RECRUITMENT

With his monthly pay P found stapled to it a large envelope. “Evaluation.”

One guy said in a deep and ominous voice. “Pink slip.” Said another to laughter.
Before P had got to open it a captain came up and told Paul where to sit then
joined him.
“Those are recruitment papers.” The captain said pointing to the envelope.
“You are being required to recruit three men for part time grunt work. That’s your
assignment for next weekend. Make sure the forms are completely filled out then
have them with you at the pick up point in two weeks.” That was the rote part the
captain had to tell Paul, he added, “Once you start recruiting for Agri-Corp that
empty column in your pay starts to fill up. That’s a nice feeling, Paul, to make
money from somebody else’s labor. So make sure the guys you pick are reliable
because that money will be your retirement in twenty years. Icing on the cake.”
That was very motivational, more money in one’s pocket and early retirement.
As much as he hated all forms of work now he shuddered to imagine how much more he
would hate it in another twenty years. He would recruit by selling the company
ethic, one that he shared, Money in Your Pocket.
“Why ‘two weeks’?” P was suspicious of this luxurious stretch of time.
“As easily as you and I were recruited it seems out in the field most people
have little interest in doing better and others when they hear the name, well,
Agri-Corp is just too awesome for them and they become afraid to serve.” P’s
captain who always had pat answers was honestly perplexed at the difficulty of
recruiting.
The bus ride was long, dark and restless, the flight was eastward which
meant loosing two more hours of sleep. He would not look at the material again
until he was at his desk Monday morning. He now shower shaved and dressed at
school on Mondays, he was having hard rolls and black coffee at his desk before
Mrs. Gladstone or anyone at the school arrived. Clear about who he could recruit,
males over 16 without police records, there was no hint as to the location of the
mission for the new recruits. P knew the general mission, half of everything they
did was security and what new recruits would be submitted to as well as some of
the jobs P once did were now done by his underlings. He was not about to attempt
to recruit his own next boss as the guy who recruited him had joked. Agri Corp
still used plenty of grunt workers, laborers and garbage men, he would aim to fill
one of those positions for the company. Security was also considered grunt work
because of the way they spoke.
When he went to stash the papers in the bottom desk drawer he heard
something familiar yet forgotten rolling heavily forward. The booze bottle felt
cold and unfriendly, he only closed the drawer again. He was a different man now
in only a few short months. The broader sense of himself, the risk and mystery of
what he was now doing and the hope to get out of his current job in education had
all worked to change P into Paul who was trusted, responsible and could carry the
extra burden. No longer the candy cheeks who could only go in the direction his
mommy and daddy sent him, with the help of Agri Corp he was taking risks for
himself and becoming his own man.
He did not even turn the TV on Monday after he got home. He opened the
slider on his second story apartment and looked at the surrounding town in a new
way. He had to draft people from out of this place. That was a daunting and
sobering thought. Those who he and the company most wanted, strong, skilled and
uncompromised, all those best qualified would be busy with farm related work,
truck drivers, carpenters, anyone with a thick neck. They were all very suspicious
of Agri-Corp for its wealth and power and the scandals and rumors surrounding the
company. Moreover he hardly knew a soul outside of school and his elderly
neighbors. He could not even pick up the phone to call the last town where he
worked, he had problems all throughout his history. Going seven years back to
college there was no one. Being an under achiever from a family of over achievers
the desperate thought that he must find a new line of work, a future where he
could thrive, one that suited him was a thought that had come to loom over him.
That night at the roadhouse the men in supervisor uniforms lording over a
bunch of stinking cans, making as much a month as he was he, the company
investment plan and the clincher was when they told him they take no recruit over
thirty. The intense military style training changed him, it made his mind
receptive to understand the indoctrination. Global maps lined the classroom, an
instructor and an aid presented to the class of 6 new recruits the geopolitical
reality which was the capstone, the vision, which guided Agri-Corp. American
management, a world wide body of workers, the aggressive purchase and development
of productive American land. All investment the company made were owned by
contract employees. Corporate direction was decided by a hierarchy whose selection
was based on merit chosen from the contract employees.
From his apartment he could look down Main Street and see the two bars on
either end, on opposite sides of the street. People hobbled in and never seemed to
come out. After school Tuesday he drove to the Social Services building which
housed the unemployment office and welfare. He sat in his car in the parking lot
and it soon became apparent that these people were too far down, too desperate and
hungry, if there was one character in there worth recruiting the rumor of a job
might get started and that would turn into a riot. Thirty-five percent
unemployment and he could not find someone to work. It was clear that like himself
he might have to find someone who already had a job. Who had a taste for money and
wanted more.
Lately Paul Pelter felt radiant in the mornings, sober, strong, invested, no
idle time for self destruction and it was the company and its training that did
it. Where once he trembled, in need of a drink behind curtain, now light flooded
his apartment.
In the lonely months preceding even when he was still drinking he had gotten
to know the town well from the outside, where people socialized, what churches got
what sort of turnout, the small local businesses still in operation. Many a
hungover Sunday morning were spent that way. At the town’s only gas station
workers had all the hours they could stand. It was almost all security, checking
that people had the right paperwork to buy gas, opening the gate, manning the
tower, or guarding the bankroll.
Now as he tried to find those recruits Paul made unsuccessful attempts at
conversation and was rushed out by security guards. Employers did not like him
talking to employees anywhere. By Thursday P was dreading he would have to take
the next day off from school, so far he had no recruits and felt clueless. He used
to hate the locals with their soup bowl haircuts and suspicious looks, he could
talk to doctors, sheriffs, or judges about official business and bar tenders and
bargirls, he did not know how to talk to people. Only those clearly below him or
above.
On Friday evening alone in his room in the Victorian boardinghouse the smell
of death and the odor of old ladies living next door began closing in. Still
racking his brain and about to resume his aimless drive when he saw the high
school lit up. It was a school dance and at that moment he decided to help
chaperone. Walking there the heavy repetitive rhythm of the music was heard for
several blocks, girls from the school most of them wearing white gloves and long
full dresses could be seen entering the gymnasium. Boys were loitering, smoking
and coughing in the shadows. Paul continued taking no notice.
“Do you have a ticket?”
Principal Pelter’s look was evident that he did not get the joke.
“I’m just kidding. It’s nice to see you here.” It was one of the old maid
teachers, around mid forties, no gloves, no ring on her finger. “I suppose high
schools are a lot different in California. It must have come as a surprise to see
boys and girls in the same building. You’re from California, right? Your year is
almost up and I feel like I don’t yet know you, yet.” She took tickets from
entering students. The students mumbled, ‘Good evening, Principal Pelter’ and he
mumbled trite phrases back, ‘Have good time, kids.’
 Iowa was different, the microcosm of the high school was in many ways like
every other high school but the little farming community had a feeling of shared
burden which the cities where Paul had lived and worked in lacked. City people
seemed more nervous and selfish, urban food lines often turned into riots, here it
was always calm.
“My year is almost up and I still haven’t reached all my goals.”
“Relax, you’ve done a good job. Everyone respects you. And off the record, a
lot of us don’t reach our yearly goals.”
“You know what that means?” He slipped now out of Agri Corp recruiter mode
and back to Principal. He gave the punch line, “Next year you have to set your
goals lower.”
She laughed a little too much and P had diverting thoughts in his mind. Here
the girls wore white gloves and wore old fashioned dresses to emphasize their
virtue. In California the trend was that the girls carried a special handbag
called a tote that held a small caliber gun like an antique derringer.
“I’m going to check on the kids.” It was best to step away, he was feeling
the twin temptations of sex with this woman or mentioning the opportunity of work
that as of yet he had not discussed with anyone. In the gym the boys and girls
were as segregated now as they were during school hours, only half the lights were
on and balloons were everywhere. The beat of the music competed with his heart as
he felt the vicarious tension of boys and girls eyeing each other across a room.
He walked up and down where the dance floor should be and after making a circuit
he filled with a overwhelming sense of magnanimity. He stepped out of the gym.
“Miss ah …”
“Miss Adams.” She filled in.
“Miss Adams, do you see a student here who can cover for you for a minute?
And do you have a pair of gloves?”
“Why yes, Principal Pelletier, what do you have in mind?” She selected a
girl nearby, Takeover. She produced cheap cotton gloves from a box on the table.
“We’ve got to show these kids.”
“I don’t know how to dance to this kind of music.”
“Me neither, we’ll just be careful.”
Becoming the only couple on the dance floor a cheer went up before the dance
was over some of the boys had crossed the dance floor to talk with girls.
“Thank you.” Miss Adams said “I haven’t done that in years.”
Paul led a quick egress. “Me neither.” Paul felt transformed but he could
not undermine his mission. He had to escape this moment and its implications. Too
old to have a feeling like this as a school professional, it was what he felt
daily when he was in the field. Clearly he was not breeding stock and neither was
his dancing partner, possible that explained why he did not miss his debaucheries.
Seeing the students like that gave him a clue to the solution of the problem
presented by his other job. “Good night, Miss Adams.”

Sunday was a football game, it was an intramural exhibition but trophies

were going to seniors and letters for the underclassmen. It was a celebration to
mark the end of sports for the year it was not required that Principal Pelter be
there and he generally did not attend functions not in his contract but now he was
on a mission. He wanted unhappy outsiders, lonely desperate kids, the punks, kids
smoking in the parking lot. He was going to befriend someone who he was sure hated
him, it would be easiest to recruit from the ones who reminded him of himself at
their age.

pt2

Principal Pelter, sober and not hung over could be a commanding presence,
the theatricality learned at grad school back in California, “Bring in the first
one, when he’s done escort him back to class. Don’t let him talk to the other
two.”
 Martin Kelly, a sleek nose ands trusting eyes, he looked Mexican in some
part of his lineage. His hair was not black or straight, most likely he was an
African American also, a few descendants with trace resemblance to the original
strain were still to be seen in these rural areas. He could not pick a negro out
in a crowd back home, the racial features were long lost.
It was a superficial interrogation, Pelletier knew all the answers before he
asked the questions, he just wanted to see how attuned this kid was, what things
he might lie about, if he was hungry or just bound to be a lump. A life long
townie, generations on welfare, Kel, as he was called, was only here because he
was with the other two. Paul felt confident, at least he had some potential
recruits to discuss things with.
“Security.” They waited, security was always slow and never too bright,
“Take him out this door, escort him to his class. The door was the one to the
hall. Security was a big service, it had the potential to employ everyone, no
disability ruled out some security job from watching people in person or on
screens to various forms of cryptography and eaves dropping. Kel seemed like a
potential security person. If he was smart enough to take a job.
The next kid, Mike Warner came from a family of displaced farmers. Those
people hated idleness and government support. When the employment possibility came
up the boy jumped at the chance and said he also had his father, brothers and
cousins who needed jobs, even part time. “I’m not making any promises.” Even with
one on the hook P felt it was necessary to angle him properly, “There aren’t that
many jobs and we can only fill one at a time.”
“Well, did you ask Kel? Because I don’t think he’s going to work out for
you.”
Not yet hired and he was starting out as a back stabber, that level of
nervousness was good to work with, Mike Warner would naturally be suspicious of
others and he seemed bright enough to suck up to those who would do him the most
good. P felt richly satisfied having scored himself his first lackey. “Stay out of
trouble and don’t talk to anyone on your way back to class. Go that way.” P
indicated the door where he would walk past their friend Johnnie. From the monitor
on his desk P watched him walk robotically through the waiting room.
“Get in here Mr. Miller.” P said loudly without shouting.
Johnnie slouched in. He was the one P wanted to recruit for his personal
satisfaction. The boy looking at the ground, making unnecessary sound with his
shoes, he was the one who reminded P most of himself, independent, arrogant and
trapped by the combination of a lack of opportunities and his parents expectation.
There was really nothing he wanted to do. At this boy’s age he had yet to discover
drugs or fornication and still saw alcohol as something for old people. Which was
how P felt until he got to college.
“Kel, Mike and you were in here before. I see you restored the Native
Village. Nice job too. But then we caught you smoking a cigarette in the school
parking lot.” P was now quiet, he wanted it all to sink in. “I know you’re their
leader. Not because you’re the only one who can afford a cigarette. Not because
you’re smart, Mike is the smartest of the three of you. You are leading them
because you’re not afraid, the others are afraid of me but you think I can‘t hurt
you. You have your entire future laid out for you and I can’t do a thing about it.
Your parents want you to go to ag college like they did but if you go to college
or not your future is secure. I could throw you out of school today and tomorrow
you would start the job you’ll work for the rest of your life.”
Johnnie looked up, “We all chipped in for that cigarette, Kel’s mother
bought it for us, we gave her some drags and the butt.”
“Sure, they’re poor, those people will do anything. I wanted to help those
guys and I won’t let you stop me. I offered them an opportunity on the condition
they stay away from you.”
“You can’t do that. You’re the Principal, that’s not fair.”
“Life is not fair, those boys and their families know that. You have it
already in the bag, life on the farm to look forward to, those kids have nothing.
You are the one who is unfair to them. Out of fairness, even though you don’t need
it, I was going to offer the same opportunity to you.” P had judged it right, like
himself this boy hated the idea of being in his parents’ work for the rest of his
life. It was neither compassion nor sadism that now motivated P. He just wanted to
see if he could do it. Had he learned enough in life to outmaneuver this boy who
was standing in for his younger self. P watched the seconds go by on the monitor
facing him on his desk. A few seconds more of holding his own.
“You can’t take my friends away.”
“You’re right and I didn’t. Even if I told them that hanging around with you
was a bad thing they could still do whatever they want. I can’t force them not to
talk to you. Could I force you not to talk to them?”
“No.” Johnnie said weakly, adding, “What is the ’opportunity‘?”
“Just a part time job. You probably wouldn’t have time to do it with all the
work you must do at home with your parents.” He did not have to turn the word
’parents’ into a wretched noise. Just his saying it did that for him. Just as
Principal and Parent were a terrible alliance John now had the chance,
opportunity, of using the Principal to pry him away from his parents.
“You’re offering a job for money, not food stamps or a grade.”
“Money, yes, money. You like money, you’re interested in money? A job for
money?”
“They say you can never get enough money.”
P contained his enjoyment of the moment. “There is some paperwork …”
“My parents don’t have to know about this, do they?”
“You’re sixteen, this is business and business matters are completely
confidential.”
“Good.”

By the end of the month Mr. Pelletier is buying the boys breakfast on Monday
morning after getting off the bus returning them from a weekend of basic training.
The boys shovel it in while Paul tells them lies about how he is racking up big
sales in the field using all his salesmen tricks.

The next week P could not believe the message left on his phone. Could it be
a prank? He receive no authentication message. Out of fear and respect no one
would dare pull a prank like this using the Agri-Corp name. A call to confirm if
made by Paul would be frowned on and he did not want to gain notice that way. He
was obliged to take it on faith. When the weekend came he did not catch his usual
bus to a connecting bus but instead drove himself to the destination.
There was unavoidable embarrassment, almost no one associated the jobs they
did or the tactics they were taught to use in the field with anything a gentle and
forgiving Lord would identify with but here they gathered for one of the largest
meetings of Agri-Corp employees anyone had ever heard of and it was in the temple
hall of a church. The company enforced punctuality and the room filled quickly.
The light dimmed, the wall began sparking and everyone took seats and became
still.
Some familiar looking plants began to appear on the video wall although the
ones in the presentation even when blown up to twenty times its size were more
perfect and more beautiful than any ever seen in the field by those in the room.
The title streamed across the wall then an enthusiastic almost irrational
voice spoke.

TRI-CAL & TRI-CAL II

The first farming revolution was Tri-Cal, this ultimate product of cross
breeding and molecular genetic engineering produced corn kernels the size of wine
corks and twice as many ears per plant as other corns. A true silo buster at
harvest time. Agri-Corp developed it and owns the genetic formula, no one else in
the world can grow it who does not buy the seed directly from us, and it’s not for
sale! The competition can not adapt it or a mutate it because the Tri-Cal seed is
sterile.
The Tri-Cal family of growing products will grow and out perform in any soil
but to unleash the awesome growth potential and to prevent rapid soil depletion
Agri-Corp recommends adjunctive nutrition formulated especially for busting down
silos the Tri-Cal way!
By the nature of any dynamically growing crop it is especially vulnerable to
fungus but fortunately this particular engineered growing product has its
bountiful yields locked in and extra production assured with the various
fungicides for your unique conditions and the special Tri-Cal requirements.
Agri-Corp engineers are working around the clock to incorporate fungal and
viral resistance to power punch future optimum harvests for the pending release of
Tri-Cal Generation III coming soon.

The wall became dark again. A single light beamed on a live speaker. A very
average looking man but one who spoke with unaccustomed knowledge. He seemed to be
someone more important to the company than the rest of the guys who filled the
seats.
He spoke.
P tried to listen and understand but his new self was like his old self and
if he was not active then to him the lecture became a backdrop to a dream.
Lights went down again and through half open eyes the changing slides were
like the moon shimmering over the speakers head. “Tri-Cal number two was
exclusively cultivated on Agri Corp owned farms. By adding to the corn genetics
genetic material from another grass plant, the banana, we had perfected “no-till”
corn. Corn plants as tall as banana trees growing from a mat and from every crotch
emerged first tassels and eventually a tremendous ear of corn. Like a tropical
fruit this corn grows year round and so is ideal for the frost free corn belt
through Michigan and parts of Canada.”
Pertinent images flashed on the wall as he spoke.
“Mature corn is on the plant year round and to keep adequate size the highly
vigorous stalks require constant thinning and with the original Tri-Cal’s
susceptibility to fungus constant spraying is required. Because number two is
grown from a perennial mat all plant culture for its development had to be
preformed by hand. The seed for Tri-Cal II is grown in a lab and not the field and
that allows Agri-Corp to boast about the savings on fossil fuel during
development.
“Tri-Cal II is deemed by Agri Corp management the perfect crop for a new
world that was emerging with the advent of global warming and the end of fossil
fuels. We have developed a miracle crop in time to save billions from starvation.
Because other countries do not recognize limited exclusivity of food stock
and seed germ as well as limits on the presence of genetic engineered food. And to
maximize the profits we can all anticipated, as well as for reasons of already
having the resources in place, also having had a bad experience with the first
version of Tri-Cal. The United States was chosen by our multinational food
corporation as the place to exclusively grow Tri-Cal II. The United State was also
deemed one of the most amenable places for the social revolution that was needed
to farm II. The corporate department of sociology projected an exchange of forty
to one. That is for every one farmer removed from the old fashioned mechanical and
fossil fuel based farm, forty workers will be in place since II requires hand
tillage.”
P perked up when the slide show put up a picture of the autobahn, he liked
European cars, in the background was the Agri Corp home plant which originally
developed synthetic chocolate from corn and soybeans. In Europe it was known by
another name. “Nazis.” P could hear someone whisper in the dark and he joined the
group chuckle.
The speaker cleared his throat, the audience settled and he continued. “As a
global multinational corporation Agri-Corp acknowledges but it will not allow
itself to be limited from growth by arbitrary customs or laws. The word
corporation means a living body and we are so recognized where ever we go. Like a
citizen with rights we will do what we must for mutual benefit and when our rights
are questioned we will bring to bear our army” - he paused, “ of attorneys. Our
Army. Agri- Corp employees never fear local laws or threats since it is the
corporation who takes full responsibility for their action. Like the civil rights
movement it is sometimes necessary to violate unfair laws in order to bring about
change.
“To modernize the United States first and then the world we must capitalize
on American’s unique amiability to social change. If that change is not in
accordance with legal guidelines we must first violate those laws to prove the
need. We can then move legally through the judicial system and by winning our
cases change the society.”
So now P and the other attendees were beginning to understand in depth the
purpose of the secrecy and limited access. It was nice of them to explain it all
after so long working under shadowy threats and coercion for their silence.
When it seemed like it was over, a typical load for indoctrination and
orientation, the speaker continued.
“It is against the philosophy of this company to subsidize abstract
research, or on a product that can not begin paying for itself. Thus the
introduction of generation one proved immensely profitable allowing us to move on
to step II. Labeling is still used to create resistance in people’s minds. In
today’s world that means the hungry, the starving, our customers who could be fed
by us with an enhanced and profitable product are being held hostage by the
politicians who only want to line their own pockets. But we are committed to
putting money where it will do the most good even if it means paying government
officials soliciting bribes who stand in the way of putting research to work. A
growing plant, a growing company, and yields that are proven.”
At which point the invited crowd in the church went crazy cheering.
Before too much of the momentum was lost the speaker continued, “The
preceding video display is information for public consumption, it is true, all
true, to a point but there is more and that is strictly in-house, information
exclusive to those here. As always, as long as you say nothing none of this will
ever appear in the news.
“Can you keep a secret? Tri-Cal III is ready and is scheduled to begin
preproduction growth in the spring at a selected site.”
The crowd again cheer but there was a sinister mumble in the back of the
crowd.
P was relieved, he was deep enough in this mess. He had to get out and he
had to move on. If he learned anymore he was afraid of what they might do to him
before letting him out. Somewhere cages were being constructed by non-contract day
workers.
“Strictly for reasons of climate the place we will be launching our
investment is eastern Iowa, along the Mississippi sea. Security resources are
already being focused there. Some of you, I hear the groans,” the speaker’s tone
became unhappy, “To feed a world one must occasionally inconvenience ones self.
When a decision like this is made it is made for the strength of the body of the
company of which we are all part. This world is our home, do not disparage your
place. It is temporary, in time we will see the world united and we will all carry
the same burden.”
Paul cringe at the thought of things back in town becoming cozy with all
that security muscle squatting down over little Iowa. He wanted to go home, to see
a beach and smell the musk and hear the roar of the ocean. Now he even wanted the
freedom of the lonely, alcohol driven, itinerant school administrator he once was.
“Men from Iowa, the company will ask something a little different from you.”
The speaker’s lips could be heard brushing against the microphone making a booming
whisper.
P shrank in his seat. Sometime it seemed disconcerting that this company had
no head. The corporate charter stated its mission is simply improve and encompass.
Every department had to measure up and the numbers were sent somewhere. Someone
looked at the figures, summarized them in black or red, not that there was likely
to be much red, everything was done so cheaply, don’t fly take a bus, or do us a
favor, buy this from your own money then work a twenty hour day. Separate that old
lady from her grandson and put him on a bus. Go to a foreign country stand inside
a fence and shoot at anything outside that moves. Working for Agri-Corp was never
boring, it was sometimes terrifying, often annoying and one of the most annoying
things was not knowing and wondering, who is in charge?
“So Iowans you are going to be happy hosts to some of your co-workers. Let’s
see your hands if you are from Iowa or have some knowledge of Iowa now or in the
past.”
P could feel it and see it all around him just as he felt it himself. He
looked around to see if there was anyone here he knew or knew him, or with whom he
might have spoken. There were eyes on him. “Maybe we’ll be roomies, put your hand
up.” An idiot two rows ahead spotted Paul. More reluctant hands started going up.
“It’ll be fun. Let’s see, I do have a list in my pocket. My number men tell
me one it twenty, so that should be fifty of you. I hear you. I know what you are
complaining about. No need to worry, you’ll get enough food credits.”