The Farm

Perfect World story (The NOW)

LaShamra Johnson, 25, stands at the front of a very long line of which, an hour ago, she was in the back. Cranky and complaining at her feet are Clifford, nine and Tamyra, seven.

"Hush now! We're next. Don't you be makin' no fuss when we get there or I'll smack you upside yo' head." There was no power in her voice; she was tired at 11 am from the long walk and the longer wait.

"Next!" shouts Gladys, the bored window clerk.

LaShamra shuffles her children over to the window. Gladys asks from behind the welded metal screen, "Claim form?" LaShamra produces a document and pushes it through the slit. Gladys scans it and says, "There's no verification code or authenticating signature."

"I... I thought you were doing that!" LaShamra hates what is going to happen next but is powerless to prevent it.

"Uh-uh. I give you a routing number and send you to the correct cashier. I can't do nothin' without a verification code or a authenticating signature. You need to get to line 17 Alpha in Green Sector and line 3 Charlie 16 at the Process building. Out the back, two rights, go straight at the gate."

"I took all your aptitude tests! I waited in line for an hour! I got my little kids with me!"

Now Gladys looks a little cross and repeats, slowly, "Out the back, two rights, go straight at the gate. Next!"

Dejected, LaShamra pulls her kids behind her and exits the building out the back, takes two rights and goes straight at the gate, which dumps her at the back of another very long line. Eventually the clerk sees her, looks at the form and says, "This line is for authenticating signatures only. You need to get a verification code at Line 17 Alpha in Green Sector, then come back here, then go see Gladys in central processing to get a routing number. THEN you can go to the correct cashier and get your check."

LaShamra sighs and checks the clock. 1:30. There won't be time to do that today. She collects her hungry, complaining children and sits on the curb. She splits the ketchup sandwich from her packpack in two parts and gives one to each child, then watches hungrily as they gobble it down, knowing that she'd now be eating at the Dumpster Inn on the way home, hopefully something not too disgusting.

"You look hungry, ma'am... would you and the young 'uns care to join me over there at the KFC? I hear they make a pretty good fried chicken."

She turns to face the offer. LaShamra was still attractive despite her hard life, but wasn't usually propositioned in broad daylight with her kids sitting next to her. She was surprised to see a handsome dark-haired older man wearing a cowboy hat and jeans gazing at her through crystal blue eyes in a most kindly way. Nonetheless, she knows where this will inevitably lead and responds, "Run along now. There are plenty of street girls right there in the alley."

"True, ma'am, but none of them have hungry kids eating ketchup sandwiches. You do." He smiles respectfully and says, "I've eaten my share, and salt soup as well in my day, and I reckon the kids could do with a little protein. My treat. No strings attached."

She wonders what the man is up to. He seemingly reads her mind and says, "I wouldn't mind a little conversation while I eat... okay?"

A long moment goes by and then she agrees, begrudgingly. He smiles broadly and helps them to their feet. "Good, good! Howdy, kids! My name's Jake. What will it be-- regular or extra crispy?"

Jake orders a large bucket of extra crispy and a dozen steaming biscuits as per the children's excited hollerings and watches in amazement as they attack each piece, not giving up until only bare bones and cardboard remains. LaShamra chides them momentarily before digging in herself. Nobody speaks for awhile as the bucket empties. Finally the last piece disappears.

"Man, that's good eatin'!" Jake drawls, loosening his belt. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your names...?"

"Oh. I'm LaShamra, and these are my kids Cliff and Tamyra."

"Pleased." He shook each of their hands, ignoring the grease; he had grease of his own. "LaShamra, I'm guessing you're out of work since I saw you coming out of the Welfare office, am I right? Well, I think I might have something for you."

"I don't know, Mister Jake. I mean, the meal is greatly appreciated, but I don't hardly know you at all, and I can't afford to mess with my Welfare status, you know what I mean?"

"I do indeed. If you'll hear me out, maybe I can change your mind. You live alone, just the three of you? Do the kids go to school?"

"I homeschool them-- I can't let them out on the streets alone in my neighborhood. I ain't got no husband."

"Oh. Well, that might be a problem then. See, the job I had in mind for you comes with its own quarters-- a three bedroom condo on the property-- so you'd have to move. Also, there's a school on the premises, so you wouldn't be able to homeschool anymore."

The children cheer. She raised a hand. "Hush you two, or I'll box your ears."

Jake winces. "I remember that, too," he says, fingering his ears gingerly. The children giggle and he continues. "You could start immediately."

"What do I have to do? And what does it pay?"

"Nothing!" Jake says cheerfully.

"Nothing? Nothing for the first thing or for the second thing?"

"The second thing."

"Now let me get this straight. A southern white man wants a black woman to live on his property and work for free? Am I gonna need to call on the ghost of Lincoln here?" She wasn't smiling.

Jake roars with laughter, tears squeezing out of his eyes. Finally he says, "It sure sounds like that, doesn't it? Well, not to worry. I have black men, too!" He laughs again. "But I also have white and asian and mixed race men and women and children, too. No, it's nothing like that. Here's what you do." He reaches into his blazer and pulls out a thick brochure and a business card. "I'm going to give you and your lovely family a ride home in that there limousine. Read over the brochure. Keep the card and be ready... the limo will be back tomorrow morning at eight AM sharp and will wait for fifteen minutes before leaving, with or without you. Don't fear, pretty lady-- even if you decide to come along you'll still be able to change your mind at any time." Jake gestures them into the car and follows them in. "Just tell my driver Felix where your home is."

A long way on foot, the limo gets there in ten minutes. They drive in silence as LaShamra reads the brochure, skeptically at first, but then with slowly widening eyes. She continues reading after the limo stops at the entrance to her home in the projects, the kids fidgeting. Finally Jake clears his throat. She holds up a finger, turns the last page and reads it, then closes the brochure. She looks at him crossly and snaps, "This ain't for real-- who you think you foolin'?" and throws it onto the floor. "Nobody does nothin' for nobody, you get me? Come on, kids." She shuffles them towards her building without a backward glance.

She doesn't get much sleep that night. The building is always noisy, but this is something more. Her brain is buzzing with the possibility of freedom-- freedom from this miserable existence. She can't ignore the potential, even if it sounds wildly optimistic. Perfect World? Moneyless society? Freedom from competition, freedom from poverty? World Family? He's out of his mind, but he's rich. I can take his generosity as long as he's willing to give it.

At eight AM LaShamra looks out the narrow bathroom window of her one-room efficiency, the only window which overlooks the project entrance; sure enough, the limousine is waiting. She hustles the kids downstairs, bound up like pack mules with all their stuff, and drags heavy duty plastic bags filled with her own life behind her. She peers into the limo and guardedly asks, "Is this for real?"

Jake smiles and makes room for her, and the kids, and their black plastic bags. "It's the first day of the rest of your life, LaShamra-- let's make it a great one!"

In a whirlwind of stacked events, they are brought to the airport, then to a private jet, then to a helicopter. LaShamra is amusing in her doubt; at every change in venue she shakes her head at the new situation with a 'that ain't right', or a 'waitin' for the other foot to fall', or even a 'being led like lambs to slaughter'.

Several hours later she finds herself miles from any city, in rugged mountainous terrain, and as the chopper heads over the final rise she is surprised to see a large area of smooth farmland dotted with tiny buildings amidst the peaks.

The chopper lands near one and she realizes it is not tiny but is actually a very large warehouse.

"Come inside, come inside, LaShamra, kids. I wanna show you what we're doing." Jake motions to a worker and the man rolls over a large cart to carry their possessions. As they unload Jake says, "We're early in the planning stages, but everyone who arrives gets the full treatment, the same treatment they would receive in the completed city. Come on in, I'll show you."

A rolling door on one end of the corrugated warehouse is open-- LaShamra cannot see past the gloom until they actually walk into it, which is when she gets a surprise. She realizes this is no ordinary warehouse-- it's more like the side of a cruise ship, with decks and railings and many, many people milling about. The children ooh and ahh as they follow Jake to a doorway marring the otherwise sheer inner wall.

"Jake, what is all this?"

"Your new home, if you'll have it. Just wait." Inside the doorway is a room with a bank of elevators; Jake calls one and it opens immediately. It is deep, like a service elevator, and wider than the doors by a factor of three. They all fit inside, including the man rolling the large cart of possessions, and have room to spare. For a farm, everything inside the warehouse is remarkably shiny and clean, the floors most notably-- LaShamra looks down and can make out her face staring back at her in the floor's reflection.

The elevator drops for a long minute and when the doors part, they are staring at another shiny white room and a long bright hallway heading straight back, white doors on either side every thirty feet, the end a dark shadow. They begin walking, heels clicking on the smooth hard floor.

"This floor is called Charisse. Your home is right here." Jake opens a door marked 'Johnson Residence' and steps back to let them in. LaShamra gasps. The foyer is larger than her entire efficiency back home! Behind it is a fully furnished living room, round with an arched cupola ceiling.

The cart man whispers to Jake who says, "Pick your bedrooms, kids! Archibald here will set you up while I give you the grand tour and get you started.

The children race inside and begin opening doors, laying claim like prospectors. Jake directs LaShamra to the one unopened door. She turns the knob but is unprepared for what she finds. Beyond is an opulent bedroom, a master suite with walk-in closet and full bath, but what drops her mouth open is the picture window. She crosses the room and looks out...

They are in a tremendous natural cavern, hundreds of feet tall!

Ragged rock walls, striated with ancient sedimentary formations bolster up grand buildings of steel, masonry and glass built into the walls. Jake pushes the window sideways and the room opens up onto a wide balcony. She can see dozens of buildings in the vast cave, each with hundreds of apartments. The building nearest them isn't yet finished, and is swarming with people assembling it at great speed. It was spectacular!

LaShamra is speechless. She has never left her city, never even left her bus line. Tears well in her eyes. Finally she whispers, "Jake... this is so beautiful!"

Jake responds, "Thank you, my dear. I've been trying to tell you-- this is what a little Perfect World cooperation can accomplish. Not one person you see out there receives a dime. But for their contributions they are constantly rewarded. Of course they live in opulence... I don't know one person who would live in squalor if they had a choice. But there's more. All of your food is provided for you, and most of it is fresh, grown on the surface! You can cook for yourself and your kids if you desire, but most people enjoy the socialization found in one of the grand restaurants. Ornate, spacious and of course free, each establishment is staffed with fine chefs preparing the most delicious of meals. I've been busy, LaShamra, finding the best of the best-- like the most popular chef in France; and the best of the unknown-- like you."

LaShamra looks startled. "Me? I'm a mother of two on welfare! I lost my last job as a waitress because I was caught stealing food! How am I the best at anything?"

"Tut tut, child... don't knock yourself down. I've been assured that you will be perfect in your role here. But enough of that for now... what do you say we show the kids the podschool? It's where they'll be spending the bulk of their time for the next few years."

LaShamra can't help doubting every other word out of this fella's mouth because it all sounds so fantastic, but has to admit that he's kept his word so far and hasn't exaggerated a single time, and now all this! She grudgingly admits to herself that she is impressed with Jake and is ready to trust him. "Okay, Jake... lead the way. Clifford, Tamyra, time for school!"

Ignoring their protests she collects them from their rooms, noticing that every room in this apartment is bigger than her whole apartment back at home, and that is true for the children's bathrooms as well. They climb back into the elevator and Jake presses the 'school' button-- LaShamra notices every floor has a name, not a number-- getting off three floors above their residence floor, Charisse, but even still, well below the surface.

"Jake, did you make this cavern?"

He chuckled. "With my bare hands! No, missy, we found it. My scientists were trying to find ways to scan deeply through the ground and came up with a new kind of camera using powerful EM radiation. We shot it into space and had them mount it on one of those satellites floating around in space. I think we may have found every cavern, rift or abscess on the planet down to a depth of about 1000 feet! Did you know there are hundreds of thousands of them worldwide, largely undiscovered?"

"I didn't! Why did you do that?"

"We were looking for better ways to find underground resources, like metallic ores and new sources of fuel. Which worked, by the way. Finding the caverns gave me a great idea for building a secret city like this one. They are fascinating places-- did you know they keep a uniform temperature of about 56 degrees Fahrenheit, summer or winter? Being deep underground they provide protection from storms and potential attack, and they are a rich source of fresh water, material resources and energy from geothermal sources."

The elevator passes BonTemps residence level, then Airedale, and opens up at the School. Again a long white hallway greets them, but the doors on either side are much more tightly stacked, perhaps five or six feet apart. Above each door is a pair of small colored lights; one red, one green. Most are shining red, but every few yards a green light shines.

"Kids, your job is to find a door under a green light and go inside. One kid, one door. Off with you!" Jake gives them a friendly push-off.

"What's behind the door?" LaShamra is curious.

"You'll find out... you're going to school today also! Pick a green light and have a seat... all will be explained to you in short order. We'll meet for dinner and I'll tell you the rest."

To her surprise Jake gives her a quick hug and races to the elevator, waving as the doors close.

LaShamra finds a door and opens it. She finds a small room barely larger than a closet-- with just a comfortable chair and a wide television screen. As she sits the screen lights up, and she's staring at a young woman sitting at a desk, attacking a checklist with a pen. The young woman looks up and seems surprised, then collects herself and says, "Good afternoon. What's your name?"

Her picture on the screen flickers gently and LaShamra wonders if the closed circuit television feed has been corrupted with moisture, being underground and all. She figures the girl on the screen must be the teacher and answers obediently. "LaShamra Johnson."

"Okay, LaShamra. Your age?"

"25."

"Last occupation?"

"Waitress."

"I hope you had good shoes."

"Just my churchgoin' shoes."

"Ouch."

"You got that right!"

"Marital status?"

"Single."

"Any children?"

"Oh, I got a son, Clifford. He's nine, and my little girl Tamyra is seven."

"What brings you to the Farm?"

"The Farm? I thought this was a cavern."

The young woman looks up at LaShamra. She has freckles and a mop of shoulder length brown hair that dances as she speaks. She must be at least 23 but looks about sixteen. The teacher begins reciting:

"The Farm Colony is the first collection of people who will be at the core of Perfect World, a revolutionary social system meant to replace democracy and capitalism, and ultimately, all other forms of government. At its completion, it is meant to finally bring humanity into harmony with each other and the Earth, in a movement called World Family.

"The Farm is a self-sufficient, organic experimental living environment that has the support of the United States President, who is of the view that Perfect World will be a way around the endless war and misery which has plagued civilization since it began. It is not secret but purposely not publicized; the methods employed here would not translate well in the outside world, and as a new and still fragile experiment, corruption from the outside would damage if not destroy it.

"At its core are the ten Primary Guidelines which must be followed in order to ensure survival of the Farm colony, and later, the World Family. The first two are the heart of Perfect World. Number One we all know as the Golden Rule-- treat each person as you would like to be treated yourself. Unfortunately in the world at large the Golden Rule has become 'whoever has the gold makes the rules', a perversion which is unsustainable for an enlightened society.

"Number Two is a lot more controversial; three simple words with a powerful meaning: Believe in fact. That means humanity is to stop believing in the unproven. Like a supreme deity, for example, or many religious assertions which fly in the face of fact, like the age of planet Earth. Even simple things like superstitions must disappear-- walking under ladders, black cats, rabbit's foots-- to make way for the age of true enlightenment.

"The changes in society that Perfect World makes can be truly hard to imagine. For one, money is not used. Not just cash-- all routine dickering is unnecessary. For another, there are no more politicians nor anyone making unilateral pronouncements for the populace-- decisions are all made by the people themselves. Also, competition has been phased out between individuals, even as we encourage people to compete with their own records as a means of self improvement. Lastly, punishment has been deleted as a method of correction, What few jail accommodations we have are comfortable rooms, not cells; and we retrain, not warehouse our captive guests and for a much shorter period than you might expect.

"Living in a World Family guarantees that each citizen has all their needs taken care of without question; and in return, the citizen promises to moderate their list of wants by keeping an eye on the big picture, which is to ensure the well-being of us all. Many current jobs will be phased out which leaves people with much more free time, and their work responsibilities will drop to around ten hours a week. Bosses will be replaced by experts, people who have real experience, and whose main function will be as teachers and overseers to help the work happen smoothly."

She finishes and says, "Well, that was a lot of words. Do you have any questions?"

LaShamra thinks about all she has heard and all she has read earlier. The one sticking point she finds is this: "No jails? Where do you put all the criminals?"

"What kind of criminals are you talking about?"

"I dunno... like, thieves, for one."

"What will they steal? Everyone is welcome to anything they need."

"Well, what about rapists, then?"

"Rape is a crime of anger. Anger is an emotion we help soothe out of our citizens with understanding and assistance. Without anger, crimes like rape and murder disappear. And plain old sex drive is accepted and treated with our own version of New York's 42nd street, only not smarmy."

"Well, what about drug addicts?"

"No drugs are against the law here, but drug abuse is a sign of deeper troubles. Our open policy of non-punishment and non-judgement makes it much more likely a person will speak the truth of their situation, so we can help them alleviate it."

"What about people who have diseased brains, you know, the crazies?"

"Because we are involved with each of our citizens from birth, these medical conditions are actually very rare. When they occur they are detected very early in a person's life, and every opportunity to help them is used-- medically, psychologically and pharmacologically. If in some way they cannot be helped, they can live out their life in comfort away from the rest of society, separated by distance, nothing more. We find that cruelty disappears in this environment.

LaShamra is silent. The teacher asks, "Do you have any other questions, LaShamra?"

She takes a deep breath and sighs, "Yes. What's my function here? What on earth can I possibly contribute? I'm just a failure from the projects."

The teacher looks dismayed. "According to the aptitude tests you took at your welfare office you may be exactly suited for the World Family, honey. You're not any kind of failure... look at those beautiful children you've raised. Did you know childcare is the number one occupation here? How do you think we keep tabs on our kids unless we're always nearby?"

LaShamra beams. "I love kids!"

"Fantastic! Time for class."

"One more question." LaShamra was puzzled. "Do you have other students? How many teachers are there?"

She smiled. "Just me. But you should probably know-- you have been speaking to a synthesized version of the real me displayed on this terminal. A data file for each student helps me become the right teacher each student needs so that their innate abilities can be exercised into pure talent. The real me reviews each file to make any human changes the software might miss, although the software doesn't miss much."

"Oh, is that why I notice your picture jiggling from time to time?" LaShamra is impressed at how seamlessly this synthesis speaks to her.

"That's right! Good catch. Now let's start."

The teacher fades from the screen and is replaced by a short scene. Two four-year-old children are fighting over a lollipop. The scene fades and the teacher's voice says, "Choose the best way you'd solve this issue."

What follows is an astonishing number of choices, perhaps fifteen, each showing a slightly different way to end the battle, but what surprises LaShamra the most is that she herself shows up in the scene, playing the mother! In one she produces a second lollipop. In another she takes it away and steps on it. Or she spanks both of them and drags them off. Or she sits and coddles them. Or she splits the lollipop. Or she distracts them with magic. Or she sits them down and has a long philosophical talk about sharing. The list goes on, and after it ends each scene shrinks and joins the others in a line at the top of the screen to become one more choice to press. The last one has her throttling the kids and dragging them off.

"Oh those poor actor kids!" She says, dismayed.

The teacher's voice pipes into the room. "I'll bet you know they aren't really there-- it's all synthesized. That's why you're in the picture too-- to give the scenes a personal feeling, and so you can watch yourself making all the choices and decide which video looks closest to the way you'd act."

"Depending on my mood, a few of them are the way I'd act."

"Pick the one which makes you most proud."

She picks the one where she scolds them gently and allows one to be chivalrous and give it to the other, then rewards the child with another treat. As she does the screen wipes and another scene shows up. This time a group of children are coercing one to try a dangerous action. This time there are only eight decision scenes. "Why so many fewer choices?"

"To save time. Each choice you record helps determine the ones you won't choose on future questions and so I don't bother to show them again. Towards the end of a volley you can just say what you'd do and we can move on to the next question."

"How many scenes are there?"

"In this stage, 350."

"Three hundred and fifty!?"

"Yes, but they are spread out over many days of learning and are mixed in with other types of tests. You'll be happy to know you don't spend all your time in this little room."

"Good, 'cause my ass is getting numb."

"Perfect. Exit the room and go right, following the arrows on the wall. Time for some hands-on work."

LaShamra is led to an empty underground sandlot playground and directed to wear a motorcycle-type helmet.

When she does, she can suddenly see the sandlot is filled with kids, hollering up a storm! She rips the helmet off and the playground is empty and quiet again.

"Eeek! What is this, a ghost helmet?"

From a speaker in the ceiling the teacher replies, "Tut-tut... believe in fact, LaShamra. There's no evidence of ghosts. What you are wearing is a Holographic Reality Helmet. The helmet's lens allows you to watch the images created by the holoprojectors, and speakers let you hear the recording. Your job is to behave like a teacher, using the Podschool guidelines."

"I don't know the Podschool guidelines."

"Those would be the words floating around the room."

LaShamra notices sentences hovering like parade streamers wherever she looked, powder blue letters on a cloudlike white background. She concentrates on the nearest one, which seems to notice her attention because it straightens out, making itself easier to read.

"Every child has at least one natural talent, and most have dozens. Find them and nourish them and allow them to bloom."

As she reads the banner blazes a triumphant pink and rises to become the first guideline on a shimmery floating page.

Another one begins to float closer as if hoping to be read, zooming left and right to be in her field of vision as LaShamra watches the children at play. She notices one young boy, perhaps six, on the monkey bars-- not climbing them but rather dancing on them with ease, unafraid. His motions are effortless and his foot placement sure as he hops from grid to grid, from level to precarious level. She makes a full 360 degree sweep of the playground and sees a holographic high wire setup, complete with safety net that must have escaped her previous view. She calls to the boy, whose name floats above his head, "Rennen, why don't you try that one?" and points to the high wire. His holographic face lights up with excitement, as he bounds up the ladder and shimmies, squirrel-like, across the narrow cable.

Other children are also demonstrating talents and she 'notices' appropriate equipment for them and directs them to it, which they attack with squeals of joy. But one boy just sits on the concrete perimeter, looking sad and banging the edge with a stick. "What's wrong, Tayo? Can't find anything you like?"

"I don't have good balance like Rennen, or enjoy bouncing the way Zefi does, or tumbling like Uller, even on the slow spiral centrifuge. What can I do?"

"I notice you tapping out a rhythm, Tayo. Do you want to try some drums?"

Even as his face breaks into a grin LaShamra can see a full drum kit materialize behind him. "Well, use that one! And don't be afraid of breaking anything-- hit it as hard as you want!"

Tayo sits on the stool and grabs some drumsticks. LaShamra can see a floating screen of instructions and examples appear in front of him, which he watches raptly and attempts, beaming. She marvels at the technology at work in this room and asks her teacher, "When's this test gonna be over? All the kids are busy and having a great time!"

The voice responds, "LaShamra, this isn't a test. These are real kids, located in all different parts of the Farm, whose images are assembled for viewing in here. You have been successfully leading them since you walked in here-- didn't I mention that part?"

LaShamra barely has time to react to this knowledge when Jake strolls in. "I just got finished visiting your kids. I'm telling you, they are loving this school! Tamyra learned she can balance on anything... and that she likes french, and little Clifford has already decided he wants one of his talents to be music!"

"Music? Really? What instrument?"

"The drums."

Realization dawns on her and she yells, "Teacher, was I teaching my own kids?"

"Among others, yes."

She looks at Jake crossly and asks, "Does a lot of your program involve subterfuge?"

He grins. "Just when we want to make a point. You'll find that normally WYSIWYG."

"Wizzy-wig?

"The acronym for 'what you see is what you get'.

"Hmph. Well trickery or not, I had to say this was really fun! It's nice to work again, even if I don't get paid for it."

"You do get paid, you know, though not in money. Your work is credited, my dear, which offsets your room and board, health care and everything the Farm has to offer. And what the Farm has to offer keeps growing. I don't think you are aware how big we are already-- what you saw from your balcony was only a small fraction of the whole place. Teacher, can you display a map, please?"

"Certainly, Jake. Orthographic hologram or flat display?"

"Let's bring out all the bells and whistles, shall we?"

Immediately the room stops being a playground and instead becomes the view from LaShamra's window. Then, as a bird, the camera seems to drop off the balcony and instead of plummeting to the ground, drifts into the wide open space of the cavern! LaShamra loses her balance in the imagery and Jake catches her, steadying her by the waist and shoulders with his strong, rough hands. The camera swoops back and forth between the beautiful stone buildings and down into the valley between them where she observes people on walkways, children in playgrounds, workers building structures and birds in flocks flying around and over them all. The camera reaches the limit of her apartment's view but continues to the right, past the farthest building and through a large, previously unseen split in the cavern wall that opens into another enormous room, also filled with buildings, some which scrape the distant cavern ceiling! Up and around the camerabird swoops, Jake now holding LaShamra with one arm around her narrow waist and his other clutching a grip in the wall to steady them both.

The camera picks up speed and shoots through the enormous new room

and down a wide stairway that drops for hundreds of feet before ending and opening up into the grandest cavern she had ever seen! She gasps at the enormity of the room-- all of Manhattan island would fit in here and the tallest buildings would barely reach halfway to the ceiling! And dwarfing the room is a waterfall cascading from the roof down to the cavern floor.... and beyond.

The rushing water drops past the base of the Farm's impressive buildings, past an overlook and into an abyss, deep and inky black.

"It drops for miles... we haven't found the bottom yet," Jake proffers. "It does provide all of our water needs, though, and produces enough hydroelectric power to sell off 98% of what we create! We then use the profits to buy building materials and equipment."

LaShamra is standing there, mouth agape. "This is better than Disneyland!"

"By a factor of a thousand, I'd say," Jake agrees, shutting off the hologram. "There are another twelve cavern rooms which make up the Farm, but what do you say we hold off on the tour for now, collect your kids and grab some dinner? I'm starving!"

"Me too!"

Good-- you have to try the cave lobster. So delicious... and even the shell is edible!"

Copyright 2009 Bruce Ian Friedman