W: The Planner, The Chosen Read online

  “Morning, sunshine,” quipped Pat in her usual sardonic tone, “Did you get all moved in?”

  “I did. I came over here to get some breakfast.”

  Pat motioned toward the line. “Go get it, and come back.”

  Kris got up and stood in line. Breakfast was a bowl of cold oatmeal with syrup and a plate with oranges. For a moment she was surprised to see that she was served with restaurant quality plates and bowls and metal cutlery. But after a moment it made sense—plastic plates and disposable utensils are bad for the environment.

  Taking her food she walked back to the table. The dining hall attendant brought her a cup of coffee.

  “So, did you have any problems finding the place?”

  “No, everything was really easy. Everything was great—other than the elevator being out of order. I had to take my boxes up three flights of stairs.”

  Pat stared at her, “Why do you think the elevator was broken?”

  “Because, I pushed the button and nothing happened. I couldn’t even tell what floor it was on. I was going to call maintenance about it, but they weren’t answering the phone that early.”

  “I’m sure the elevator is fine. It doesn’t open unless you have a keycard for it.”

  “A what?” Kris put her spoon full of oatmeal back into the bowl. Now it was her to turn to stare.

  “A keycard. What are the two biggest problems we are facing in America today, Kris?”

  Kris continued to stare as she silently retorted, “You want me to narrow all of our problems down to just two?” and wondered what this could possibly have to do with a non-functional elevator.

  Pat answered her own question, “Number 1, Energy Consumption and Number 2, Obesity….We use up all of the fossil fuels running elevators, and then we have health problems because we are obese. This is a ‘take the stairs’ kind of place. To operate the elevator, you have to have a keycard.”

  “Then why bother to install one at all?”

  “Because there are times when there are legitimate uses for the elevators. When FMPD officials come down from regional—or when Director Scott visits. I mean, obviously, he is not going to want to go up and down five flights of stairs inspecting a community, so he has a keycard.”

  “Obviously,” echoed Kris, although she was actually thinking that if any one person could benefit from a regular jog up and down several flights of stairs, that person would be Leonard Scott.

  “The only other exception would be if someone got really sick. The doctor here can give anyone a thirty day keycard for the elevator at his discretion. Other than that, we take the stairs.”

  “Good to know,” Kris forced a smile, “at least I didn’t bother anybody in maintenance with it.” She swallowed her last bite of oatmeal. “I saw a little fenced-off area with plants when I was coming in. Do you know what that is?”

  “Sure, that’s our community garden. This is a net zero community—we want to produce everything here that we need for this community to make it completely self-sustaining, and that means growing our own fruits and vegetables whenever possible. The garden is a huge part of our life here. Everyone volunteers to spend some time working in the garden.” Pat looked directly at Kris as she sipped her coffee.

  Kris met her look with a look of her own that said what she really felt, “Not on your life!” Her spoken words were more diplomatic, “I’m afraid I don’t have much of a green thumb. Every single plant at my house died; I don’t know whether I gave them too much water or too little….”

  “That’s what the community gardener is for. He’ll show you how to tend the portion of the plants he assigns to you. He’s great. He’s an old hippie; he has been supervising community gardens for years. And you’ll be amazed how great you’ll feel. Gardening is good for the soul.”

  While Kris was still considering this, Pat’s hand reached across the table to grab the arm of a man walking by. “Michael, I wanted to introduce you to the new woman working at FMPD.”

  Kris looked up to see a man in his early forties looking down at her. He was just over six feet tall, well-built and slender. His dark hair, streaked at the temples with gray, fell in soft waves against his forehead. He wore a short clipped beard; against his olive skin it looked almost like a five o’ clock shadow, but Kris could tell that his facial hair had been deliberately trimmed to that length. He looked at her with the deepest, most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen.

  “Kris Mitchell, this is Dr. Michael Linton. He’s the physician in charge of the FE sector. And since everyone here is required to have a physical within three months of hire, you’ll be getting to know each other pretty well.”

  Kris stiffened. She did not like doctors—she did not go to doctors. Her primary experience with doctors was selling expensive houses to them in her real estate practice—other than that she had no use for them whatsoever. And if she had to hear about one more thing that was “required” as part of her job, she was going to scream.

  “Well, I am in very good health, and I, actually, just recently had a physical from my own primary care physician, so I don’t imagine we’ll be seeing each other any time soon,” she answered coolly.

  “Personally, I’m always ready for anything physical,” Pat chimed in.

  Dr. Linton ignored both Pat’s coarse flirting and Kris’ coldness. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Mitchell. Let me know if I can assist you with anything.” And he moved on without another word.

  Kris did not utter another syllable as she sipped her coffee. Michael Linton was probably the most handsome man she had ever seen. For a woman who made her living on her personality, she was remarkably ill at ease with eligible men.

  “Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Pat whispered rather loudly—loudly enough that he might actually still be able to hear her. “He’s just eye candy though—he’s one of the weirdest people in this entire place.”

  “Weird, how?” Kris answered back quietly.

  “Just weird. He works all the time and stays totally to himself. When he first came here, we were all sure he must bat for the other team, but even the gay guys can’t get him to respond. He’s like some sort of really great-looking robot. But he is definitely eye-candy.”

  Kris finished her coffee and studied Pat. It had just occurred to her that Pat symbolized every trait that Kris detested in a member of her own sex—she was crass, pushy, overbearing, and overtly sexual with everything in pants. “I would so hate to be you,” she thought, but, instead, she said, “How about if we go down and take a look at that garden? You can introduce me around to some other people.”

  Chapter 5

  Kris’ weekend passed quickly, and the following two weeks sped by. After fifteen days of hearing how the American system of retirement for the past two hundred years had been a travesty, she now felt ready to go out and sell the Smart Seniors System. On the final Thursday of class, Janice announced that the last day would be a field trip to the new community so that the new Planners could see W for themselves.

  Kris liked field trips—she liked to see and touch and feel what she was selling. Besides, this meant that the last day would not be spent in class. On Friday, she and her classmates stood in a line in the parking lot of the FMPD building waiting for a shuttle to pick them up and take them to W. The shuttle was slow to arrive but Kris had wisely worn a pant suit and lower-heeled, more comfortable shoes since a field trip meant walking. When everyone had boarded, Janice took her place at the front of the shuttle as the tour guide.

  “Because W is a pilot project, the location was very carefully selected. As all of you probably know, Arizona was hit hard by the foreclosure mess of the last few years. Several years ago, the government began mapping the neighborhoods where foreclosures and strategic defaults were happening. W represents one hundred-fifty acres of what was once a suburban development just outside Phoenix. During the financial upheaval, many of the homes were foreclosed on. Many more owners chose to exercise strategic default to walk away from upside d
own properties. After a few years, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac owned the majority of the homes in this area. Of course, the federal government has owned Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac since 2008; so that, actually, meant that the properties are now owned by the U.S. Government. After the Retire America Act of 2013 was passed, Fannie and Freddie simply transferred title to all of the foreclosed properties in this subdivision to FMPD. FMPD then used eminent domain for the few remaining private residences so that we could have one block of land on which to build this premier community. Since we were building our community on the site of a previously-existing community, we did not have to invest in new infrastructure, which was one of our primary goals.

  “W is a net zero community. That means that we create all of the energy that we use on the premises. The community does not use fossil fuels—no oil, no natural gas whatsoever. The electricity is generated through solar power and wind turbines. The buildings are constructed with air-source heat pump water heaters—up to three times more efficient for producing hot water than conventional water heaters.

  “The buildings were carefully designed to be energy efficient—the walls and roofs have been insulated with a hybrid of three types of insulation for maximum energy efficiency—they utilize a combination of rigid board, plus polyurethane foam and net, plus blown fiberglass fill. Doors, windows, overhangs and barrier walls have been placed to create maximum shade, reflect sunlight, and encourage cross ventilation.”

  The shuttle had stopped at the main terminal for the commuter rail system. Janice ordered everyone out of the shuttle and onto the platform. “This commuter rail system was just completed as part of the transportation bill passed two years ago. How many of you have ridden it?”

  A few hands went up; most did not. Kris had never ridden the rail system. The idea of spending hundreds of millions of dollars to connect Phoenix and its surrounding areas with a rail system had never made sense to her.

  “A few of you have; good for you,” Janice continued, “for the rest of you, today is your maiden voyage, so to speak. The success of all sustainable communities rides—no pun intended—on successful public transportation. Residents of W do not have cars—no automobiles are allowed in the community. But what I want to show you today, first hand, is that with an efficient commuter rail system, no one needs a car. This train will take you all over Phoenix and Scottsdale for a fraction of what you would spend in gas driving.”

  Everyone boarded the train. It was clean; Kris thought it seemed rather small considering the amount of money that had been spent on it. Mainly, it was virtually empty except for the field trip participants. The train started and sped down its track while Janice continued to lecture about the joys of public transportation. About twenty-five minutes later, it came to a stop at a platform just outside the city limits. The class exited onto the platform. They were now in the desert surrounded by sand, cactus and mesquite—except for the asphalt road directly in front of them. The road was probably five hundred feet long, and it led to familiar fifteen foot-high white iron double gates. The gates connected to white iron fencing, also about fifteen feet high, which surrounded the perimeter of the community.

  “This is a short distance for us, so we are just going to walk it, but we recognize that some of our senior population might have a lot of difficulty walking from their units to the commuter train. We have a shuttle from the gates to the platform. All our residents have to do is call and reserve it. Inside the community, of course, the shuttle does not operate; this is, as we have said before, a walkable community.”

  The class trudged down the road to the gates. It was April, so the day was not really hot, but the 85 degree temperature coupled with the light breeze which picked up the sand and lifted it from one side of the road to the other, dusting the class in the process, made the walk altogether unpleasant.

  As they neared the gates, they began to read the welcome signs:

  “Property of the United States Government. No Trespassing. No Soliciting. Violators will be Prosecuted.”

  That was followed by a larger sign next to the gate:

  “Welcome to the Federal Municipal Planning Division—Section W Division 1. This community is the property of the United States Government. No Firearms Permitted! The following items are prohibited in this community: Box Cutters, Ice Picks, Sabers, Swords, Flare Guns, Flares, Pellet Guns, Axes and Hatchets, Cattle Prods, Crowbars, Billy Clubs, Black Jacks, Brass Knuckles, Kubations, Martial Arts Weapons, Night Sticks, Nunchakus, Stun Guns/Shocking Devices, Throwing Stars, Explosives. Residents and visitors are subject to search and seizure. Violators will be prosecuted.”

  “No firearms?” Kris repeated. “What about people who like to hunt?”

  “They need to find a new hobby,” Janice retorted bluntly. “We have a zero tolerance policy on firearms—no exceptions.”

  “But what about personal security issues?” one of the men spoke up.

  “W does not have personal security issues. This is one of the safest, most secure facilities ever constructed. That is one reason why we can have a strict no firearms policy—we have already taken steps to make sure that no outside predators can gain access here.” Janice had lined the class up in front of the gates. “How many of you have moved into your FE housing?”About half the class raised their hands.

  “For those of you who have, you’ve already seen this technology at work. Each of the FMPD properties utilizes this same palm-scan technology.” She pointed to the telltale box with its little red laser eye waiting to read someone’s palm.

  “These gates are locked at all times unless opened by a palm scan. As part of each resident’s paperwork process, you will scan the palm of each person moving in. Each planner assigned to the communities will also be able to activate the gate using your own palm scans.” She demonstrated by having the red eye scan her hand; the gate rolled slowly open, just as it had for Kris in her own housing.

  “Of course, the maintenance people and the shop clerks, dining hall staff and medical staff will also have access. Other than that, the only way a person can enter or exit is for one of the residents, or the support staff, to come personally to this gate and open it.”

  “Can a resident open it from inside his own unit?” one of the class members questioned.

  “No, there is no remote access. Access must be granted personally. All persons being admitted must be known to the person admitting them. This also keeps the community safe from predatory animals that might be lurking around.”

  “Since no one is allowed to have a gun, what is someone supposed to do if an animal, say a bob cat, does come down from the mountains and get in here?” asked Kris.

  “Call maintenance and stay indoors. That’s all anybody needs to do. Maintenance will have the necessary tools to deal with any threats.” The class had moved through the gates and was now headed into the community. Although it was larger than Kris’, she could see that the layout was basically the same. Each building had multiple stories flanked by solar panels. The buildings sat up against the street. In the middle of the housing units was a spacious area featuring grass, decorative stonework and desert plants. A canopy protected this space from the beating sun; iron benches with cushions had been strategically placed throughout the space. Kris guessed that this was the desert equivalent of the beautiful park-like setting she had noted in the brochure.

  “This is the common space for Division 1. You will see this area duplicated at intervals throughout this community. One of these parks exists for every two buildings. We expect that the residents will spend much of their day here enjoying each other’s company and the beautiful natural settings.”

  As they continued to walk, Kris spotted a familiar-looking fenced area with plants. “This is the community garden,” Janice confirmed her suspicions. “We want to produce as many of the resources that we use here on the premises as possible. The community garden is an essential part of life here—both in terms of food production and also the happiness and well b
eing of the residents.”

  They continued walking and came to the clinic. “One of the central features of W is the access to preventative, primary healthcare. We are extremely proud of our state-of-the-art medical facility. This facility will serve as ground zero for providing first-class medical care and preventative medicine to each resident. In addition to the other health care providers on site, each clinic is staffed with a pharmacist and fully stocked with the most commonly-required medicines for managing the health of a senior population.”

  A little beyond the clinic stood the dining hall. It was located just to the left of the community garden—for easy access, no doubt. Kris noted that the dining hall was much larger than the one at her FE community, but it was the same basic layout. Small tables and chairs filled the room; the serving stations were located at the end of the room. The tables and chairs were snow white metal—the table tops were sealed concrete stained to match the sand color on the walls. Each table featured a decorative white candle holder—wide enough to hold a pillar candle rather than a taper. The lower half of the walls was painted a sand color, and baby blue patterned wall paper lined the top half of the wall. Why did decorators always assume that baby blue was a good color for old people? Wall sconces bearing white candles completed the wall décor. The pattern was interrupted only by floor-to-ceiling windows on each end of the hall, which in addition to allowing light into the dining room, gave the occupants a stunning view of the sunrise each morning—if they were in the room early enough—and the sunset each evening. Overall, the dining hall was a pleasant, inviting place. The brochures had shown couples dining by candlelight; Kris imagined that at dusk, with all the candles lit and happy couples chatting after dinner, this room would take on a calm, even romantic tone.