Free The Dying of the Light: Interval by Jason Kristopher

Hacker. We just need a lot more of them.”

     
    “So, how much time does this aeroponics solution buy us?” Jennifer was pacing back and forth behind her desk, her usual routine when mulling over a decision. She looked across at Hacker and Shaw in the guest chairs.
    “A year, maybe a year and a half,” said Hacker. “If I get all the equipment I need, I can keep us in fruits and veggies indefinitely. We’ve got the seeds from that deep freeze experiment the Argentines were running, and we can make up the nutrient solution the old-fashioned way, from recycling what we need from the waste plants.” He sighed, shifting in his chair. His ample girth clearly exceeded the chair’s tolerances, but he was used to that. “And there’s plenty of vitamins and minerals in fruits and veggies. But even though this is good news—and it really is—there’s another problem.”
    “What’s that, Reuben?”
    “The problem is protein. Or rather, the lack thereof. We’ve been going through our stores of meat pretty quickly. We need to cut way back on that and supplement it with the aeroponics products.”
    “Because we can’t grow meat. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
    “Exactly. We’ve been rationing all along, but as I’ve been saying for a while, we’ve been too generous with the portions. We have to get more aggressive.”
    Shaw and Jennifer winced. It was a topic that had come up before in council meetings, but no one wanted to reduce their already meager portions.
    Hacker went on, “If we cut it down to seventeen hundred calories a day for the men and fourteen hundred for the women, most of that being from aeroponics, we’ve got maybe a year, possibly eighteen months left. Then we’re out of meat, which means our available calories will end up being half that, and in another two to three months we’ll all be too weak to move. Of course, by that time, people will likely have started finding other sources for meat.”
    Jennifer stopped pacing. “What do you mean? What other sources?”
    Shaw spoke up when Hacker wouldn’t meet her gaze. “He means the ‘long pig,’ Jen. He means other people.”
    Jen folded into her chair, her face taking on a greenish tint. “Oh.”
    Hacker went on, “Doc can tell you more about the medical consequences. I’m just a biologist.”
    “No, no, you’ve done great, Reuben.” Jennifer sat back and closed her eyes.
    Hacker glanced at Shaw, who shook his head. He’d seen this before. It was just another way she processed information.
    “OK, here’s what we’ll do,” she said, opening her eyes again and leaning forward, arms on the desk. “Reuben, consider your request for whatever equipment you need for the aeroponics bay approved.”
    Hacker nodded. “I’ll have the list to you first thing in the morning.”
    “Great. Bill, I want you to talk to the doc and see just how low we can make those calorie counts go before we start seeing ill effects. I want you two to work up a couple of rationing plans: one that takes us down to minimal levels but lasts as long as possible, and another that has Doc’s minimum recommended levels. We’ll present both to the council at the meeting tomorrow and see where we stand.”
    She stood up, moving around her desk. “Thanks, Reuben,” she said, holding out a hand to him as he stood. “Great work today.”
    He shook her hand firmly, smiling. “We’ll make it through, Director. No question.”

     
    All of the delegates from the various stations sat in the station’s movie theatre—the only space large enough to hold all of them. Jennifer waited for the murmurs and a few raised voices to subside, but when they didn’t, and only seemed to get louder, she knew she had to do something. Fortunately for a few of the more obstinate of the council’s delegates, she’d left her pistol in her desk this time. Still, she’d learned a few things growing up in Brooklyn. The piercing whistle reverberated throughout the room,