here. I do like the warm air though, and the fake sunlight. But I tell myself I’m making sure the bots are keeping the silos full.”
"Good,” I nodded. “We're thinking the same. Here's a question for you to think about: how much can we increase and diversify production? And how much can we increase storage?”
“Whoo. You’re talking food?” We’d moved past the bananas and reached a more open area with plants growing in actual soil. He continued after I confirmed I meant food.
“We're about at max for the land we manage, but we still give away most of what we grow. Some of that is part of deals we’ve made, but a lot of that goes straight to the state. We keep maybe fifteen percent of our outside crops. We keep closer to three-quarters of the greenhouse crops. That’s mostly because we only grow non-local crops here – things that need controlled environments.”
“What would it take to feed the arcology entirely from internal sources?” I asked.
“Well, we could open more greenhouses easily enough. I wouldn't want to go too much deeper under the arcology, but there's no reason we can't open new caves under our hinterlands. Digging will take the most time, but we could probably double output in a year or so.”
“Why dig? It made sense when we were keeping our footprint under control, but if we're gonna expand, why not just build normal greenhouses on top somewhere?”
“We could, but that’ll make the designers squawk. We’d end up messing with the skyline or the footprint, and those guys are pretty attached to the way the castle looks. And it’s not that hard to dig, really. The land under the airport outside is totally unused, and we have space under the train depot too. Only reason not to dig is if you want more capacity right away. Are Mongols on their way?”
“No, I'm just thinking long-term. No need to rush. What about storage?”
Austin scratched his head, “I'll admit I'm less certain about the numbers there. Officially, we've got about a month of food on hand, but that can't be right. We don't harvest grain monthly, but we still have bread year round. I'll have to do some research there. I know we mostly try to do just in-time production, but there’s padding there too. I’ll find out the details.”
“Good, good. Figure out what's reasonable, I think I'd like to make sure we have some significant storage ready. Especially for materials and food that we can’t produce locally.”
“No problem. I'll get my geeks running AI sims this afternoon.”
“Great, thank you, Austin.” I smiled. “And maybe doublecheck industrial production first. Same sorts of considerations – let's see if we can’t make sure that we can do everything the Arcology needs from purely internal resources. And let me know if there are any likely bottlenecks or shortfalls. Maybe I can kick some of that over to Hansen’s people.”
Austin laughed, “Yeah, do that. Never know, they might be making helium outa vacuum by now.”