Future Farming Ch. 03

He was a no-nonsense, straight-to-the-point kind of guy. I explained my career, leaving out the recent government interference, and let him know about two delivery mechanisms I'd developed for Lupus and another for liver cancer.

He asked about my background in chemistry, and how I'd done in earth science, and I explained that between bites of food. After nearly a half hour of interrogation, Raul leaned back in his chair and regarded me fully.

"Steeben," he finally said, "I need a man like you. We have a significant problem. We are doing our best to undo the damage to the soil before a crisis turns into something more catastrophic."

"Who are 'we,'" I asked.

"Ah," he responded, seemingly excited about our engagement. "There are seventeen chemists, the finest from North and South America. Sixteen cell biologists, twenty-two microbiologists, forty organic chemists, and we have seven biochemical engineers. You make number eight."

"That's ambitious," I told him. "What are you trying to do, exactly?"

"Maybe save the world's food supply," he was dead serious, and it showed. "Is that something you might be interested in? It could take your mind off your troubles."

"Won't it be a problem for you," I answered just as sincerely, "if I'm caught?"

Raul laughed for the first time, and it was endearing. "You won't need to worry about that." He was still chuckling, and I just looked at him in wonder.

"Let me tell you a story," he began, motioning for the woman who served us, as he paused. "Cervezas, por favor." He told her.

"In 1985," he restarted, "I was a... how you say -cocky - kid straight out of school. I knew more than everyone, and I was better than most everyone, too. My thesis had been on Leveraging Stratospheric Condensation, or what is now known as cloud seeding. It wasn't some new science. Trying to make it rain, first began in 1946, and the first official cloud seeding happened eleven years later. My thesis centered around the addition of other organic materials that water vapor could cling to naturally, as it has since the beginning of time.

"Microscopic polymers, similar to plastic, would act as dust particles," he continued. "But another scientist made me look bad, by proving a natural substance - common salt - could be just as effective."

"And that has what to do with saving the world," I asked skeptically. He needed to know right off that I was legit.

"I'm getting to that," he smiled, unmoved by my comment. "All these years later, our soil is contaminated. Contaminated with metals - high concentrations that aren't supposed to be there. I became outspoken a decade ago about Bill Yates and his mega-rich investors. They tried to silence me and were most effective. The thing was, after his trial, and as the land was being returned or repurchased by farmers, crops weren't growing correctly.

"After being shunned, the US Government contacted me. Asked if I'd be willing to find the cause and figure out how to reverse it. After all my conditions were accepted, I agreed."

"What have you found?" I couldn't help my curiosity.

"Let me finish, so I can answer your first question," he said. "I have a team of over nine hundred, working in five states. One of my conditions was having my own Seguridad. That's an additional five hundred men and the government had to agree to keep their mercenarios out. Some of my people are also mercenarios. You're in no danger here with us. No one is.

"Now to your other question," he went on. "I was wrong about Yates. We found out very soon after beginning our research that my personal opinions of the man and his partners had been driving my assumptions, not the science. Our problem here, and in the other four states, is the metals in the ground. The further along we go, the more we're beginning to realize that the chemicals used to seed clouds may be the very thing causing the soil problems. For me, that's been a, how do you say, hard pill to swallow."

"But Silver iodine is safe," I told him. "What else is there? A little salt and some dry ice."

"Raul smiled again. "Yes, those are the chemicals. The toxic metals in the soil are silver and aluminum dioxide. At first, my mistake was assuming the government wasn't being honest. Maybe short-cutting, using those other chemicals. However, it seems that it could be the way arsenic and other ground elements are interacting with the silver iodine that's falling to earth, and yet another theory is that the compounds are interacting in a way we don't understand."

"Okay," I said. "I build devices and delivery systems for a living, but I hope my basic chemical knowledge is still there. What could salt and dry..."

It hit me then. Dry ice is carbon dioxide. Dioxide.

"Yes," he was excited watching my mental wheels turning. "The carbon dioxide may be attaching to the silver molecules, transforming the rain droplets, or once they reach the ground. That's where we are now. If this pans out, we are going to need a remedy - and a delivery method to fix the soil."

And that's what we did. I met a number of incredible people - people of science, unrestricted by the government propaganda machine. Hector, a microbiologist from the leading university in Brazil, and Maria an organic chemist from Central America were the first to confirm their findings. That happened nine months after I arrived in Oklahoma.

Gabby and I had by then, moved in with each other. It was a small guest house behind Raul's. We were the only ones living in a home. The others were either in one of the small motels run by members of the reservation, or they were roughing it.

I couldn't say I was in love with her, because I rarely had time to consider it. We sure were living like a married couple, especially in the bedroom. Gabriela seemed like she was completely devoted to me, while at the same time, never pressuring me into the conversation I knew was coming. It ended up being Raul who had that talk with me.

"Ah, Steeben," he greeted me in his modest living room. "Please, sit. I have some news and some questions."

A cooler iced and filled with Mexican beers was alongside the sofa, and on the coffee table, a platter of roasted poblanos, chips, and guacamole. The ice-cold Corona quickly quenched my mid-day thirst.

"Steeben," he began, "The initial soil tests are promising. The hazardous metals are being neutralized. It will take some more time to see what will grow, or if we've made things worse. I'd like to send you to Yuma. Work with another biochem engineer there to develop the delivery system for our neutralizer."

Raul took a large bite of chili, then a tortilla strip, and finally a swig of his beer, all while allowing what he said to sink in.

"Ah, but I see," he continued, "you are questioning yourself. May this perhaps have to do with my daughter, Gabriela?"

I nodded, looking at the man. "Yes, sir. I think I need to talk to her before accepting your invitation."

"My invitation?" he chuckled. "Senior Boswell, it was no invitation. You are here for one reason. We have a bargain. Are you in love with my daughter?"

Always like Raul - very direct. I decided to consider my answer carefully.

"I believe I am," I finally replied. "We haven't talked much about that, though."

"I see," he became serious. "And you are still married, as I hear it, to this other woman, Sarah, yes?"

I nodded. There was no reason to be embarrassed as far as I was concerned, yet I was.

"Yet, you lay with her each night, no?" his tone more accusatory. "You aren't using my daughter, are you Steeben?"

"No! No!" I answered quickly. "She's been. She is... I do care for her - a lot. I don't want to ever be with my ex-wi... my wife." Therein was the crux of the problem. Raul has easily fleshed it out and made me feel like a fool.

"I think that you and Gabriela need to have a serious talk," he leaned forward. "Either way, tomorrow at sunset, you're leaving with a security detail to Yuma."

He was right. That night I asked Gabby if we could sit and talk. She was expecting it.

"Gabby," I began, still unsure how I wanted to approach her. "I think you know I have strong feelings for you. Your father wants me..."

"What do you think I know, Steve?" she interrupted. "What of these feelings?"

I just looked at her. Her face showed disappointment. "Okay," she said after the uncomfortable pause. "I'll begin. I think I may be falling for you, as in husband material. I've always liked you, been drawn to you, as I'm sure you know. We've shared a house and a bed for nearly ten months now. If I didn't have those feelings, we'd be in separate rooms by now. You've been busy though, and you're married."

She waved me off as I tried to speak. "I know your situation, obviously. I'm not blaming you for that. But, I'm still a traditional girl, even though I'm not completely traditional. My father isn't happy about that. I need to know that once we're done here, your priority is going to be a divorce. It has to be if we have any chance for a future."

"Gabby," I stated unequivocally, "if I could be divorced tomorrow, I would be. If you don't already know that, then I'm saying it now on the record. If - and I'm saying if - we help solve this soil and food issue, and I'm no longer being chased by a three-letter agency, then I'll initiate divorce proceedings. If she files for divorce or abandonment before that, and the paperwork somehow finds its way to me, I'll sign it in a heartbeat."

Gabby came over and sat by my side, cozying up to me. She could see how riled I'd become. "I'm sorry if it seems like I doubt you." She took a second to think through what she wanted to say. "I believe you - I do. We just haven't spoken about our relationship much, and I... well I've spent time, like I said, as a housemate and a bedmate, and have started wondering lately what we really mean to each other."

"And I'm sorry," I replied, pulling her close. "For not making it clear. So let me be perfectly honest. I like you - a lot. I'm not going to say 'love' because we haven't had the time, or the ability, normal people have to express their feelings. I'm never going to be with Sarah again. Likewise, you and I will need a courting period before we make any mutual promises. If I've learned one thing through all this, I need to be a lot more purposeful - maybe deliberate - when choosing the next partner to spend my life with."

Gabby started crying, so I held her tighter. But I had no patience about the subject matter, so I lifted her chin so I could see her face. "They're happy tears," she said right away. "I feel the same, and I'm so glad I got to hear you say that before Papa sends you away. I'll be waiting for you when you return."

Gabriela and I made desperate, passionate love that night. She pulled out all the stops. I too, gave one of my best performances, partly because I worried some other guy might get lucky with my girl while I was gone. I knew what she'd said earlier, but she was one of three females in the encampment, with over three hundred men.

I spent the morning making sure the others on my team were up to speed on my project, which was a delivery system that would get to all the soil, while not harming existing plants. I had a nice, but subdued dinner with Gabby, and later Raul came by to chat.

"Gabby tells me," he got right to it, as always, "You've had a good talk about the future. That warms my heart, Steeben." I nodded. We spoke of the work in Arizona. Raul brought me up to speed on one of the better chemists there, who only that day had reported a possible breakthrough. There was a chance that by the time I arrived in two days, we might have a chemical to work with. If so, I'd have to modify my delivery system.

After her father left, Gabby and I enjoyed a subdued evening. She cuddled into me on the sofa, after helping me pack.

"You better not find some other woman down there," she said as a joke, but I knew her well enough by now. She was worried.

"You're kidding right?" I answered lightheartedly. "I don't want some hot lady's murder on my hands! I know what would happen to her when you found out."

She giggled, but she was also concerned, and probably more about me than some love interest. After all, she'd been my protector for several months already.

When the security men lightly knocked on the door at two in the morning, Gabby accompanied me to the SUV and hugged me tightly.

"I love you, mister," she had unshed tears awaiting their release. "Please be careful and take care of yourself, Steve. I'll miss you, and I'll be right here when you come back."

For security reasons, I still wasn't allowed to use a cellular device or landline. We would not have any communication at all, except maybe by third-party message. It was an incentive to finish the work and get back to Oklahoma.

>>>>

Dr. Philip Restor - Phil, as he demanded we call him - had almost unlocked the code by the time I arrived. After a decent meal, and going over a couple of hours of security protocol, I was able to sit with Phil over a beer and get to know him.

"What I've discovered is nothing short of amazing," he told me with enthusiasm. "You know, Raul will be happy that we've found the answers, but he'll be a little sad, I suspect."

"Why mixed feelings?" I asked.

"Because," he replied, "he's always thought the diagnosis had something to do with cloud seeding. It turns out, at least in part, that may be the cure."

I listened intently because I was a scientist, but also because this project had implications to help an awful lot of people. I found pride in myself that I hadn't felt in some time.

"Do you remember, back in the early twenties," he began. "All the whoop-la over Bill Yates, and his group of food scientists? The coating chemical they called "Repeal?"

I did remember. Sarah was the queen of organic produce. Every time we were at the grocery and I wandered in the direction of the 'regular' fruits and veggies, she always hauled me in. I waved for Phil to go on as I came back from memory lane.

"Raul," he continued, "always suspected some phantom chemical mixed in with the Silver iodine, because he couldn't understand how iodine released into the upper atmosphere, could end up as silver dioxide in the soil. I think I've figured that out. We'll need to run some tests, of course. The dry ice, attached a molecule to the silver, naturally. It had to do with altitude, not a phantom chemical."

My area of expertise was quite different, but I understood chemistry in my sleep. Dry ice was carbon dioxide. If Phil's molecule theory held water, it would explain a lot.

"And how's that related to the soil issues?" I was becoming more curious by the second.

In a harmful way," he went on. "It doesn't. The silver dioxide, as it fell to earth, interacted with one or more of the polymers in the Repeal. You know what mono- and diglycerides are, right?" Of course, I did. "And you understand the role they play in keeping oil and fat from separating? Well, that same process is undoing the natural cellular structure of soybean and canola. It's doing the same, to a lesser degree to other porous fruits and vegetables, like leafy greens, squashes, and so on. Remember, they sprayed the chemical in the fields, not after harvest. We've isolated the attaching molecule, Steven!"

"Do you know this for sure?" I asked, very surprised.

"I'll let you look into the microscopes in the morning." He said it with confidence. "The better thing is that I think I've found a way to remove the attaching molecule from the silver dioxide. If my team is right, and again, we'll need a good thirty days of testing, we can begin to deliver my compound right away."

That was stellar news! I'd have a month, with my team, to come up with some sort of mass delivery system. Then, something struck me.

"Wait," I said with some urgency. "If that product has been doing what you say, then we have proof the bastard and his rich cronies, have been poisoning people."

Phil shook his head. "Not necessarily, Steve. People have been consuming all the chemicals in Repeal for a long time. It's possible that by putting them together in one chemical compound, they could be more dangerous. I'm pretty sure the FDA and USDA would have discovered that during their testing."

I was far less confident. I'd have to look up how long Yates's product was in testing and the actual findings.

My mind raced in bed that night. I was overjoyed because if Phil was right, I'd have a short time, working with an entire team, to invent or re-tool a delivery system. That meant I'd be back to Gabby far sooner than I'd planned.

Then, I thought about Sarah for some reason. Over time, her betrayal and my stages of grief had waned. I started thinking about her cancer concerns. I thought about all the people who were contracting cancer and especially the differences between men and women. I'd have to pick Phil's brain about my suspicions.

Things moved quickly. The next day I was excited and quite nervous to view Phil's findings under three electron microscopes. It felt like I was in college again, working through a thesis, or an important project at Aspen. My feelings of self-worth grew daily. But that also caused a problem. I needed to work fast with my team of five, to discover a delivery system. We were in Yuma, in the heart of winter, so any mistake by me or my team could be catastrophic for the crops - crops that millions of people relied on.

I asked Phil about some of the risks, over another beer, six days after we first met.

"I suppose that will depend," he responded. "We've already lost three hundred thousand acres in the heartland. Half of the pacific northwest's potato crop has been affected. If we lose Yuma, here and now, almost every person living in the US will be without critical fruits and vegetables for six months out of the year. The only grace we have now, is the major produce companies are packing up in three or four weeks and heading back to California."

I considered his summation. "Hey, wait a minute!" I got excited. "Why aren't they having these problems in Salinas?"

Phil smiled, seemingly proud of my forward thinking. "Because California stopped seeding their clouds in 2019. And because the soil has far less arsenic in it. Salinas used to be an ancient ocean bottom. That's my best guess, but an educated guess."

Over another beer, Phil asked about my life. I'd mistakenly brought up my marriage earlier. I was careful not to recount everything. I didn't want him worrying about the feds while we were supposed to be saving the world. Well, at least saving the United States. I did tell him I was involved with Raul's daughter, Gabriela. He perked up.

"Ah," he teased, "you've got inroads with the boss!" We joked and kept it to three beers each. There was work to be done.

Later in the week, nine days after my arrival, we were commiserating. Phil's testing had hit a snag. The two largest growers had told us that we'd need to wait until they were gone, but that they would leave three of their top people in our care, to help grow test crops that we could experiment on. After all, the growers - all of them - had a huge stake in our success.

He continued to rib me about my time with Sarah. Phil was a no-punches-pulled kind of man, which was a rarity among us geeks. Reluctantly, I told him about our marriage, and how my time at Aspen went from bad to worse in those years. I held off telling him about the island and the trials, not due to wanting to keep it hidden. It was too personal and painful.

"You know, Steve," he opined. "If we pull this off, we'll be famous." That surprised me. While almost all scientists carried a great deal of pride, fame wasn't a driving force. He saw my look of distress.

"I don't care about that," he chuckled. "I was thinking of how the feds devastated the scientists of the last decade - even before that. However, I like to remember. Like a fucking elephant, I like to remember. It creates a great deal of perspective, as I'm sure you'll agree. Do you remember what led to the debunking of the climate crisis?"