| III.1.087 |
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In 2458 Bluemud had traveled to South America with the aim of prospecting for minerals
on the fringes of the Amazon and, in the Southern Capital he had encountered a man
called Rodrigo Sanchez. This Sanchez had been a collector of artifacts, especially gold
and jewelry and he possessed large quantities of such items on his extremely grand
estate. He also had a number of illegal servants which the authorities in the south were
more inclined to turn a blind eye to than in the north. Sanchez and Bluemud had
eventually spent a month together in a tent conducting a rather fruitless exploration but,
during that time, Sanchez had become impressed with Bluemud's idea regarding the
restoration of Capitalism and the had discussed the possibility of forming a secret
organization to that effect. This, Bluemud thought, would consist of small cells of
economic activity throughout the world, tenuously linked at first, but poised to later grow
and join together. Bluemud had even thought up what he considered a rather clever title
for this organization: the Society for the Re-Introduction of Free Enterprise, or STRIFE, for
short, and had a shot at drafting its first charter. When the two men parted with no great friendship Bluemud had forgotten all about this idea and so he was greatly surprised when Sanchez visited him a year later in the north and informed him that he, Sanchez had found others who were interested, including some in the north, and that the organization had been formed already, with someone other than Sanchez, though unspecified, as its head. Bluemud readily agreed to join and to accept the challenge of developing a coal mine and later steel and iron production which, as Sanchez knew, he had always wanted to take on. Since then, to protect its members against discovery, there had never been a meeting of the organization though there had been regular periodic contacts from Sanchez to encourage further progress. The penultimate contact in this regard had been several years before to inform Bluemud that the first meeting of the organization would take place at some point in the future, with alternative places and a partial date established without specifying the year. The last contact had been a simple message: "see you in the sun next year." It was in response to this communication that Bluemud arrived on the morning of October 12, 2477 at a hut in a pine forest high up in the mountains of the almost deserted island of Hispaniola. It must always be somewhat of a shock when you join a secret organization and finally discover who your co-conspirators are. If they are strangers it must be bad enough; if they are men you know and thought previously to be rather unimpressive types then it must be worse. In Bluemud's case it was decidedly worse, at least in regard to the two members of the organization who had arrived, together with Sanchez, preceding him. One of these was Elbert Grant: a small balding man with wispy hair and round metal-rimmed glasses. Bluemud was really surprised to find a man like Grant at a place like this. Academic and weak with a domineering socialite for a wife had been his reputation fifteen years ago when Bluemud had last encountered him. He had only been an acquaintance though their wives had been much friendlier. The other man was Wallace Hodges, sour faced and dumpy, looking as if his mother had spat on him at birth and he had never recovered from the event. Bluemud had gone to school was Hodges and encountered him again during the War. Cruel and callous, willing to kill for pleasure was not a reputation Hodges had but a proven fact as far as Bluemud was concerned. Waiting for the others, they stood together outside the hut. All of them wore peasant clothes except for Sanchez who had on a gaudy uniform. 'I have been promoted,' he explained to Bluemud beaming grandly. Bluemud had a sinking feeling looking at that uniform and he shivered, half wishing he hadn't come. 'I wish they'd hurry. I don't want to be in this place any longer than I have to,' said Grant consulting his watch nervously. 'Don't worry, Grant!' Sanchez clapped him on the back. 'Like I said, already. It's very safe here.' 'You can trust Rodrigo, Grant!' Hodges gruffly chomped on a cigar. 'He got us here after all this time, didn't he? Everything's well organized as usual.' 'Why don't you gentlemen wait inside?' Sanchez beamed. He took Grant's arm and led him between Bluemud and Hodges, drawing close to Bluemud. 'It's warmer there and there are refreshments.' 'Perhaps we will,' said Grant. 'Coming Bluemud?' Bluemud followed Grant into the hut. Inside a shiny conference table illuminated by bright overhead lights looked out of place in the dingy surroundings. There were six seats at the table and before each an agenda and a copy of the STRIFE Economic Plan. Bluemud flipped through one of them. What he read there took him back a bit! They were his words, his ideas, his dreams! Phase I : Each member will establish his own business on a firm foundation independently, and without the knowledge of any other member. 'You're Coal and Iron aren't you Bluemud?' said Grant from across the table. 'I'm Cattle and Hogs but sticking mostly to Hogs. Doing well too. Would you like a drink?' Bluemud nodded and continued reading. Phase II : Viable trading between the individual cell members will commence on a small scale, escalating as political and economic conditions permit. Grant handed him the drink. 'Yes, it seems well organized. Still, I'll be glad when it's over. Ten years is a long time. Times can change you know.' Phase III : When enough cells have been established as self-sufficient economic units and it is safe to proceed world-wide trading among members of all cells will begin. A conference will be called to establish a uniform currency. 'I'll tell you Bluemud, I'm glad to see you here, I really am. Fellow with your record can stand up to these bastards.' Phase IV : Following a public declaration of intent, the system will expand to include all remaining populations. 'Now, don't get me wrong. I've done everything I said I would and more. My wife and I, we're very content with the way things are and we'd like them to go on. I mean..., raising hogs, that's hardly a crime, is it? Even if we have got a few extra workers to help us do it. But we're getting old. We want to finish off our lives in peace. We don't want anybody rocking the boat.' Bluemud shut the book. He had that sinking feeling once again. 'What the hell are you talking about, Grant?' 'There's something going on. I came down here with Hodges and it turns out he's had a lot of contact with Sanchez. They're talking about a trading plan.' 'That's what we're here for isn't it? Second item of the Plan. We need to begin trading among ourselves.' 'Yes, Bluemud,' Grant lowered his voice and leaned across the table. 'But that's not what they're talking about!' Just then the hut door opened and Sanchez and Hodges entered with two more men. Sanchez said, still beaming, 'Let me present to you Mr. George Grabowski, Mr. Eldridge Bluemud.' Grabowski was a tall thin man with a large moustache. Bluemud had never met him before though he knew the name. He was running a collecting operation that included breaking into existing Collecting Centers and extracting significant quantities of material. It struck Bluemud as a rather dangerous enterprise though Bluemud realized there was rather more plan there than execution. The other man was William Petersen and Bluemud was really surprised to see him here. Petersen had been the wonder boy of the post-Eighth government and his specialty was growing cereal crops. He wasn't having much luck with labor however. 'Is this it?' said Bluebud to Sanchez as he closed the hut door with a furtive glance outside. As if there were anybody else within two hundred miles! 'We are ready!' Sanchez smiled a thin smile, showing golden filling. 'No one from the Southern Continent?' 'You will see, Bluemud, very soon. Please take your seat.' The meeting came to order and the cell members gave their formal reports. Most of had managed to glean some labor from the wreck of War and were geared up to produce something though in the cases of Grant, Grabbowski and Petersen their results were really rather meager, Bluemud thought, particularly in light of his own success. Hodges, however, was doing well. He had built himself somewhat of an empire on the Carolina coast. He claimed he had over six thousand workers producing textiles, paper and chemicals. Poor bastards, thought Bluemud, they'll be building him a pyramid before he goes. But after Hodges reported, Bluemud's enthusiasm had returned in full. All of the operations were ready to begin some small scale trading among themselves. That meant that goods would soon start arriving at Granite Gorge: things he desperately needed to get really moving! Finally Sanchez stood up. He brushed up his uniform, leaned on the table and smiling importantly at each of them. 'Members of STRIFE, I bring you greetings and a message from the STRIFE Supremo! Time is growing short. The Dissolution of the States was advanced ten years and the Wars have done their work. Even as we strive towards our goal of the restoration of Free Enterprise on the earth soon there will be no people left to make and use our products. Therefore we must act boldly and respond quickly to the actions of those who would destroy humanity!' Everyone banged the table with approval, including Bluemud, though he was wondering who this Supremo was that Sanchez had invoked. Probably another fellow Sanchez had shared a tent with. What did it matter really? After all, even though STRIFE had originally been Bluemud's idea he had specifically avoided the organizational aspects. It occurred to Bluemud then that once STRIFE really got going that, in the end, it would be the same old politics, probably the with the same old dictators there had always been. Human nature never changes as he suddenly found out. 'Now,' said Sanchez. 'Before we begin our discussion of how we are going to implement Phase II, I wish to inform you of a very important proposal which the Supremo has put forward. We have, that is Cell Six has, two coal fired steamships of about ten thousand tons each. These ships are well hidden, you need not worry about that. Cell Six has very little goods to trade but some of you gentlemen do.' He beamed and looked in Hodges direction. 'Also, we know of various places around the world where there are still people left. Among these are various native tribes which have always been protected by the authorities on condition that their culture stayed intact. I suggest to you gentlemen that, if we were to take some of your products to the chiefs of these tribes we could trade them for people who would work.' 'That sounds like slave trading to me,' said Bluemud. 'So what?' said Hodges, brusquely. 'Aren't your people slaves?' 'No!' Bluemud became indignant. 'They are not! They all came to me voluntarily and I make a point of paying them.' Hodges shrugged. He said, 'Anyway, it's too early to think about a plan like that. That sounds like Phase III to me. We haven't even started Phase II.' 'Cell Six will pay in gold,' said Sanchez, beaming ever more. Though the mention of gold seemed to impress the others, Bluemud was exasperated. Now he understood what Grant had meant by 'something going on' and he was determined to nip the thing in the bud! He pounded the table. 'What use is gold? I want to get the materials I need to expand my operation. You can't buy anything with gold, nothing useful anyway. I need so many things.' 'Look, Bluemud,' said Grabowski plaintively. 'We've been in this game now for fifteen years some of us. We've been content to wait but, with the Dissolution coming ten years earlier than expected we should take advantage of the situation while we can. We need more people in our system.' 'It's too risky,' roared Bluemud. 'The War is not yet even over. The Army is still out there. We'll be out in the open with no means to defend ourselves. If you need more people, breed them.' 'It takes too long,' said Hodges meanly. 'And while they're fucking they're not working.' 'If it were weapons we were trading for I wouldn't mind... ' Bluemud stopped abruptly. He was perspiring freely and suddenly out of breath. 'I mean... we need a method of defense, so close to a hostile civilization.' 'Defense is out of the question,' said Petersen. 'That was established by the charter. I thought you were the author of it, Bluemud? We're against War. We rely on secrecy. Anyway, I have information that all Army activities in Hodges' area will be entirely ended by Christmas.' 'Haven't seen a one of 'em in years as it is,' said Hodges. 'Face it Bluemud, we're all fed up with waiting. In another ten years we may all be dead. If you're so worried come down to my place on the coast and see for yourself. The ships will be well concealed and there'll be nobody to see 'em within a hundred miles.' 'The Captains will take extra care!' shrieked Sanchez. So you can suck us dry, thought Bluemud. It was clear to him that at least four of these men had previously discussed and agreed to this scheme. That they had left out Grant he could understand, but why him? They voted on the proposal and he cast the lone dissenting vote. 'I don't agree,' he said, looking scornfully at Grant, 'but I won't be the one to let you down. What do you want from me?' Thinking back on it later he saw that it had all been rehearsed. They glanced at each other nervously but they had chosen the man with the most stature to make their request. Petersen said, 'To be frank, Bluemud, Those ships have very little fuel, hardly enough to get up here from the south. They're going to need a lot more if they're going to be able to travel freely and carry out this plan. We need you to supply the coal.' 'They'll pay in gold, Bluemud,' said Hodges harshly. 'We need thirteen thousand tons on my dock by the middle of February at the latest.' 'We figure,' said Grabowski, that if you ship eight hundred tons a week for seventeen weeks...' 'I can't produce eight hundred tons a week,' said Bluemud in a daze. 'Nonsense, Bluemud! You've got eight hundred men. That's less than 300 pounds per man per day. Why even in the most underdeveloped countries in the nineteenth century...' 'But they were mechanized to some degree!' 'I believe from your report Bluemud, that you're doing better than you claim. You've had great success in your recruiting. With all those men you should have no trouble increasing your production to get us what we need!' 'And what about the railroad? It's three hundred miles from Granite Gorge to the coast. Where will I get fresh track if there's a failure?' 'Steal it!' 'Last time I did that a train was derailed. What'll the Army think if it happens again?' 'Look, Bluemud, you're either for us or against us. If you're against us then it can't be done. It's a simple as that. At least we'll know who our friends are then.' Bluemud stared at their eager, pressing faces, feeling like a hunted man. Without his coal they would be beaten from the start. He had agreed to accept the vote but must he, believing that the consequence might be disaster? Really, there was no choice. A man must have his pride and his place among whatever peers he can muster even if what they were contemplating was a slaving expedition. And, how could he complain of the risk considering the risk he and Elizabeth were taking with the Passareils? He was glad Sanchez and Hodges didn't know about that or they would probably want him to start blackmailing Passareil. Ah well! It made life interesting even if the risk was high. The thought depressed him intensely and, for the first time in a long while the prospect of real failure loomed. Up until now it had all been a game. |
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