The Rise of Walsanto (Self-Inflicted Series Book 1) Page 8

  Chapter 13

  South Carolina

  Late Fall 2020

  Traditional farms & hatcheries

  “Initially, I was just going to do a sample of them,” Dan said as he led Jim Ward into the room off the barn where their incubators were kept. “But there wasn’t a single viable egg in the lot.”

  “How many were there when you did all of them?” Jim asked. His brow wrinkled signaling his confusion.

  “Not a single damned egg, Jim! We might just as well have been cooking them and eating them, because there isn’t a damned thing there that’s any good.”

  “Your other birds had no problems?” Jim asked.

  “About our typical hatch rates on both the ducks and the quail.”

  “I know this is a stupid question,” he began, “Stacey is certain that she did everything right?”

  Dan just looked at him with a disgusted expression.

  “Okay, yeah, I get it. I just had to ask. What do you think is different between the chickens and the other birds?”

  “The only thing I know of for sure is what they are eating.”

  “What’s different there?”

  “We’re feeding that new corn to the chickens and the others free range for the most part. A few supplements, but no heavy feeding, just a little grain to get them back to the coops at night.”

  Jim scratched his head. “Are you feeding corn to anything else?”

  “Pigs and milk cows.”

  “Seeing anything there?”

  “Cows have been fresh for a while, so I don’t know about them, but my sows seem to be a week or so late getting started pushin’ out piglets. You think there is something in that new corn?”

  “I can’t say for sure, Dan.”

  “What can we do, Jim? We’re already in a bind with our day old chicks. We’ve got chicks already promised and we’re not going to have any. Worse yet, I have to break the news to Stacey.”

  “I’m sorry, Dan,” Jim replied. “I don’t know what to tell you just yet.” He considered his options for a moment. He’d seen a couple other places with the same problem and he was beginning to wonder. Was there a connection between feeding the new corn and the problems with hatching? It was a little too soon to tell. He needed to get a better sampling of the hatcheries before he really knew what was going on. If the new corn made the chickens sterile, then what other surprises were they in store for? He didn’t even want to think about that at this point.

  “Tell you what,” he started up again. Let me do some checking around and see how extensive this problem is and get a better handle on what’s going on. I’ll put a call in to Rusty Whitman, too. Maybe he’s seen something about this. It isn’t much, Dan, but at this point, all we can do is do a little bit more exploring and ask some questions. Sorry.”

  “I understand. Damn! I could have at least sold those eggs to be eaten. Now they’re just wasted.”

  Jim understood. He’d lost some batches before himself, but it had always been due to some stupid error or an equipment problem or something with an explanation. “Let me go do some checking, Dan. I’ll call you the minute I know something.”

  “Alright, I guess there’s not much else we can do right now.” He sighed heavily as he started in clearing the eggs in order to dump them. “I’m not looking forward to that phone call with Stacey, either.”

  “I don’t envy you, Dan. Take it easy.” It seemed kind of a stupid thing to say, but he wasn’t sure what else to say, so he turned to leave as Dan muttered a response. The best way for him to get a handle on what was going on was to check out a few more places. A place that free ranged would make an excellent control sample. He wasn’t far from Jacob and Elaine Hunter’s place, so he turned down the road toward their turn off.

  He called several hatcheries as he drove and asked if they had hatched or floated or candled their eggs. The trickling of responses was beginning to make him wonder if the new corn was indeed the problem. As he pulled into the Hunter’s driveway, things were becoming rather gloomy for him.

  Elaine recognized his truck coming up the driveway and left the work that she was doing in the large garden beside the house and made her way to greet him.

  “Hi Jim,” she said, extending her hand as she moved closer.

  “Hey, Elaine. How are things?”

  “Couldn’t be better. We’re hatching birds left and right. I told Jacob that it was like popcorn in there this morning.” She grinned at her own cleverness.

  “That’s actually what I was coming to check on.”

  “Oh? What’s going on? I’ve heard some rumors…”

  “I can’t really say at this point. I’m kind of surveying the hatcheries today. You’re still free ranging all of your birds?”

  “Yes. Neither Jacob nor I are very fond of the idea of eating meat from gray skinned chickens.” She chuckled softly as she said it.

  “You don’t buy that its better quality?”

  “No, we don’t. As Jacob says; ‘There has to be something wrong with chickens that have gray skin. It ain’t supposed to be that color.’ And I’m inclined to agree with him.”

  Jim shrugged his shoulders. There wasn’t much sense in trying to convince organic growers of the benefits of GM feeds and products, especially when he hadn’t erased all of his own doubts about it. “So, all in all, your hatching has been successful?”

  “That’s what I’m saying. You’re welcome to come take a look if you like.”

  As tempted as he was to take a look, he believed that he had enough information to give an intelligent report up the chain to Rusty Whitman. An uneasiness in his gut had been forming since he’d gotten the first couple of phone calls, but having started to check things out, it was working its way into a full-grown churning. He’d be expected to provide some answers in both directions. It sucked to be in the middle of the chain.

  “I think I’ll head on down the road. Thanks for your input, Elaine.”

  “Not a problem. Let us know if there is anything else we can do.”

  “I sure will. Thanks. See you later.” He got in the truck, put it in reverse and started back down the drive.

  When he was back on the main road, he opened the directory in his cell phone in order to dial Rusty Whitman. He was about to press send when he saw Gerald Davies in his extension agency pickup coming toward him flashing his lights. He pulled off the shoulder and Gerald pulled up next to him and cut his motor.

  “Well, how in the world are you doin’, Jim Ward?” Gerald called out as he extended his hand out of the open window toward Jim.

  “Just fine, Gerald, and you?” He always liked Gerald Davies. The man had an eager smile, a firm handshake, and he would do anything for anybody.

  “Fair to middlin’. Damned nice morning for a drive.”

  “Sure is. What excuse did you use?”

  Gerald laughed. “Hell, I don’t need an excuse. I gotta try and run the wheels off this old pickup so they’ll buy me a new one.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  Gerald’s expression suddenly became serious. “You out checkin’ up on the hatching problems?”

  “I didn’t know it was common knowledge.”

  “Well, I’ve been getting some of the same phone calls I’m bettin’ you are. I’ve been sending a lot of them on to you. We aren’t going to be able to keep a lid on this for long.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. I'm about to make a call to Rusty Whitman.”

  “I suppose that’s the next step.” He paused and looked at the ground for a few minutes. Jim could feel that there was something deep behind his thoughts.

  “No,” Gerald answered, looking off down the road to an approaching car that slowed and maneuvered around the two pickups. He chuckled at the glare from the driver who evidently didn’t approve of how they were parked. “I’ve got another problem I’m trying to solve.”

  “Oh?” Jim waited. He knew Gerald well enough to know that he would volunteer the i
nformation if he wanted to or keep his mouth shut if he didn’t.

  “Since we’re kind of dealing with the same thing, I guess I’ll go ahead and tell you.” Gerald paused again as he formed the right words in his mind. “Some of the livestock...the pigs, cows, goats and such...are sloughing their babies.”

  Not being particularly familiar with raising livestock and being at least twenty years younger than Gerald, Jim wasn’t sure what “sloughing” meant exactly, but from the context he deduced that it meant that they’d been stillborn. He thought about what Dan had said about his pigs. “You think the new corn has something to do with it?”

  Gerald locked eyes with him. “I don’t know, Jim, but there’s something damned peculiar going on here. First, it was those gray skinned chickens, and now this. Just between you and me, I’m not sure if I’m ready to buy all the hype just yet.”

  “I know what you mean, Gerald.”

  “Well, I better get on down the road. Have a good afternoon.” He turned the key in the ignition and put the pickup into gear. Just as he started to pull away, he stopped. “Hey, Jim, let’s put together a meeting in the next week or so and bring everybody in. It'd be damned sure easier to talk to all of them at once if and when we get some answers.”

  “Good idea. I’ll run it by Rusty and give you a holler after a while.”

  Gerald nodded and pulled away. “Well, now, that was enlightening,” he said aloud to himself and then pushed the send button to call Rusty.

  Chapter 14

  Washington. DC

  Late Fall 2020

  Food Czar’s office

  Rusty considered Jim Ward to be a serious, no nonsense kind of guy. He’d known him since they were in college together. In fact, they had started their first jobs together. Life had taken them in different directions, but they had stayed in touch. Therefore, Rusty took the phone call seriously. The conversation with Jim wasn’t exactly the most comforting one he’d had in a long time. Since accepting this appointment, Rusty often had to field some difficult phone calls, but the more he thought about it, the more he was disturbed by Jim’s.

  Rusty had already heard the complaint of the gray/green skinned chickens, and had it thoroughly checked out. The resulting report said that the chicken meat in question was even higher in protein and vitamins than normal. As soon as he had received that report, he had passed it along to their spokespeople to have it spun as being better for you. That had calmed things down, and he had continued to push Walsanto Seed’s new GM/Hybrid corn as the first step in eliminating world hunger.

  He had seen the research and he was 100% behind the goal of making certain that no one in the world would go hungry. He was proud of what he was doing, even though at times, he was hard pressed to keep everyone on track, and staying focused on the talking points that went along with being the world’s leading supplier of food. Everything had fit well into the agenda, with only a few minor hiccups to this point.

  Now Jim was saying that there seemed to be some problem with the eggs from chickens that had been fed the new corn. No doubt the eggs from those chickens would also prove higher in protein and vitamins, just like the meat of the gray/green skinned chickens had. That wasn’t what worried Rusty about Jim’s phone call. Jim’s concern was not about the quality of edible eggs, rather a problem of egg viability. That could suggest the possibility of sterilization of animals eating the GM/Hybrid corn. The very thought of that was scary beyond belief.

  If chickens eating the corn were going sterile, then there would be a huge problem with the overall population of chickens in the near future, as fewer and fewer were available. That, of course, would cause a mass panic along with an enormous jump in poultry prices at the supermarket as the law of supply and demand took hold on the market.

  Men can manipulate costs, Rusty thought. They can provide subsidies and price controls but the law of supply and demand, which many from the socialist side of things didn’t believe in, would take control, no matter how hard governments or other entities tried to control things.

  Then he took the thought a step further. What about other meats? If chickens were going sterile from eating it, what about other poultry? What about cattle, pigs, goats and sheep? He hadn’t yet heard any concerns of livestock sterility, but other livestock did not reproduce nearly as fast as chickens, so if there was an issue, it would certainly turn up in poultry first.

  He picked up the phone and dialed Albert Mann at the USDA.

  “USDA Research Department, this is Janet speaking, how may I direct your call?” the receptionist on the other line said with a smile in her voice.

  “Janet, this is Rusty Whitman, is Albert available?”

  “He certainly is, Mr. Whitman, please hold one moment.” There was a brief hold while he listened to elevator music.

  “Rusty!” Albert’s baritone voice boomed over the phone. Albert was a huge black man who had played defensive line at Ohio State before continuing on in their graduate program and finishing with a PhD in some agricultural related field that Rusty had long since forgotten. Albert had been hired to do research at the USDA and worked his way up to one of the research supervisory positions. “What can I do for you today?”

  “Have we done any tests on the eggs of chickens that have been fed Walsanto’s new GM/Hybrid corn?”

  I’m sure we have,” he replied. “I would assume that they have the same higher protein and vitamin values, just like the meat.”

  “Could you check and see if you’ve done some research on that yet and get back to me with a report?”

  “Do you want me to go ahead and start a study if we don’t have a report?” Albert asked.

  Rusty was in a tough spot. What really needed to be researched was the viability of eggs produced from chickens eating GM/Hybrid corn rather than the nutritional quality of the eggs. He had initially meant to ask Albert to run those tests, but he started to have second thoughts about it. If the USDA did research on egg viability, then it would be much harder to keep a lid on things and the President would enjoy an extensive ass chewing by Rusty’s hand. For the time being, he thought he had better keep a cover on things until he could give the President a heads up.

  “If you don’t already have a study, go ahead and do one and report the nutritional results back to me so that I can get them to the PR people. I’m sure this is just going to be something similar to the gray/green skin on chickens scare.”

  “No problem at all Rusty,” Albert said. “I’ll call you right back in a few minutes.”

  “Just leave a message with Ellen,” he said, “I’m on my way out.”

  “Alright,” Albert replied cheerfully. “Anything else?”

  That’s all for now,” Rusty said. “Thanks.” He replaced the receiver on the hook, not hearing Albert’s response.

  This was turning into a huge problem. The President would want to be briefed on it, but Rusty wasn’t sure which way this would go. That’s what President James would expect Rusty to predict. The President’s reputation was heavily dependent on this whole thing. In fact, his poll popularity had risen considerably from his “Feeding the World” program. Any wrinkle, real or perceived in that area would not make him very happy.

  Rusty had been commended for his work dealing with the gray skinned chickens’ problem, and he hoped that he would draw the same for dealing with this egg problem. He’d have to play things exactly right. Having President James angry didn’t help the careers of his advisors.

  He pressed the speaker button on his phone, punched the speed dial to the White House Chief of Staff Office. He waited until the call connected and then picked up the receiver.

  “Yes, Mr. Whitman?” the receptionist answered.

  “I need to see if I can be worked into his schedule for about ten to fifteen minutes sometime today.”

  “Hold one moment, please.”

  He wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to present things. He just needed to make certain that the President understood that
there was a potential issue out there and that he planned on going to South Carolina to visit his old friend Jim Ward and tour several of the farms. Should he bring up the egg viability issue? He’d be in serious trouble if the President found out about it through some other source. It could even get out to the media. It was better to let President James know that he was aware of things and taking action. It put him in a difficult situation, but what other choice did he have?

  “Chief of Staff says that he can work you in for ten minutes at 4:30,” the receptionist announced, coming back on the line.

  Rusty looked at his watch. He had about 45 minutes to get himself ready. “That will do fine,” he said.

  “I will put you in the schedule, but understand that this late in the afternoon; some of the appointments get bumped to tomorrow or cancelled altogether.”

  “I’m aware of that. Thank you.”

  “You are quite welcome, Mr. Whitman. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “That will be all, thank you.”

  “Then, you have a pleasant afternoon sir,” she said cheerfully.

  “Likewise,” he replied.

  After hanging up the phone, he pressed the intercom button and asked his assistant to hold his calls and visits. He would be unavailable for the next thirty minutes and out of the office after that.

  Once that was taken care of, he reclined in his chair and tried to think. What was the best approach to telling the President what he had learned from Jim Ward? He didn’t want to get Jim on any watch list, so it would be better not to mention any names.

  Play it simple, Rusty, and be honest. He could envision all sorts of issues just beyond the horizon and he wasn’t very comfortable with any of them. In fact, as he considered the endless list of downfalls that would result if GM/Hybrid corn was making animals sterile, he could feel the acid building up in his stomach.

  He leaned forward and pulled out a drawer on his desk that contained a pack of Rolaids. Unwrapping the end of the roll, he popped three in his mouth and then leaned back in his chair again as he chewed on the chalky tablets, the flavor of which was poorly covered by mint.