* * *
Joe Wainwright had started out as the foreman of the group of construction engineers who’d built Grissom City. He’d been a loyal company man for years, working his way up the ranks. When the Earthers blew themselves to smithereens, he was the one that everybody trusted to pick up the pieces, and he’d taken full advantage of the opportunity. He was a rich man now, CEO of the conglomerate that included companies responsible for terraforming, construction, farming and food production, and even the medical services that were being used to populate the planet in the absence of adequate numbers of fertile females, but he hadn’t gotten rich by ignoring good advice. And this little girl was making a lot of sense.
“Sir, the guys that are feeding your computer its data are screwing you over. You say that computer analysis indicates that kweesh addiction is becoming a serious problem and that something needs to be done about it. I can see that, but turning off our water isn’t the answer.” Her big blue eyes grew wide, like a pleading puppy’s. “I understand that water for food is more important than water for kweesh, but there’s plenty of water. I was just there at the reservoir.” She shook a finger at him and he had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. “This is political. They want to shut us down just because of a few idiots who overindulge, but if you take away our water, you’ll have all of us on the dole. Kweesh isn’t just a luxury item where I’m from.” Her young face was sincere when she pulled on the collar of her windbreaker. “Kweesh fabric.” She pointed at one of the chairs in his office. “Kweeshwood.” She sat back in the chair and he smiled. He couldn’t help it. She was just so cute. “It’s how we make our living. It’s how we pay for the things we can’t make ourselves. My dad knows that. He was just trying to save us all. How many people are living in the Central Drylands now, Mister Wainwright? Do you know how many lives your company’s irrigation strategy will destroy?”
Joe looked at the girl, impressed by her eloquence. Then he picked up his phone. “Sam? Yeah. Joe here. Let the Klump guy go, Sam. I’m not pressing charges.”