April 3: The Middle of Nowhere (11 page)

"Yes. Now consider what that means. The government still has considerable land and it has all sorts of stuff on the land. Courthouses, agency buildings, bridges and airports, the roads themselves and all the things in museums and gold reserves and things like vehicles and patent rights. It can parcel out the rights to oil and gas and metals under that land. Those things are all capital assets. If they wish they can put up a toll booth and charge you to use the road. They can charge you to go in and use the national parks or land on their runways, right?"

"Okay I'm following you," she agreed.

"Yet they chose to base the money on their credit. Not that I can blame them. If I want to have money loaned to me given a choice between putting up the
Home Boy
as collateral, or being given the same money just on my word I'll repay, I'll take the unsecured loan any day," he said. "So why should you trust the government to repay more than me?" he asked directly.

"Well, I know you're rich, but the government is so much bigger. I can see you going broke if you make enough stupid mistakes, but they are hardly going to go out of business!"

"And what is their business?" Eddie asked.

April looked uncertain. "Making all those airports and stuff?" she guessed.

"No, any of those things could be done privately. There
are
private airports and bridges and even toll roads. No, the business of government is to tax. They have an unlimited right to tax the future earnings of their entire population to meet their obligations. And that right to tax is backed up by force. They can send armed men to put you in prison if you refuse to pay your taxes." He waited and let April think about that.

"We don't do that," she finally said.

"Indeed, we are currently the
only
nation in which payment of taxes is voluntary. Some make the claim but when you examine it closely it is a lie. The only effective way to pay no taxes down below is to not make any money," he assured her. "Being able to tax means they can also borrow money against those future taxes and that is the source of more problems than I even want to get into with you today. If Home wanted to borrow money right now people would be insane to lend it. We have no assured mechanism for paying them back. No port fees, no entry fees, no tariffs, no income tax. When you get right down to it all the Earth governments are just as much a protection racket as any my relatives run."

"Ouch, that seems a bit harsh."

"Yes, it is, but think on it a few days and see if isn't true. Can you opt out?"

"Well, Gunny is opting out. He's moving up here and is going to take up Home citizenship."

"Did he get all his money out?"

"He got some help to get his cash money out, but he has real estate he wants to sell and he is going to pay the exit taxes so he is free to visit again if he wants."

"And if he didn't pay those fees to buy himself free?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, I see what you mean," April agreed. "He could never go back."

"He
already
paid tax on all the money he saved back when he earned it, so why does he owe them anymore? I bet it's a good chuck too isn't it?"

"About three-hundred thousand. A pretty good sized chunk, yeah, of what he owns."

"See, that tax is not on what he earned, it's a fee because he is removing that future income from their taxation. Hey, they have already borrowed against it. It's
spent.
"

"Wow."

"Wow indeed. And you will never see an economics textbook explain it that nakedly."

"It does sound pretty ruthless and ugly, the way you explain it."

"That's why I don't have much use for
professional
economists. If you were going to hire an economist how would you chose one?" Eddie asked her.

"Just like a pilot or a fabricator. I'd want to see their certifications and schooling and trade experience."

"You might find somebody with a
degree
in economics, but there are no certifications, no professional organization to issue them like engineers or architects. In reality a lot of people working as economists have degrees or experience in mathematics or computer science or even as working farmers.
You
could call yourself an economist and go into the predictive side of the business if you wanted and nobody could stop you."

"How did you come to know this stuff?" April demanded.

"My mafia uncles explained economics to me when I was your age. But they couched it all in their own business terms. It translates quite well believe me. A lot of the conflict between my family and government is simple competition for resources, not morals. The government used to oppose gambling of any sort for example. Now almost every state has casinos and lotteries. What is amusing is, the Mob would give you better odds of winning than the state."

"So what are you saying about economics? Not to bother studying it?"

"Not at all. It's good to know the language of economics and the history especially, but be skeptical. Don't fall into the trap of embracing a particular school of economics like it is a religion. Jeff is very smart. Ask him which school of economics he thinks you should study. I bet his answer will be educational all by itself," he stopped and thought a minute.

"I'd like you to look up how money is created. All money now is debt. If you go for a loan to buy a spaceship say from a USNA bank, the money is created right then. It isn't paid out to you from other people's deposits. There used to be requirements that the banks had to have funds to back what they loaned out. That has been nibbled away until it is just token amounts. And one last idea I want you to understand. Credit spends the same as capital. Make a note of that on your pad even. In time you'll see why it is important. It spends the same but you have to pay back the interest too. There is all the
systemic
difference in the world and lots of really smart people don't see the difference."

"Thank you, Eddie. I'll do that," she said taking notes."Maybe I'll look it all over and come up with my own theory of economics and gather disciples," she teased.

"Disciples? Make any sense of it and I'll
hire
you."

"Tell me what you think about Heather's moon project. Are you going to go there yourself?"

"Do I look crazy? They will be roughing it for months. I like hot showers and pleasant breakfasts in the cafeteria, not sani-wipes and boxed rations. But let me tell you about the rovers we found the Russians want to sell…"

Chapter 8

The Chinese military aide stationed at ISSII was startled at a rapping on his hatch. Most people did business over the com and he had very few visitors to his work space. He liked it that way. "Just a moment!" he called and looked over his desk and shelves carefully to make sure nothing of a confidential nature was visible. Then he shut his computer completely off. Turning just the monitor off didn't mask the emissions this machine could give off, betraying its activity.

When he answered the door his section chief was standing there with a
Laowai
right in their secure cubic. He bristled at the sight, staring, but was neither reprimanded for his failure to control his face nor given any apology for the foreigner's presence. His boss apparently had bigger troubles today than what upset him or if the White Ghost would be offended at his visible rage.

"Song Zhang, if we might have a moment of your time, do these have any meaning to you?" He thrust forward a multi-pane printout of  tattoos. They were oddly distorted in a way he'd never seen, but still legible. He looked at the White Ghost, unwilling to speak what he knew in front of him.

"We have need of your knowledge. Be assured you will not endanger anyone by telling us what these mean. The body on which these were seen is beyond the concerns of the living."

"That is – unfortunate,"  Zhang allowed.  "These are inspirational slogans common to the elite of special forces and usually tattooed with other images of unit banners and badges. Yes, I see the edge of one there. May I ask how we come to be in possession of these?"

"Traffic control noted an object slowly drifting away from the station large enough to be a hazard to navigation. When a scooter was dispatched to collect it they were surprised to find a corpse in a rescue ball. The discoloration is due to exposure to direct sunlight and the fact the pressure had bled off somewhat," he explained.

 "Rescue balls are only designed to hold breathable pressure for a few hours unless the person inside releases oxygen from the small canister attached to the inside. This person had been in the ball for something like six hours and was in no condition to activate the canister when he was put in the ball."

"You mean he was deceased when he was inserted?" Zhang inquired, surprised.

"It certainly looks that way. The ball was undamaged but he had three rounds to the heart and lungs of a large caliber pistol with frangible ammunition, an ordinary kitchen knife jammed to the hilt through a kidney and visible burn marks about his head and shoulders that indicate electrocution too."

"Was he in our uniform?" Zhang asked both sickened and alarmed, but hid it from his face this time.

"No, he was in European civilian clothing and oddly his hair and upper body were stained with coffee. The knife was Swiss. Does any of this make sense to you?"

"Not at all. But with those tattoos I can assure you he is
ours.
If you would acquire custody of him I will run his identifying characteristics through the military system and find out to whom he should be returned. Undoubtedly he had comrades and family who would want to know."

The supervisor just looked a question at the foreigner and he gave a nod of agreement. So he spoke Chinese well enough to have followed their exchange.

"That is all then. The fellow will be repatriated with our medical section in a few hours so you can conduct your inquiry," and they left without another word.

It was bizarre. He knew no special forces were present on ISSII. He'd be notified if one was even passing through to another destination.

Chapter 9

The letter from Adzusa was unexpected. April hadn't gotten an actual hard copy letter in a year. It was odd to think that it was probably more secure now than most electronic communications. The more so the way Adzusa sent it.

Jeff called her on com the very morning she received the package and informed her Adzusa had given him a voice call and after some uncharacteristic chatter, asked him to tell her to look carefully through the packing in a gift she sent because she had lost an earring and it might have dropped in the box or gotten crumpled in the packing. Neither one of them believed that. It was pretty safe to tell them since the package was already on Home and pretty hard to intercept unless their two long-time FedEx guys were corrupt.

While she had him on com, April asked Jeff to help her narrow down what he wanted her to know about economics. She pointed out the myriad schools of thought both classic and modern and told him if she studied everything available on the subject she could easily spend a decade and only have an overview.

Jeff suggested there were only two real schools of thought. Those who wanted the economy to be free to do what it wanted organically. Free to take a course that was the sum of individuals' decisions in the marketplace and those who wanted the government to regulate it. He asserted the degree of intervention was unimportant, because any intervention always progressed to full central planning as it failed to produce the desired results and more intervention was promoted as the cure.

"Other than that, I'd suggest you study the history of economics. When there were booms and busts and as much as you can see
why
they occurred. Sometimes reading old newspapers tells you more than the official propaganda. If you read the government agency statements there is a solid disconnect from what the job ads and prices in the papers tell you was happening."

The package arrived after lunch and was a traditional tea set. The markings said it came from Singapore via Tonga. When she examined the packing, however, the paper was a letter written out by hand on the big sheets of rice paper balled protectively around each cup. It detailed how her neighbor and Adzusa foiled an attempted invasion of her home by a Chinese team. She owed them for that. April could not figure what they hoped to accomplish by that at first, then she thought about the timing and realized they may have thought she was hiding out there when she was actually at sea on Papa-san's boat, but the attack in the cafeteria said they must know better now.

She also said she would send news of Papa-san when she had it and not to believe everything she heard in the news. That didn't surprise her at all. Gunny would be interested.

Leave it to Adzusa, the tea set could have been any expedient, but it was very nice too.

* * *

Some of Bob's companies April knew about. She'd helped him start a few. She had no real excuse to put off getting into the folders. The papers she spread out and started reading revealed he owned or kept an interest in some of which she'd never been aware. The meal delivery service, the company to buy the clothing of tourists rather than ship them back to Earth, she knew. There was a company that imported small gifts and chocolates for the absent-minded who suddenly remembered tomorrow was a birthday or anniversary and had no time to schedule a delivery from Earth. She knew of that but hadn't helped with it.

That company had started importing a limited selection of liquor and champagne as soon as shipping resumed after the war. It sold by delivery to your door only with no expensive retail store. The only bar in the habitat was the one in the beam-dog's cafeteria to sell liquor by the glass with no bottle sales. The closest liquor store she knew of was on New Las Vegas where the tourist trade was the main business. She briefly wondered if the new ship's chandlery would carry spirits? She never imagined she'd be in competition with Zack for any business.