CHAPTER 35
“Gil,” Jason said, shaking hands with his accountant. Introductions were made.
“Been hunting yet?” Jason asked.
John, James and Gil had gravitated together along with their wives. Gil’s wife, Charlene, was an Amazonian brunette with a Mediterranean look that had to be at least six feet without the six-inch platform heels. With them she overtopped every guy in the group. Gil clearly enjoyed mountain climbing as much as he enjoyed hunting.
“Any idea how much work your ‘one credit for a unit swap’ is giving me?” Gil said, poking his client in the chest. “I’m not just your accountant. We’re the support firm for James and John’s firm.”
“So sorry to bring credits in,” Jason said humorously.
“Oh, you can bring in all the work,” Charlene said. “As a partner in the firm, let me thank you most profusely.”
“You are most welcome,” Jason said, tipping his glass to her. “But you should mostly thank Jewel. Either way, glad to get work for such a lovely lady.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Charlene said, smiling. “But I’m the one who’s supposed to be flattering the client! ‘Clearly, sir, you’re a handsome man and a powerful one as well . . . ’” she added unctuously.
“Nice classical reference,” Jason said, laughing. “Not compliments I’ve previously gotten.”
“Classical reference?” Elisa said, just a touch thinly.
She was starting to do that forced float women did when they were getting jealous.
“Movie from . . . God, the eighties I think?” Jason said, patting her on the arm. “A comedy. That was a joke. Do you hunt as well?” he asked, looking at Charlene.
“Gil’s thing,” Charlene said. “I’m a city gal. Though as soon as we’ve got the tidal wave under control, a trip to a tropical paradise wouldn’t be remiss. It’s been like tax season lately.”
“I’ll take a trip to the islands,” Madeleine said. “The ball and chain can slave away in the office.”
“We need to get you all to the surface,” Jason said. “Balls and chains included. Someplace nice. There’s more to life than spreadsheets.”
“We’re all swamped assimilating the mass of clients that dropped in our laps,” James said, tipping his glass in Jason’s direction. “Thank you, to be clear.”
“Seconded,” Madeleine said.
“How’s that going?” Jason asked. He was sure that between James and John they’d be able to handle the work. But since Jason’s name was attached to it and he had his own investment money in the firm . . . He was a touch worried.
“Complex,” John said, shaking his head and chuckling. “That’s what we were just talking about.”
“That’s what he’s been talking about nonstop,” Mary said, patting his arm. “Which is fine. You need a sounding board.”
“Not every unit holder who proxied gave us business,” James said. “But a huge number did. Enough that, as I said, we needed some investment capital to hire more people. But then . . . how do you manage it? Every client has ten million shares in ten million items.”
“Which is the question,” Jason said. “How do you? Consolidation?”
“Consolidating is not always the best choice,” John answered. “Either for the client or the firm. Nor is it necessary given the number of clients we’re handling at this point. What we’ve started doing we’re calling distributed consolidation.”
“Which means?” Jason asked.
“One thing that’s become clear is that everything here is at least in threes,” James said. “For redundancy and competition. For example, there are three power plants in Carolina. Were you aware?”
“I was,” Jason said.
“Nope,” Elisa answered.
“So . . . we’ve got clients who have shares in all three power plants of all the states,” John said. “The power plants are currently being run by the government . . . ”
“Along with the power company, different entity . . . ” James said.
“But the government is mandated to turn them over to private ownership,” John continued. “Problem . . . ”
“None of them have boards,” Jason said.
“Right,” Gil said, shaking his head.
“So, we were going to trade all of our clients’ various power units for controlling interest in one plant in Carolina and the power company units,” James said.
“And then the electrical and power guy we brought in ran into a snag,” John continued.
“You can’t control both a plant and the power company,” Jason said. “Right?”
“That’s the issue, yes,” James said. “Antitrust, essentially. So, we found an Israeli firm that had convinced the Copt patriarch to allow unit trades. He’d been telling everyone that it wasn’t time yet.”
“One suspects that money changed hands,” Charlene said.
“So now the Israelis and the Copts own Carolina Power Plant Bravo,” John said. “And we’re building a controlling interest in Carolina Power and Light as well as already having a controlling interest in Helenus Alpha.”
“CPL has six million units attached,” James said, shrugging. “As a financial firm, we have to have twelve percent to force a vote.”
“We have about nine,” John added.
It was clear the two had been working together long enough they could finish each other’s sentences. Which was a good sign in Jason’s opinion. He was just glad they were getting along.
“And then there’s the issue of a managing firm,” James said. “Right now, it’s being handled more effectively than you’d hope by the state. But they have to turn it over within six months.”
“I’m mostly taking unit management,” John said.
“I’m working on finding the investment capital to set up leasing companies,” James added.
“And our firm is working on the accounting,” Charlene said. “Which is why getting to the ground any time soon for any of us is probably a nonstarter.”
“Ouch,” Jason said. “I’m sorry to throw so much on you. Wasn’t my intent. Better you than me.”
“It’s a headache,” James said, grinning and taking a drink. “But it’s a good headache. We’re looking at another merger. It’s a small firm, not many clients, but it’s got an excellent unit management architecture. That should help.”
“And many of the units are capital generating already,” John added. “People are paying for power. People are paying for transit. Capital is flowing. The economy’s getting into gear.”
“Are you with Brandywine?” Charlene asked Elisa.
“I’m . . . ” she said, looking at Jason. “Right now, I’m going to go with girlfriend. I helped with some harvest but I was just along for the ride.”
“Were you hunting?” Charlene asked.
“Fishing . . . ?” Elisa said, grinning. “The biggest predators on the islands were land crabs. But we did some spearfishing. I speared a couple of huge yellowfin!”
“I mostly went down to check out the crayfish situation,” Jason said. “But there was a yellowfin run going through so we figured out catch methods on those as well. So, now we’re shipping yellowfin tuna, crayfish and some, not many, land crabs. Land crabs taste amazing but they don’t reproduce fast so they’re more of a treat than a major protein source. At least, I hope that’s how its viewed.”
“We all got some in care packages,” Mary said, dimpling.
“It is incredibly good,” Charlene said, sighing. “Just having real food again is nice.”
“Which we really need to get to everyone,” Jason said, frowning. “We need to get the flow up and the costs down . . . ”
“You’re doing so, dear,” Elisa said, patting his arm. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“I’m surprised things have gone this well,” Mary said. “Things have stood up incredibly fast if you think about it. We shouldn’t be this far along. These are very big operations and yet people are just finding a way,” she added with a furrowed brow.
“People just leaned in,” Jason said, shrugging. “What else are they going to do?”
“We had the national divorce everyone had started talking about,” Mary said. “Right?”
“Yes.”
“What does our liberal friends’ Constitution look like?” Mary said. “How are they managing things?”
“Liberals aren’t all nimrods,” Madeleine said. “I used to be a liberal. They should be handling it fine.”
“Really?” Mary asked archly. “This station, in terms of the laws that are currently in force, the Constitution, the leadership, even the news as it’s standing up, is fairly libertarian. Arguably to the right of many of the inhabitants. Our Robot Benefactors set it up that way.
“How did they set things up in whatever system has the other half of the United States? We have more Eastern Europeans than Western. Think about the European contingent in Liberal Utopia. Do you really think that modern progressives are going to allow some . . . nobody to just drop down to the planet and start killing things left and right? Just because it’s food? How dare you! Don’t you care about the environment? Those are rare and endangered species! Meat is murder! How dare you?”
“Let them eat print food,” Charlene said.
“Exactly,” Mary replied. “But if you don’t think that people who have power are eating land crab, you’re wrong.”
“Oh, no, they will,” Elisa said. “Let’s see . . . It’s parliamentary.”
“Given,” Gil said.
“And heavily bureaucratic,” Elisa added. “The parliament probably doesn’t have any real power . . . ”
“That will all be with the ministries,” Mary said. “As in the EU. Which is a much better system than the United States! The people who know how things are supposed to run are in charge! How could anything go wrong?!”
“I take it you’re joking,” Gil said, brow furrowing.
“You don’t want to hear my wife really get going on the subject of the EU,” John said.
“Yes, I was joking,” Mary said. “I suspect it’s a dystopia of huge magnitude. The people with power will want to get real food. So will everyone else but the people with power are going to get it. How is the question I haven’t figured out.”
“Scientific research,” Jason said. “Teams doing ‘studies’ of the species on the planet. Samples have to be returned. Animals have to have gut checks. You can’t just waste it after that.”
“Really?” Elisa said.
“Redfish were nearly wiped out at one point in Florida,” Jason said. “I happened to be spending some of my college money going to a university down there at the time and was interested in marine biology. One of the departments had a grant to study redfish recovery.
“Florida fish and game had put a strict limit in place on redfish but you had to catch some from time to time to see how the species was recovering. And to do that you had to do gut checks.
“You would just catch them with a fishing rod. There’s an algorithm for it to see how the species is doing. We nearly got busted by fish and game for catching a whole mess of them. We hit a school and were reeling them in one after the other, all undersized, way over the limit of one per day per person.
“First a fish and game helo flew over. Then a boat showed up. They were all under size and we had ten times the limit. But we were doing research. They looked at our grant papers and left. After we’d done the gut checks, we had a really nice fish fry. That’s how the bureaucracy will get around limiting trips to the surface but ensuring that they get fed. You want grants to study the ecology? We get the good cuts of meat.”
“Take nothing but memories,” Mary said liltingly. “Leave nothing but footprints. Except for the bureaucrats and politicians, who’ll be eating land crab every night.”
“You really think so?” Madeleine said.
“Never underestimate the hypocrisy of a progressive,” Mary said.
“It’s a pretty good guess,” Gil said, nodding. “I’ve been thinking the same thing and wondering about how the important people get away with going hunting. You’d be surprised how many antigun liberals were hunters. Was on safari next to a rabidly antigun actor one time. Feedback I got was that he was petulant he couldn’t just shoot anything, think breeding female lions for God’s sake, and was treating everyone like dung.”
“How do the important people go hunting?” Jason said. “They volunteer to help in field studies. Noblesse oblige. It’s volunteer work! We’re volunteering our time! What could be more noble than volunteer work? And they’re very careful to hide their trophies. Only people in the know.”
“Where would they have room?” Madeleine said. “James, I promised not to say this again, but . . . ”
“You really want out of the compartment,” James finished. “She really wants out of the compartment.”
“I can’t imagine George Soros staying in one of those compartments,” Mary said.
“I’m not sure what our robot overlords would do about someone like Soros,” Jason said, thoughtfully.
“Toss him in a woodchipper?” Elisa said.
“Marry me,” Jason replied. “But I’m sure that there are varieties of housing in our liberal friends’ system. From everyone according to their abilities, to everyone according to their needs. And important people have needs.”
“So, everyone doesn’t get exactly the same treatment?” Madeleine asked.
“What Marxist system has ever been equal?” Elisa said. “Some pigs are more equal than others.”
“Speaking of getting out of the compartment, though,” Jason said. “I think there’s a way.”
“How?” Madeleine asked, her eyes lighting up. “Tell me there’s a way to have a house.”
“There’s a way to have a house,” Elisa said. “Sort of. An eighteen hundreds house with some modern amenities. All of them eventually.”
“How?” Madeleine repeated.
“There’s one way on the station and a different way on the ground,” Jason said. “My bots made me a house in a day on the ground. Nice one if small. The way on the station is you get a larger compartment and simply build it. Mostly flexmet but you can furnish it with furnishings from storage.”
“Can we afford a large compartment?” Madeleine asked. “I’m not pressing, but . . . ”
“I’ll look at the costs,” James said. “We really do need somewhere larger. We’re used to entertaining for business. That’s . . . ”
“Impossible in the compartments,” Jason said. “Which is what this space was designed for.”
“So where did all the wood come from?” Madeleine asked. “It’s a bit darker than I’d go for but . . . it’s lovely.”
“Withywindle Fine Woods and Furnishings,” Jason said.
“Withywindle?” Elisa said. “You are such a lovely geek.”
“I don’t get it,” Charlene said.
“It’s another Tolkien reference,” Elisa replied.
“That’s one of the small companies you put credits into,” James said. “They did all this?”
“With mostly flexmet and a few electric motors we picked up on the net,” Jason said. “Thing is, you can build nearly a complete wooden house the same way. All the stuff precut and ready to be fitted together, packed in some containers to drop to the ground. At that point it’s put together by . . . crafty robots?”
“That . . . wouldn’t be something with immediate relevance,” Gil said carefully. “But it has some long-term interest.”
“Speak for yourself,” Madeleine said. “I’ll put up with bears for a decent house. Big house?”
“What we’re looking at is more like a mansion,” Elisa said. “On an estate.”
“How much?” James asked.
“Less than you’d think,” Jason said. “Haven’t priced out the current house but it’s not going to be huge.”
“Nails,” John said practically.
“Pegs,” Jason said. “With robotic building it’s cheaper than you’d think. But there are issues.”
“Such as?” Gil asked.
“No forced air heat or cooling,” Elisa said, ticking the issues off on her fingernails. “Currently. Some window air conditioners are available, but not many. Very little glass is currently available. Why people would have windows sitting around in their houses is unclear but most didn’t. Hinges. Bathtubs. Plumbing. Stoves. Ovens. Washer and dryer . . . Some of those are for sale. Those came along as household goods. But for the long term, they’ll have to be produced. Hinges are a big thing. Fittings in general that aren’t wood.”
“Stone?” Madeleine asked. “Tile?”
“Tile can be made,” Jason said. “Once the factories are up and going. Stone? There’s stone everywhere as long as you don’t ask for marble.”
“Concrete,” John said. “You’ll need some.”
“And my clever boyfriend has figured that out,” Elisa said proudly.
“Brandywine has found sources of cement,” Jason said. “Both volcanic and Portland style. Sand is readily available. The real issue I thought was going to be lime.”
“What?” Madeleine said, frowning.
“Concrete and mortar are made from three materials: cement, sand and lime,” Jason said. “All three derive from types of rock. But lime was made, on Earth, by heating up limestone.”
“And there are no limestone formations on Bellerophon,” Gil said. “It’s too young.”
“I’m going to let that just lie there,” Madeleine said. “Because otherwise I think I’d have to learn too much about limestone . . . ”
“What you have to know is it’s composed of calcium carbonate,” Jason said. “How it was primarily made, on Earth, over billions of years, not really important. But it’s the major material of coral reefs as well as clam and oyster shells. With me so far? Can you say calcium carbonate?”
“Calcium carbonate,” Madeleine said, frowning. “Science, not my strongest subject.”
“Stay with me,” Jason said. “Calcium carbonate is a molecule made from calcium, obviously, and . . . carbon. Anticipating our need for concrete, guess where calcium carbonate is made?”
“A carbon converter?” Gil asked. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“The sole and only source of lime is carbon converters,” Jason said. “Which, note, means they also need a source of calcium.”
“Which comes from where?” John asked.
“Bones,” Elisa said. “Any source, really. Although I did know how limestone was made. More or less.”
“There’s also an alternative to concrete based on, essentially, a glue,” Jason said, shrugging. “Also made in carbon converters.”
“Those are going to be big,” John said.
“Very. Another big issue is landscaping. I’ve figured out ways around the issue of rosebushes. But the lawn . . . ”
“No grass seed,” James said.
“Very little,” Jason said. “Just what our Robot Benefactors sent along as starter. I foresee a big sod business at some point in the future. The question will be: When? Exactly. Get into sod too early and you go . . . bust. Dad joke. Sorry. Too late and you face too much competition. Grass farms will be big at some point.”
“Everybody in business is asking when there are going to be golf courses” James said. “Speaking of using large compartments, they’ve already set up a driving range. But everybody wants golf courses.”
“A country club,” Madeleine said, shaking her fists. “Tennis courts.”
“Don’t worry,” James said, patting her hand. “We’ll found one.”
“Which, if I can get around the issues of the house, will be easy enough,” Jason said. “It’s just a big house with a very big lawn.”
“A city club wouldn’t be remiss,” Gil said, gesturing around. “Something like this would work well.”
“Talk to Mr. Kranhouse at Withywindle,” Jason said. “We can do all sorts of millwork, finishing, furniture, trim . . . ”
“Country club,” Madeleine pouted. “I know how I sound but . . . I look twenty again! My tennis outfits still fit. I want to look twenty again on a tennis court under the sun!”
“She was a professional tennis player,” James said. “We met playing tennis. Practically her first utterance in Pegasus was ‘Tell me there are tennis courts!’”
“You won’t be able to just jump in the Town and Country,” Jason said. “Three-hour ride to the planet.”
“Which was the sort of thing it was when country clubs were first founded,” James pointed out. “It was at least three hours by carriage.”
“You can build a tennis court in a large compartment,” Charlene said.
“Under the sunshine,” Madeleine replied. “It’s . . . important. To me, anyway. Sorry. I am sick to death of this station. Malls are fine. I never wanted to live in one.”
“As soon as we have the house set up, you can come visit,” Elisa said soothingly. “It’ll be a lot like a country club.”
“I haven’t played tennis in forever,” Jason said. “But . . . I can certainly find some clay . . . ”
“I’ll put up with giant bears,” Madeleine said. “I’ll nail them right on the nose with a tennis ball!”
“Speaking of which,” Gil said. “I’m sorry to hear you lost someone. I heard it was a bear attack.”
“It’s okay,” Jason said. “We found what was left. It may sound hard-hearted, but even back on Earth we’d probably avoid liability and . . . ” He shrugged. “That one was out of our hands. It was less a bear attack than a bearish Darwin Award.”
“What happened?” Elisa said. “You didn’t mention losing somebody.”
Jason looked around and obviously everyone wanted to know.
“So . . . first of all, you figure he’s got background since he worked for decades for Florida Fish and Game.”
“Sounds like he would tend to know his way around,” James said reasonably.
“Did fine in training, no signs of psychosis or disconnect with reality. Then when he was on station, on his own time, checked out for personal hunting, he decides to go after a megagrizzly with a compound bow.”
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Madeleine said, hand over her mouth.
“This, to say the least, did not work out well,” Jason said. “He was filming it with a headcam. He’d done a sneak to within about thirty meters of this peacefully feeding adult male megagrizzly. Lined up. Took the shot. Most powerful compound bow on the market. Solid hit, right behind the shoulder.
“And the bear sort of looks at where this . . . something has bitten it, looks in that direction. Spots our young brave as he is lining up a second shot, as if that’s going to do any good. Then there’s all the screaming and running and then the louder screaming and the Oh, Lord, let the pain end! He had the AI specifically locked out. We weren’t even informed of this until the AI determined he was deceased and his orders were inoperative.”
“Could you recover . . . ” Elisa said.
“We did,” Jason said. “It was . . . grisly. It was the first and only time we’ve dealt with planetary wildlife protection and they wanted the bear put down for being a human killer. I told them it wasn’t a human killer: It was a moron killer and if they wanted to go track it down, they could feel free. Which they did. Probably needed to be put down for the arrow if nothing else.”
“Some people just . . . ” Gil said, then shrugged.
“There’s hunting dangerous game,” John said. “Then there’s suicide by testosterone.”
“Wasn’t what it was,” Jason said. “Seemed like a totally reasonable and sane guy. But he left a message saying he was going to do it or die trying.”
“Why?” Charlene asked. “That sounds like suicide by bruin.”
“Well . . . ” Jason said. “His name was Christopher Robin. According to his final message: He just hated bears.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” Mary said, shaking her head and trying not to laugh.
“It’s also true,” Jason said. “Sometimes life just hands you the punchline.”