Phil Williams - 2050 - Psycho Island

“What are implants?”

“They’re fake teeth. When your teeth rot, you get these awful toothaches.” Derek handed the toothbrush and toothpaste to Carlos. “Trust me. You don’t want that.”

Carlos tentatively took the toothbrush and toothpaste. He looked down. “I don’t know how.”

“To brush your teeth?”

The boy nodded.

“That’s no problem. I’ll show you. I taught my daughter, Lindsey. She was about your age.” That was a lie. She was much younger.

Derek showed the boy how much toothpaste to use, how to brush in a circular motion, and how to brush the front, back, and tops of his teeth. Carlos brushed his teeth, heeding Derek’s instructions. When Carlos finished, the yellow was gone, revealing his pearly whites underneath.

“That stuff tastes terrible,” Carlos said, spitting in the sink.

“Come on,” Derek replied. “Let’s go finish our work.”

Derek and the boys went back to the orchard and the picker. Unfortunately, it still wouldn’t start, and the computer screen was still blank. “Piece of shit.” Derek said, pushing the Start button over and over again to no avail. He retrieved his phone and called the mechanic.

Two hours later, the mechanic looked at the motherboard, while Derek and the boys waited for the assessment. “It’s fried,” the mechanic said. “You’ll need a total replacement of the computer. And this thing still needs refurbishment.”

“How much will it be to just fix the computer and get me runnin’ again?” Derek asked.

“About 3,000 Fed Coins.”

“All right. Can you do it today?”

“It’s a really old machine. I’ll have to order the part.”

“I need it today.”

The mechanic sucked air through his teeth. “Prob’ly comin’ from China. Might take a week.”

“If I don’t get this thing runnin’ within the next day, I might as well drive it off a cliff.”

“I can check the used market, but I rarely see parts for this picker.”

“See what you can find.”

The mechanic tapped on his phone. “I have an app that acts as a search engine for farm equipment. If this motherboard’s out there, I’ll find it.” A few minutes later, he said, “Nearest motherboard for this unit is in China. If we put an airmail rush, it’ll be here Friday.”

Derek hung his head and rubbed his temples. “That’ll be too late.”

“It’s the best I can do.”

Derek nodded. “Thanks for checkin’.”

“You want me to order the part?”

“Don’t bother. I’m gonna pick by hand.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

“I will.”

The mechanic walked toward his truck.

Derek looked down the endless row of beautiful oranges. He sighed, then headed toward the barn.

“Where are you going?” Carlos asked, hustling after him.

“To get the tractor.”

“We can help.”

Derek stopped in his tracks and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I appreciate that but—”

“For real. Just tell us what to do.”

“One of you, grab a box from the picker and fill it with good oranges off the ground. If you wanna keep the damaged ones, that’s fine, but don’t mix ’em.”

Ricky nodded and ran back to the picker.

“Carlos, grab a box too. Pick what you can reach off the low branches.”

Carlos nodded and ran after Ricky.

Derek hooked up a trailer to the tractor and put an orchard ladder in back. He put on an apron with sturdy straps and a large front pouch. He drove the tractor to the orange grove, stopping where the picker had broken down. Derek and the boys moved the boxes of oranges picked by the machine to the trailer. Then Derek set up the orchard ladder under an orange tree.

He climbed the ladder, picked a ripe orange, and dropped it into his apron pouch. The boys picked up oranges from the ground and the low branches of the trees. Derek thought about the ten-man team of pickers that his machine had replaced. As he picked, he calculated the cost and the possibility of hiring temporary help.

First of all, it was near impossible to find people willing to do this type of work. Second of all, even if he could find experienced pickers, he couldn’t afford to hire them, not with the picker repairs and his mother’s medical bills looming.

“That’ll be all, Zoe,” Jacob said to his young receptionist, who had served the coffee and was now loitering by the door.

Zoe nodded and left Jacob’s office, shutting the door behind her.

Jacob sat at his desk across from Congresswoman Naomi Sutton. She sipped her steaming cup of coffee, then set it on the coaster. Her earlobes stretched under the weight of her gold hoop earrings.

“Like I was saying, we have a lot in common. You obviously support the poor with your words and your policies, and, here at Housing Trust, we do the same by providing low-income housing. I really am a big fan of your ideals, and I think you have a real shot at the presidency.”

“I’m not running for president,” Naomi said, poker-faced.

“ Yet .” Jacob grinned. “I’ve done my homework, and I know you’ll be declaring at some point in the near future.”

“Possibly.”

“You’ll need a lot more money than you currently have.”

“ If I run, I’ll fundraise, like every other candidate.”

“Corrinne Powers has a war chest. Let’s be realistic. She has the money and the popularity to not only win the Democratic nomination but also to beat President Warner.”

Naomi pursed her lips. “If you have it all figured out, why am I here?”

Jacob leaned forward. “Because you’re a wonderful wild card. Because, with my family’s money behind you, I believe you can win.”

“If you didn’t think I could win without your money, I wouldn’t be here. I’m sure you’re also backing Corrinne and Warner.”

Jacob went quiet.

Naomi narrowed her eyes at Jacob. “If I wanted your support, what would I have to do in return?”

“I think you’ve misunderstood the situation. You’re free to do as you wish, whether you take our support or not. I can’t control you. Now, we can have a conversation to determine whether or not your potential presidential policies would support or hinder my family’s business. If we have mutual interests, it makes sense to give you ample support.”

“Let’s cut the bullshit. What is it that you want?”

Jacob nodded, his face blank. “Your socialist policies interest me. Are you against capitalist monopolies?”

“Yes.”

“Thorium Unlimited has built quite the energy monopoly. Today they provide one-quarter of all the power in the US, and that’s including transportation fuel. At current trends, by 2060, they’ll provide 40 percent. Would you consider taking action against Thorium Unlimited?”

“If it was in the best interests of the American people, yes.”

“How about a 90 percent tax rate on thorium power generation?”

“If it was in the best interests of the American people.” Naomi leaned back in her chair. “Are you against monopolies, Mr. Roth?”

“I think this is one place where we have mutual interests.”

“Doesn’t the Federal Reserve have a monopoly on money and credit? Should I also apply a 90 percent tax rate on the member banks of the cartel?”

Jacob tensed his jaw for a split second, relaxed, and smiled. “That would be a problem.”

“I imagine it would be.”

“The Federal Reserve has had an uninterrupted charter since 1913. I would assume you’d want that to continue.”

“If it’s in the best interests of the American people.”