The President leans back. “How do we do that, Stan?”
“We already have, Mr. President. Our Information Tariffs have slammed Chinese technology infrastructure like mortars blasting the Great Wall. We’ve eliminated their access to the internet and stopped their copycat technologies, which rely heavily on American-made innovations—artificial intelligence, mobile operating systems, and computer software designed here in the States. A weakened enemy will use less power, and the reduced demand translates to lower fuel prices. We must double down and expand the tariffs.”
“I don’t disagree with you,” the President says. “We’ve increased our hydrocarbon supplies while dampening worldwide demand, but we need more. What else can we do to improve our strategy?”
Gareth Allen raises a hand. “Mr. President, I would like to introduce someone who has the answers. I’ve invited Manos Kharon, CEO of GoldRock, to provide some solutions for us, sir. He was instrumental in designing and implementing the Information Tariffs.”
Heads turn to Manos, who sits in the corner staring at stock charts through his smartglasses. A wave of panic overcomes him as his heart beats madly in his chest. A deafening silence fills the room.
Breathe.
He fumbles his notes and slouches, trying to remember his speech. His mind goes blank. Flustered, he beams the image on his display onto the opposing wall. People look to the projection and chatter arises in the room.
Get it together. Calm down.
The figure is a chart of oil prices from 2040. It shows a sharp spike in 2042 and steady increases every year to the present day.
Manos falters. “…thank you, Gareth. It’s an honor for me to be here…” He coughs and breathes rapidly. “…I’m showing you the price of oil over the last few decades.” He buys time to gather himself. “What do you notice about this chart?”
“It has skyrocketed,” the President says, “and it’s hurting our economy.”
Manos settles down. “Exactly, Mr. President. If you look closely, you will see that energy prices accelerated higher in 2042, precisely the year that global energy supplies hit their peak. In fact, 2042 was the year of Peak Oil—”
“That’s just a theory,” the Defense Secretary says. “There is no evidence to support that claim.”
Manos beams another image on the wall. “Respectfully, sir, it’s more than a theory. Take a look at this chart of our oil reserves—you can see that the supply has declined every year since 2042.”
“You’re mistaken. Do you know what else happened in 2042? That’s when the War began. You can blame all of this on our enemies.”
Manos projects another picture. “Here’s a plot showing the quality of the fuel we process today. You can see that it’s getting harder to draw high-quality fossil fuels from the ground. We have to pump more to extract the same content as previous years.”
“This is interesting,” the President says, “but we need solutions.”
Manos calms as his pulse returns to normal. “Absolutely, sir. We need revolutionary technologies that will synergize with the war strategies and drive the price of oil down.” He flips to a title slide. “I’m here to introduce America 2070, a vision for the future and a new approach to tackle this crisis.”
Gareth turns and winks at Manos, saluting him with a thumbs-up.
Manos scans the room. “First, we need to drastically cut energy demand, which must go back to pre-2042 levels. I propose new rations to lower national power usage. We must reduce train and motor vehicle services and encourage citizens to walk and ride bicycles. We must slash household consumption and eliminate manufacturing that is not essential for the War.
“I also propose a two-tiered fuel system. We should reserve high-grade gasoline for the military and other defense needs. Regular citizens can use low-grade petrol, which does not require extensive processing. This will translate to more efficient operations.”
“I like what I’m hearing,” the President says, “but you’re lacking innovation. We need out-of-the-box thinking.”
Manos displays a photograph of a pine forest. “You’re right, Mr. President. We need a bold solution, a major shock that will disrupt markets and bring oil prices down fast. I’m showing you Tongass National Reserve in Alaska. At 17 million acres, it’s the largest wilderness in the country.”
Heads turn and the cabinet members steal glances at one another.
Manos continues. “The third part of my plan is to extract fuel directly from the trees. One of GoldRock’s companies, Gravitas, has patented a method to transform bark into gas. A single pine will power a missile to destroy a target five hundred miles away. I propose that the government subsidizes Gravitas to harvest the hydrocarbons locked away in Alaska.”
The room erupts in conversation.
The Commerce Secretary shouts above the noise. “You want to destroy America’s last wild refuge?”
Manos waves his hands. “That’s not correct, sir. We will not damage the Reserve. This one-time collection significantly increases our energy supply. The trees will grow back in a couple of decades.”
The Defense Secretary pounds the table. “I like it! It’s a sacrifice worth making for the War.”
“This is ridiculous,” the Commerce Secretary shouts. “It’s a scheme to make GoldRock rich!”
Manos defends himself. “We support companies with cutting-edge technology capable of disrupting industries. Gravitas is a true innovator—”
“What kind of subsidies are we talking about?” the President asks.
Manos clears his throat. “For $200B, we can harvest the entire forest.”
“And how much fuel will you extract?”
“About $1 trillion worth, enough to lower prices by 5-10%.”
The room grows silent.
“I like it,” the President says. “This is a bold plan. If you can cut oil prices by ten percent, you have the job.”
“Thank you, sir, you won’t be disappointed.”
A staffer walks into the room and whispers in the President’s ear. He turns and speaks to his Defense Secretary for a few minutes. Tension builds.
Gareth gives a thumbs-up and mouths Great job! Manos winks and returns a thank you.
“We have a problem,” the President announces. “The Chinese just launched a wave of cyberattacks. Looks like they’re retaliating against the Information Tariffs. All hands on deck. We’ve got a major situation ahead of us.”
14.
AUSTIN EXITS the Hyperloop at Hayward station. He unbuttons his collar in the 120ºF heat as thermal waves lift off the cracked pavement. Stepping over an emaciated rat chewing on a plastic bag, he passes an encampment with beggars panhandling for change.
Last time I was in East Bay, Matthew was alive.
Cameras anchored to street signs follow Austin as he heads to the entrance of the BART, a decades-old transit system that still operates in the inland valley. A woman wearing a VR headset barges into him. “Watch where you’re running!” she shouts.
Austin faces her. “You ran into me!”
“Don’t be an asshole.” She flips him off and runs down the street.
What is wrong with these people?
Austin enters the metro gate and heads downstairs to the outbound platform. “Isaac, how will I find Beth in Livermore? It’s an awfully large town.”
“Would you like me to call her?”
“Sure.”
As he descends into the underground station, the air grows hot and muggy. He reaches the terminal and grows woozy in the searing heat. Young panhandlers stuff their hands in his face begging for money.