“Oh!” She smiled with a realization. “And thanks for volunteering yourself as Artemis’s unpaid, unofficial, import regulatory body. Of course, I’ll hold you responsible for any dangerous contraband in town, regardless of how it got here. So, if some other smuggler crops up and lets guns or drugs in, you can expect a chat with me.”
I stared blankly. She stared back.
“I’ll expect that slug transfer by the end of the day,” she said.
My bluster was completely gone. I stood from the chair and walked over to the door. When I reached for the door handle, I paused.
“What’s the endgame here?” I asked. “Once the ZAFO companies start up, what happens then?”
“The next big step is taxes.”
“Taxes?” I snorted. “People come here because they don’t want to pay taxes.”
“They already pay taxes—as rent to KSC. We need to change over to a property-ownership and tax model so the city’s wealth is directly tied to the economy. But that’s not for a while.”
She took off her glasses. “It’s all part of the life-cycle of an economy. First it’s lawless capitalism until that starts to impede growth. Next comes regulation, law enforcement, and taxes. After that: public benefits and entitlements. Then, finally, overexpenditure and collapse.”
“Wait. Collapse?”
“Yes, collapse. An economy is a living thing. It’s born full of vitality and dies once it’s rigid and worn out. Then, through necessity, people break into smaller economic groups and the cycle begins anew, but with more economies. Baby economies, like Artemis is right now.”
“Huh,” I said. “And if you want to make babies, somebody’s got to get fucked.”
She laughed. “You and I will get along just fine, Jasmine.”
I left without further comment. I didn’t want to spend any more time inside the mind of an economist. It was dark and disturbing.
—
I needed a beer.
I wasn’t the most popular gal around town. I got some dirty looks in the hallways. But I also spotted a few thumbs-ups from my supporters. I hoped the excitement would fade in time. I don’t want fame. I want people not to notice me at all.
I walked into Hartnell’s, not sure what to expect. The regular crowd were in their usual seats—even Dale.
“Hey, it’s Jazz!” Billy called out.
Suddenly, everyone “passed out.” Each patron tried to outdo the others with ridiculous displays of being unconscious. Some lolled their tongues, others snored with a comedic whistle on the exhale, and a few lay spread-eagle on the floor.
“Har-har,” I said, “very funny.”
With my acknowledgment, the prank was over. They resumed their normal quiet drinking with a few subdued giggles.
“Heya,” said Dale. “Since you forgave me, I figure I can just show up anytime and hang out with you.”
“I only forgave you because I thought I was going to die,” I said. “But yeah. No take-backs.”
Billy put a fresh, frosty beer in front of me. “The customers took a vote and decided this round’s on you. You know, to make up for almost killing everyone.”
“Oh, is that so?” I scanned the bar. “Can’t be helped, I guess. Put ’em all on my tab.”
Billy poured himself a half pint and raised it in the air. “To Jazz, for saving the city!”
“To Jazz!” the patrons called out, and raised their glasses. They were happy to toast me if I bought the beer. I guess that was a start.
“How are the hands?” Dale asked.
“They’re burned, blistered, and hurt like hell.” I took a sip. “Thanks for saving my life, by the way.”