Chapter 428: Chapter 199: The Cooperative
Bedford County, in central Pennsylvania.
This was a typical Republican Party stronghold, where vast farmland covered rolling hills.
For the past thirty years, the voters here did only two things: farm, and then cast their votes for Russell Warren, the man who promised to protect their way of life.
But today, the winds were shifting.
In the town’s barn meeting room, smoke hung thick in the air.
Ethan sat at one end of a long table, across from a dozen or so farmer representatives in flannel shirts, their skin tanned dark by the sun.
"We’re not here to talk politics."
Ethan got straight to the point, pushing a purchase list to the center of the table.
"We’re just here to talk business."
The farmers exchanged glances, their eyes filled with suspicion.
After all, politicians from Washington would come by every few years, snap a few photos hugging a cow, and then disappear.
It used to be Warren from the Republican Party, and now it was someone from the Democratic Party. They didn’t expect things to be any different.
"Pittsburgh needs food."
Ethan pointed at the numbers on the list.
"We have thousands of steelworkers in the South District working day and night, and an entire industrial park of engineers in Erie. The amount of meat, eggs, and dairy they consume every day is astronomical."
The president of the farmers’ association, Valentine, who was sitting across from him, picked up the list.
His hands were rough, with dirt still lodged under his fingernails that wouldn’t wash out.
"How much do you want?" Valentine asked.
"Everything."
Ethan’s reply was crisp and decisive.
"We want to establish a direct supply line, from your farms straight to the workers’ tables."
Valentine furrowed his brow.
"How are you paying? Do you have that kind of money?"
"No. Credit notes."
Ethan pulled out his phone and showed Valentine the note system.
"We don’t have that kind of cash in US Dollars. We pay with this."
A buzz went through the room.
"Are you kidding me?" Valentine snapped. "Trying to fool us with this stuff? This thing can’t even buy a gallon of gas in Bedford."
"It can’t buy gas, but it can buy other things."
Ethan opened the tablet he was carrying and pulled up the materials exchange list for the "Pennsylvania Industry Alliance Trust."
"I know what you need."
Ethan swiped the screen.
"Your tractors are getting old; you need parts. The machinery plant in Erie is in our alliance. They accept payment in notes, and their prices are thirty percent cheaper than what you’d pay at a dealership."
"You need fertilizer. The chemical plant in Scranton is also one of our members. They accept the notes."
"You need steel to repair your barns, asphalt to pave your roads, and even job opportunities for your kids."
Ethan stared into Valentine’s eyes.
"In this system, this note is more useful than the US Dollar. It’s backed by the productive capacity of the entire Pennsylvania industrial system."
"You give us tomatoes, we give you steel."
"That’s the deal."
"What is this?" Valentine asked. "Bartering? Are we going back to the Middle Ages?"
"It’s called an internal circulation."
Ethan corrected him.
"Or, to put it more simply, it’s our own people helping our own."
"Washington won’t save us, Philadelphia won’t save us, so we have to save ourselves. When the workers are fed, they have the strength to make steel. When the farmers get steel, they can fix their equipment. The money circulates among ourselves, without giving those vampires on Wall Street a chance to take their cut."
Valentine didn’t agree right away. He turned and looked at the other farmers sitting around the long table.
"Hank, what are you planning to do with those forty tons of potatoes in your cellar?" Valentine asked.
The man called Hank, a big fellow, crumpled the hat in his hands and said in a muffled voice, "The buyer from Walmart came by last week. The price he offered wouldn’t even cover the gas. I was planning on letting them rot in the ground for fertilizer."
"Fertilizer won’t fill your stomach." Valentine pointed to the note system Ethan was displaying. "I know this stuff looks like Monopoly money. We can’t use it to pay back our bank loans, and we can’t use it to pay the electric bill."
"Then why should we sign?" another farmer, who grew corn, asked. "I want US Dollars."
"Because US Dollars can’t buy you what you need, at least not right now." Valentine pointed at that farmer. "Your combine harvester has been out of commission for a month, hasn’t it?"
"The dealer told you they’re out of stock, that you’d have to wait three months and pay extra. But this kid from Pittsburgh says the machinery plant in Erie has them in stock, and they take these notes."
Valentine looked around at the group of men.
"Our barn roofs need to be patched with steel sheets, we need fertilizer for the spring planting, and our tractors need tires."
"The way things are now, nobody’s giving us credit. We don’t have cash on hand, and our suppliers won’t even let us in the door."
"But in this alliance, there’s someone willing to do business with us."
"We trade the tomatoes and potatoes we can’t sell for the steel and parts we desperately need. This is expanded production. Or rather, it at least allows us to maintain production."
"If this stuff rots in the warehouses, then we really can’t trade it for anything. It’ll just be a pile of garbage."
"So what you’re saying is, we take a gamble?" Hank asked, looking at Valentine.
"It’s a way to survive, at least." Valentine nodded, his eyes firm. "It’s better than sitting here waiting to die."
The surrounding farmers exchanged a few words in low voices, their initial looks of resistance gradually turning into reluctant acceptance.
This was their only lifeline, even if it looked incredibly precarious.
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