His face grew comically lugubrious. “Now, when people don’t believe in the Fed Fairies, they have to come up with some other explanation for where the money comes from. Like, ‘The Government.’ The problem is, governments always need money, and if they can make it themselves, well, people are afraid they will. And that they will keep on making more of it until it takes thousands of dollars to buy a ham sandwich. So, an important part of my new job is to convince the down-timers that Mike Stearns can’t just make more money whenever he wants to. That, instead of the government making the decisions, the Fed Fairies will decide how much American money there is, so they can trust American money to hold its value.”
Sarah, was always happy to play along with her father’s teasing of her little sister. “How are you going to make the Fairies happy so they will make more money and we can all be rich?”
“The more stuff there is to buy, the more money you can have without the prices going up too much. We brought quite a bit of stuff with us through the Ring of Fire, but to make the Fed Fairies really happy, we need to find stuff that we can make here.”
The rest of the evening was spent in discussion of production and levels of usage. In spite of the dry subject matter, or perhaps because it isn’t quite so dry as most people think when presented right, it was an enjoyable conversation, and even Judy the Younger had fun.
June 13, 1631: A Creek inside the Ring of Fire
David Bartley had a crush on Sarah Wendell; which he of course, would never admit to. This was bad enough. What made it worse, was that Sarah had a crush on Brent Partow; which, of course, she would never admit to. Brent and his twin brother Trent were David’s best friends, and had been since his family moved to Grantville in ninety-six.
Brent didn’t have a crush on Sarah. He was the second largest boy in the ninth grade. He was interested in football, all things mechanical, and recently all things military. Girls, as Girls, had been creeping into his awareness, but only creeping, and the Ring of Fire had pushed them back several steps. He was good looking, and enthusiastic in his interests, willing to share them with others and listen to their views, so far without regard to their gender. Which may explain Sarah’s crush.
His brother Trent, the largest boy in the ninth grade by about a millimeter and maybe a half a pound, acted as a governor for his exuberant fascinations. Brent would come up with a plan to make or do something, and Trent would come up with all the reasons it wouldn’t work. Then they would argue it out, using David, and lately Sarah, to act as referee and deciding vote.
The upshot of all these social interconnections was that the four hung out together, and talked about football, all things mechanical, and recently, all things military. All things military focused on the Ring of Fire, and the changes it had and would bring about.
Where the kids sat, near a small creek, the buildings of Grantville were hidden by steep tree-topped hills, as well as quite a bit of the sky. “Flat,” around here, meant any angle less than thirty degrees. If there wasn’t a building right next to you, it seemed as though you were in virgin forest never touched by men.
Sarah was talking about her dad’s new job at the finance subcommittee, and its importance to all things military. “Dad says that we’re going to be in trouble if we don’t come up with stuff to trade with the Germans.”
Trent argued almost by reflex. “We have plenty to trade, TV and radio, cars and microwaves. All sorts of stuff.” It was, after all, obvious that people from the end of the twentieth century must be rich in comparison to people of the first half of the seventeenth.
Sarah was not impressed. “Can you build a TV? What about a TV station? My Dad says ‘We have to buy food, and we are gonna keep right on needing food.’ We’re not gonna keep having TVs and so on to sell. Once they’re sold, they’re gone.”