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Left Beyond Quest II - Thread 2 (Settling In)

When it comes time for the Foreman to plan out CATS’ operation for the first month, he decides to install a Cellular-Solar pylon in Mexico and gets his hands on one BN and a stack of network equipment, which his accountant quickly formulates a plan for. He also endeavors to recruit three work teams. Recruiting people is difficult because the Foreman only wants the best—a work team is intended to handle all the small details, from logistics to finding subcontractors to occasionally greasing the palms of local grandees. This makes the interviewing process time consuming. Those who don't quite make the cut for a work team are told to not call back or occasionally kept around as subcontractors, low-level employees, and so on. Onboarding only takes a couple of weeks for highly motivated people, so a work team can begin almost immediately.

The Foreman sends the majority of his people to find and recruit suitable candidates for his agency and conducts the interviews himself.

He ends up talking to a carousel of people from all walks of life: electricians, engineers, small business owners who genuinely believe in Carpatescu's plan for a unified world and want to sign up on it. With very few exceptions, all have lost someone in the Rapture and the brief period of anarchy that followed it. He is heartened by those who want the job because they have a child on the way—humanity is nothing but resilient.

His newest group of recruits is eclectic, but ends up featuring a solid core of tradespeople: plumbers, electricians, solar panel installers.

After handling recruitment, the Foreman heads to Mexico to deal with the Cellular-Solar pylon, and the trip is pretty successful! He looks on as tiendas and street vendors put up signs indicating that they just got a shipment of cheap, subsidized cell phones; on the nearby hill, there's a shiny new cell phone tower topped by solar panels. People are being instructed on how to use the simple e-payment system that comes with them, although he doesn’t expect wide adoption for that any time soon. He stays a couple of extra days, just to take in the sights, and finds that people take to texting very quickly, using it to arrange dates and schedule handyman work.

The reason why he was taking in the sights for a couple of extra days, however, was that he was in the desert that used to straddle Mexico and the US to learn a few things about survival in harsh environments.

He heads back north by truck, making a few stops at some villages and ruins in the most arid parts of North America. He learns a few things about how to make buildings last a few centuries in earthquake zones and not need too much in the way of climate control—build squat, make walls thick, and use local material whenever possible. He writes an abstract for a paper about it, has one of his underlings write the actual paper, and gets it published in an architecture journal. If anyone ever questions why he’s building bunkers, he can point them to structural reasons that have nothing to do with the perception of military preparations, should he ever need it.

On the way home, he also comes across a few people experimenting with modernized dew collectors, and he spends the remainder of the petty cash for the trip on buying one of the prototypes. It doesn't work very well, but as a proof of concept, it does give about a pint of water per day if it's deployed properly.

For the second month, back at base, the Foreman begins planning out CATS' operation again. In addition to the previously acquired work team, he decides to pursue recruitment, primarily.

As his recruitment effort continues, he finds that his organization is still small enough that he can afford to conduct the final interview himself. The Nomenklator headpiece has arrived, only a week or so late; it hides nicely above his ear, as long as he combs his hair a certain way. He quickly rejects a proposal for a model with servo-controlled cat ears. A few people comment that his uncanny ability to remember personal details and the like is very reminiscent of Mr. Carpatescu.

The casting call this time went preferentially to people with as few attachments as possible so that they may travel without worries.

Pickings are fairly slim this month: the Global Community is quasi-nationalizing a lot of markets (to be specific, Carpatescu is going with a hybrid guilds system, much like Mussolini did seventy years ago, although of course he's not referring to the Italian dictator) and the Foreman’s hiring practices have been imitated. The Nomenklator system proves itself of some use in giving the boot to a couple of candidates that demonstrably lied on their resumes.

The Foreman isn’t very happy with this round of recruiting, truth be told, but he puts together a workgroup that should be able to handle things.

On an interesting note, as part of his routine work, when the Foreman asks if Mr. Folgore is available after hours for security, he is told that Folgore has been reassigned to Bulgaria.

Setting that aside, the Foreman figures that it's a good time to start launching microsatellites! The first prototype is made out of, ironically enough, cell phone guts. It has the capabilities of a 1960s-era orbital relay node, but it's immensely cheaper.

Since it's a prototype, surplus equipment is made available; the launch will happen at the end of next month.

The Foreman elects to launch from Wallops Field, Virginia, where the surplus Soviet-era ICBM that has been adapted into small-payload orbital rockets is being moved to.

Meanwhile, the Foreman gives some thought to the situation in Russia. Russia before the Event was well on the way to becoming a failed state—arguably, the Rapture reenergized the Russian people out of despondency, if anything.

The current subpotentate is Dr. Prokhor Saratov, who allegedly narrowly beat a former NKVD agent by the name of Vlad Putin to the post after the latter threatened Carpatescu in some unspecified manner. Saratov has an illustrious career in academic administration behind him and actively lobbied to have the Foreman’s HQ in the Foreman’s territory. Even though this was vetoed by the big boss himself, he has noted that should the Foreman prove to be sufficiently competent, he will be happy to help . . . as well as get the Foreman kicked out of his own organization should he not do a sufficiently impressive job. Saratov has embraced the Global Community specifically because he believes that Russian national identity can and will thrive in a technocracy.

The Foreman knows him to be a fair but stern man, and actually has read some of his books on the philosophy of science; one quote springs to mind.

"There are two kinds of scientific progress: the methodical experimentation and categorization which gradually extend the boundaries of knowledge, and the revolutionary leap of genius which redefines and transcends those boundaries. Acknowledging our debt to the former, we yearn, nonetheless, for the latter."

In the monthly planning, the Foreman also decided on launching a satellite, but launching a new type of satellite is never easy; doing so in two months doubly so. He decides to trust that the people in his workgroups have done good work and, since this is the first space launch after the Event, takes the opportunity to make a bit of a celebration about it. Space hasn't been in the news much this decade, but someone might care.

For the third month of the quarter, the Foreman is faced with more decisions regarding CATS’ operation.

At the end of the month, a satellite launch will take place in Wallops Field, and he will be summoned by Nicolae Carpatescu, Global Community Leader, for his very first performance evaluation.

For now, he chooses to risk himself on covert action in Bulgaria, where Folgore is. If they can get him as a Trusted Agent, then that would let the Foreman’s team survey for free, and they seem to be in a good position to recruit him.

He decides furthermore set one team to build network equipment, and another to install a Cellular-Solar pylon in Bulgaria, which will provide cover for their covert recruitment of Folgore. Thanks to his recruitment efforts, the Foreman has more workgroups than cash on hand; the idle workgroups will bring themselves up to speed on current system, monitor research, and rest while they can.

A low-bandwidth data channel on landlines would be useful for coordination. His guys quickly put together a protocol for it—it can piggyback on existing analog switches, and future digital switches can be designed so that they will be compatible with it.

He’ll have to put a workgroup on it, after which it will go in his bag of backup options, but he can’t afford it right now.

While the Foreman decides how to allocate his growing workforce and shrinking budget, one of the people who just got hired with the last workgroup comes to him with a set of blueprints for a new type of vehicle that can be used for construction in remote areas. Due to its unusual form of locomotion and the fact that he has specced an armed variant for it, he keeps calling it a Spider Tank.

The Foreman is intrigued, but he doesn’t have the money for it right now.

The Foreman is left with some funds and three workgroups to do things with. "Idle" teams aren't spinning their wheels; at this stage, they're working on making sure existing infrastructure can talk across systems.

Eventually, the parts for the new Cellular-Solar pylon arrive! Bulgaria is a lot cleaner than the Foreman expected; after the Event, Carpatescu took personal administration of the country, and made a point of cleaning it all up, just to prove that he harbored no ill will towards the Romanians' historical rival.

The Foreman arrives in Plovdiv (according to local lore, the oldest continuously inhabited city in Europe) to find the streets clean, the traffic surprisingly orderly, and the general impression of the place that of lean health. He sees a home decorated with professionally made murals: they denote the birth of a precious baby, one of the first after the Event. It looks like the place is on the upswing.

The Cellular-Solar pylon he set up is just outside of town, and he has it configured for use with data, or the Internet, during a small ribbon-cutting shindig that the local mayor insists on throwing. The people here were mostly Eastern Orthodox, or atheistic following Communism; they adapted to the ecumenical faith quickly, not really caring one way or the other. Carpatescu has been unexpectedly good to these people, and they're clearly grateful.

As soon as the tower is switched on, the Nomenklator in the Foreman’s ear starts giving him trivia about the local area.

He takes a bit of time to prepare for his meeting with Carpatescu, and once the Nomenklator is back up, his local team starts looking around for Mr. Bruno Folgore

The Foreman finds that he is currently in a Global Community training camp, which has been repurposed from an MCPO training facility on the coast.

In the meantime, he hears from Wallops: the first microsats are ready to be launched! By the look of it, all should be well, barring last-minute stupidity . . .

Cell phone usage in Europe is higher than in America, largely because the landlines in Europe were worse and there was more of a push to adopt early. People are fairly surprised at the new system (free unlimited texting and all they have to do is set up an e-mail address? Neat!) and, perhaps more importantly, the Foreman has something to show off for the meeting with the big boss.

He boards a business jet to get to the brand-new, opulent city of New Babylon. Of note is the Burj Babil, the world's tallest structure, which has just been completed. To his surprise, it's not Carpatescu's seat of government; instead, the building has been zoned as a hotel and exhibition space, sort of a hybrid between a luxury mall and a permanent mini World's Fair. His meeting with Carpatescu happens in a nondescript office tower. Earl Halliday escorts the Foreman in, which is unusual; on the way, he learns that the man is not only a pilot but also an aircraft designer. While flying over the eastern Mediterranean, the Foreman mentions putting money toward a nuclear power plant to one of his aides as he gets ready for the big meeting, and they start discussing it, when all of a sudden the person who's running the other end of the Nomenklator pipes up unbidden.

"Ixnay on the uclearnay when in New Babylon, boss. It's doable, just don't bring it up. Their security guys get really twitchy about it for some reason."

For now, the Foreman figures that the easiest thing to do is to have his workgroups find network equipment.

He’s surprised to see Carpatescu's office: he may have expected opulence, gold fixtures, anything like that, but instead the place has a high-tech starkness that makes him mildly envious. The computer screen integrated into the desk is definitely a nice touch.

"... projections indicate a favorability rating of 68.71% in ten years. End of line." The computer voice is rich and deep.

Carpatescu doesn't stand up to greet the Foreman, of course. Instead, he sighs after receiving the report. "We'll see where we are in ten years. Ah, Foreman, welcome. Computers sure are getting better every year, aren't they? I see that you've begun your work on schedule and within budget. I was expecting more rapid progress in terms of our satellite coverage. I want to be able to watch GNN in the middle of a flight to Pretoria, you understand?"

He seems mildly unhappy.

Carpatescu goes on for a little about not wanting to waste his honeymoon with the people of the world. "What I have essentially done, Foreman, is run for mayor of the world. People wouldn't call a president or a prime minister to get the potholes in their city fixed, but they would call the mayor—and I must deliver. Hence my interest in global integration. We must become united in body and in spirit, and your job is one of the most important: one vision, one purpose. And you must deliver that vision to every home. Do you understand?"

The Foreman points out the microsatellites and the data installation as an example of what he’s been able to do in just three months.

"Good! You've a commitment for quality, Foreman. I appreciate that. But quantity has a quality all of its own, don't you think?"

The Foreman nods, and adds that money saved can be time wasted. Carpatescu brightens up considerably.

"Ah, spoken like a wise man. And from the mouth of one so young! You are quite correct, Foreman. In many ways, time is our most precious resource—after all, money can be made or lost, but time can only be spent, yes? A famous writer once said that he who controls the present commands the future, and he who commands the future conquers the past. I don't quite agree: the past is, and ever shall remain, a foreign country . . . but it is of the future that I want you to think. I have undertaken the duty of using—yes, using—a tragedy, a global tragedy, to usher in peace. But we must keep it! And the only way to keep it, to keep peace, is through power. I intend to keep the use of crass, hard power to a minimum, but soft power . . . it's a different story, isn't it?"

The Foreman nods again.

"Control the media, control the mind. Tell me, what do you know of Cameron Williams?"

“Not a lot."

"My press secretary, Cameron Kirk Williams, is"—Carpatescu chuckles—"a member of the Christian Remnant. I don't mind, right now: I welcome the accountability, and in fact, it may help dispel the silly rumors that I am . . . heh . . . the Antichrist. Of course, he's been all secretive and mysterious about it. Now, I have hired you to develop and deploy the technology of peace, not run a propaganda operation, therefore, I want you to know that I am specifically not asking you to put any sort of wiretap on the man. Are we understood?"

The Foreman isn’t sure whether this is a hint or not.

"At any rate, you've impressed me. You aren't short sighted, you get things done, and you understand priorities. I want you to repeat to me what your mandate is. Don't worry, tell me the truth."

He hands the Foreman a memo indicating that his budget has increased to 24.

The Foreman recites his current mandate, to provide global satellite coverage.

"Good enough for me. Don't let me detain you, Foreman. I'm sure you're an extremely busy human being. Only . . . I've a few moments for you. Do you have any one question?"

The Foreman considers for a moment, then asks, “What's your truth, your mandate, sir? What do you want for humanity, once everything is stable here? Once things are under control?”

"My truth, you ask? Truth is relative, of course . . . But consider. The last man who wanted to create an empire to last a thousand years sunk the world into madness and blood. I harbor no such ambitions, I assure you. Mine will not be an empire, it will be a brotherhood, the brotherhood of man. We shall forge a stronger people. A divined people, enhanced for the world of tomorrow. The time has come to claim the universe as our own! The time has come to destroy our false idol and hopes and embrace the totality of the universe! One vision. One purpose! More than human! The next step in our evolution as a species!"

The man's voice booms, and the Foreman gets the impression that everyone in the building heard him. He clears his throat.

"Now go, Foreman. Do your job well, and the rewards will be many."

Later, the Foreman’s tries to see if the Nomenklator recorded the speech—that was actually pretty decent!

"What speech, Boss? We heard Potentate Carpatescu raise our budget and mention that Mr. Williams is a religious holdout, but that's it."

Huh, strange . . .

Checking the news shows that if anything, it's the nationalists that have been making noise. Apparently, the African subpotentate has been having issues with a rival. Nothing the Foreman needs to worry about yet, but if he goes there himself, he might want an armed guard.

In the next quarter of the year, the Foreman settles down to plan out CATS’ operation for the first month.

The Ghilotti Brothers left a message while he was in New Babylon: they thank him for the loan, and would like to know if he would prefer to have his money back or retain the services of the rapid demolition team. He opts to retain them.

So far, he’s surveyed Mexico, finding a startup researching dew collectors, and Bulgaria, finding a grateful-to-Carpatescu populace and a former MCPO training camp that has been handed over for advanced Global Community security training instead of being wound down like most of the world's military assets.

On his recent trip, he also found out that Carpatescu's voice didn't go through his Nomenklator's microphone, at least in one instance (or was it jammed?) and that the leader’s security people are apparently extremely twitchy when nuclear power is mentioned. Given that the Rapture's official explanation was "radiation from decades of nuclear testing" and one of Carpatescu's first policies was complete denuclearization, this may be understandable . . .

 Under the circumstances, the Foreman decides to set two crews to building aerospace parts, two crews to more recruiting, and one crew to build the pylon in Mexico.

In the meantime, he heads to Canada on a fact-finding trip, and works to help the crew that’s recruiting. He settles in for yet another round of interviews. His people have worked together for a season, now: he’s beginning to identify trends among people who join CATS.

He may be getting better at finding prospective recruits, and chooses to focus on diversity, wanting to find it easy to have at least one person in a work crew speaking any major language. As a result, while there are a few language issues within his workforce, he expects that the ability to have at least one native of whatever former country his workgroups travel to will help with local relations; Carpathia's globalist push, while idealistic, counted too much on his exceptional charisma as a public speaker, which some believed to be supernatural. As a mere mortal himself, the Foreman had to get backup plans in place.

Carpatescu's globalist push is well and good for a politician, but the Foreman is the arbiter of what will get results, and he has to work with this generation, not the next.

He receives the first grainy, pixelated digital video from Mexico as his workers there construct additional pylons to follow the first, improving the cellular infrastructure of the former country to the point that it starts to match up with that of its former northern neighbor.

Before month's end, the Foreman has another batch of microsatellites ready for launch. Each launch vehicle scatters a handful of them in slightly different orbits, to improve redundancy, by the simple expedient of allowing a "satelloon" to inflate in the middle of the cluster and push the active microsats away. A few of the idle crew take the time to go outside at night with microwave antenna and bounce signals off the satelloons; the bandwidth is terrible, but the Foreman should be able to use them to send Morse code or simple teletype-style messages in case his active satellites were to somehow all die off.

The trip to Canada was relatively uneventful; he visited Sudbury, where a neutrino observatory has been built in a depleted coal mine. Neutrino-based communication has long been a pipe dream, and they'd like to talk.

The detector looks like a beryllium sphere from a Star Trek knockoff, but the reams of data shown make it easy to tell even for the uninitiated that this is the real thing.

Neutrino, contrary to popular misconception, don't travel faster than light: they simply interact with matter a lot less than photons do, therefore travel away from the event that created them slightly faster than the average photon. Such was the case, for example, in 1987 when a neutrino burst preceded the observation of a supernova 185,000 light years away by a few hours.

The person who's giving the tour, Dr. Robertson, is clearly passionate about his job.

". . . so by milliseconds to hours, we get the scoop on essentially any major anomalous event, such as a solar flare or a supernova. This lets us warn conventional optical and radio telescopes as to where they should aim their reflectors. We're hoping to be able to confirm or disprove the existence of gravity waves someday! We've even teamed up with the Super Proton Synchrotron group at CERN to send messages THROUGH the Earth!"

"Sounds interesting,” the Foreman notes, although this is somewhat academic for him.

"The only major thing we couldn't see," Dr. Robertson continues, "was, well, the Event. That registered on absolutely nothing, no sensors, no interferometry, nothing. The only correlation we found with, well, anything, was a slight drop in ambient radiation. Unfortunately, some . . . idiot leaked that out to Global Weekly, and thus we got the cockamamie 'radiation did it' story."

The Foreman is familiar with that.

"All we could confirm is that the missing people were gone: a Russian team used our computers and gravitometers to cross-correlate the orbital variation in Molniya satellites near perigee to indicate that some mass disappeared from Earth."

"How do you mean, Doctor?"

"Whatever hit us also took away some nuclear material, or else altered nuclear decay rates. The neutrino detector is very susceptible to noise, so we have to subtract noise from ambient radiation to do our measurements, hence why we are at the bottom of a coal mine, which is how we know."

“Does that mean nuclear bombs and plants no longer work, or work differently?” the Foreman asked.

His Nomenklator isn't active inside the neutrino observatory, simply because he’s a couple miles below ground in an installation designed to block as much radio interference as possible, so an instant cost estimate is not available to him.

"I'd love to know! One of Carpatescu's first actions was to mothball all nuclear power plants. With the drop in population, they weren't necessary, and a few of them had gone into emergency mode due to personnel disappearing. Nobody wants another Chernobyl or Three Mile Island or worse. I supported it at the time, not that anyone asked. But to my knowledge, none have been reopened. I don't know what they did with the military power plants like submarines or carriers, but it's getting to the point where it's hard to procure specialized isotopes for research. I suppose we can be happy that nuclear war isn't a danger anymore, since Carpatescu had all the warheads dismantled, so there's that. You're young, you probably don't remember what it was like to live under the specter of mutually assured destruction . . ."

“Interesting,” the Foreman acknowledges. “Would you be interested in working with us? We'd divert some funding to your research group in return for keeping you on retainer. Also, can we hire some of your grad students for a month to do a radiometric survey? We might want to do some uranium mining further north.”

"Well . . . that would be excellent!"

The Foreman and Dr. Robertson work out the conditions, and the Foreman uses a wall phone to confirm with his accounting department.

Time passes, and it’s once again time for the Foreman to plan out CATS’ operation for the second month of the quarter.

There were some details to consider. He had already promised to deploy one work crew to perform a radiometry survey across Canada, so that's tied for the month. Dr. Robertson is a competent physicist, but more than that, he has decades of experiences in lab management: deploying him on a research project will simplify matters considerably, especially if the research project is within his area of expertise. Furthermore, the rumor mill has it that Carpatescu is going to be able to sign the deal bringing Israel into the Global Community soon; this would open the sale of the Eden fertilizer and, according to press releases, complete the elimination of world hunger.

The Foreman eventually figures it would be best to buy some aerospace parts, dedicate two teams to recruiting, one team to researching satellites, and two teams to launch satellites. He asks Dr. Robertson to supervise his research teams instead of doing it himself. Since it's Dr. Robertson’s job, he will do a better job of that than the Foreman would.

Exploring his options, the Foreman asks, “Can we use your contacts to recruit a dedicated research work team?”

"i'm keeping my best students with me, Foreman, unless we find something really interesting together. In which case, I get first authorship on all the publications, and you get the economic returns. If you want to just give me a team, we can certainly do that, but then I'll be too busy managing them to go on field trips! Fair enough?"

“Sounds good.”

Dr. Robertson will be removed from the roster in exchange for extra research. He will report to the Foreman in case of anything extraordinary, but the Foreman won't be able to tell him what to do.

Later in the month, the team the Foreman sent to Canada meets up with a number of nuclear engineering and geology students and provides the Foreman with a map of Canada’s uranium mines. All of them have been shut down, but he identifies one that can be reopened with relative ease, largely due to its remote location. Funny enough, it's called the Eldorado Mine. It's in the Northwest Territories and has been prospected for radium, uranium, and silver—it was used to extract material for the original Manhattan Project nukes and was kept open until the early 1960s, after which it was declared exhausted. Since these prospectors had better gear, they were able to find another vein. The silver isn't very interesting at current market prices, sadly, although it might have industrial uses.

The Foreman decides to keep it under wraps for now; if he reopens the mine, he will do so covertly.

The survey team duly sends a report to the subpotentate indicating that even without the moratorium on nuclear power, it would be uneconomical to reopen the mine, making a big deal about the fact that even the silver would be irradiated so consumers wouldn't want to buy it. This little bit of paperwork manipulation is about as effective as burying the mine under fifty feet of gravel, really. The site is remote enough that, should the Foreman ever wish to build a hole in the frozen ground, he will be able to operate it without legal issues; technical issues are another matter.

Furthermore, even a little understaffed, Dr. Robertson gives excellent results: the Mk2 microsatellites feature better bandwidth and, perhaps most interestingly, a low-resolution camera. The team won't be able to read the license plate off a vehicle any time soon, of course, but they can spot a small brush fire before it gets big, or the beginning of the formation of a hurricane.

Unfortunately, the recruiting efforts aren't going very well this time around—the department is competing with a resurgent private sector for personnel. The Foreman determines it would be best to recruit a few people fresh out of college; they'll underperform on their first month, because they have to switch gears mentally.

Purchasing the parts goes without a hitch; preparing the launch, however, falls into some difficulty. The various launch sites get into a bidding war, which would ordinarily be good since the Foreman could reverse-auction the launch, but then the Vanderberg folks get the bright idea of going over his head and taking their bid directly to Mr. Dimmsdale, who calls the Foreman out of the blue and demands that he take that bid.

The Foreman accepts the mandate, taking care of making it look like Dimmsdale is dealing with an equal, knowing he’ll have to take time to pander to the small-scale media circus that will follow since local grandees will want to look good.

The launch will happen on schedule either way, but it'll be a bit of a pain in the neck.

The recruiting efforts go a little better afterward; the Foreman manages to build a workgroup with some young blood in it. It will take a little bit for them to operate at full speed, but he figures that with his direct supervision, all will be well.

Overall, a productive month. The Foreman has been hearing that a deal between Carpatescu's administration and the Israeli government is near; he’s also seen on GNN that the "two witnesses" who have been preaching apocalyptic doom-mongering at the Wailing Wall have been attacked by a group of Ultra-Orthodox citizens, specifically three older men. Strangely, the old men had heart attacks after a brief shouting match. Clearing the crowd proved difficult and they died before a Merkava-armored ambulance could make it to the scene.

In the third month of the quarter, the Foreman concerns himself with planning out operations once again. At the end of the month, there will be another satellite launch and another meeting with Carpatescu. He will be busy with hopefully signing the treaty with Israel, and the Foreman offers to have the meeting by telepresence, to show off the satellite comms system.

The satellite preparations go as well as they can, given that there's a gaggle of local grandees following the work and engaging in liberal amounts of gratuitous photo ops (which mostly go ignored: space hasn't been big news since the Challenger disaster, and most people are just betting whether the Mir space station will come down or not).

Dr. Robertson takes a bit of time from his work on physics, which has received a significant boost from the Foreman’s cash injection, to help the aerospace engineers do their work. This time around, they focus on software upgrades for the satellites already up there; incremental improvements aren't much to write home about, but they are important.

Most of the rest of the workforce is busy preparing satellite launches for the next month, to the point that the Foreman has to track down David Hassid for setting up a telepresence link with Carpatescu. He seems mildly amused by the innovation.

He notes that a meeting with the Foreman will be brief and gives leeway on the schedule, so the Foreman elects to contact him earlier.

In the telemeeting, Carpatescu is getting two pixelated streams, one featuring the Foreman’s youthful but reasonably dignified face, one featuring the Vandemberg launch complex.

"Momentous things are about to happen, Foreman. The world will finally be united. I have little time to dedicate to you, but I'm glad to see your efforts continue apace."

The Foreman’s accounting department notifies him that they just got a secure email from Carpatescu indicating that the budget will likely remain the same, at 24 (1 is dedicated to retain Dr. Robertson's services).

The Foreman plays up the fact that he is almost done with the first mandate and asks what the next goal should be for the prosperity of their new nation.

"You're making me a promise, Foreman? Very well, I appreciate your commitment, but I will hold you to it. I do have a new mandate for you. With the treaty, the entire world will share in the bounty of the Eden fertilizer. At that point, in order to eradicate hunger in the world, we will need to know where to bring the bounty we will have. Ensure that the poorest African farmer can arrange to sell their wares in Luxembourg or Australia!"

The Foreman takes note of the new mandate: Either make sure every territory has Internet, or that every territory has cell phone service.

The Foreman nods and wishes him luck with the final negotiations.

"You needn't wish me luck. Luck is a crutch for those who cannot plan. Like faith. But I appreciate the sentiment."

It’s an interesting point. The Foreman switches gears and asks if Carpatescu can assist them by providing a new labor team to handle some of the work.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream to interfere in your hiring decisions. You have operated well in autonomy. Or do you wish for me to take a closer interest in the workings of the organization you head?"

“Actually, it's not the need for more involvement. in the specific case of Africa, there's a need for security teams for the main work teams. I'd otherwise need to waste an extra month looking for security teams before I can take care of on-the-ground construction of the networks you requested when it could be done in just one if the security team was provided.”

"Hmm. You make a good point. I'll assign a team of Global Community Peacekeepers to guard your workers for the next month."

The Foreman internally cheers. Free security team for the next month! Probably best if they don't see anything uncouth though . . . The next question to spring to mind is about that one religious minister, whose name is escaping the Foreman at the moment. He asks about how the minister is doing, though.

"Rev. Bruce? He's doing well, I'd imagine. Last I heard he was, heh, secretly building a bunker under his church, just enough for a half dozen people. I assume that the rest of his congregation is very happy about that." Carpatescu smiles wryly.

The Foreman’s Nomenklator informs him that Reverend Barney Bruce is the pastor of the Remnant church that William Cameron attends. Interestingly, his sysadmins are messing around with voice synthesis: the information comes to him via a vocoder that manages not to sound half bad.

Huh, interesting. David Hassid apparently had a fair amount of laptops with satellite video links made, but about ten percent—a dozen?—seem to have gone missing. Did someone sell them on the side, or were they swiped? Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, since their hard drive just had a copy of the OS on them, but still.

Finally, the Foreman asks if he can appropriate one Folgore into his forces. Not mentioned in the inquiry is that he was involved in a previous security breach and has transferred into Special Forces. If he's a mole, they can keep an eye on him. If not, he's a valuable resource. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. It would be best if he was somehow . . . assigned to CATS, instead of them directly head hunting him.

LBQ2-3