The Plant Manager

Doug Donnan

Executive Editor/OMNI-GENRE+MAGAZINE!

donnan.doug@yahoo.com                                                                    

                                                    

The Plant Manager                           

                                              

 by

       

 Doug Donnan

         

          [ 2023 / Poco Madre California ]

   “So what you’re telling me is that you operate 

this whole multi-complex hydroponics project by

yourself?” the reporter asked as he flipped open

his little notebook and struggled to steady his

Bic pen.

  “That’s pretty much correct Mr. Cull,” Robby

replied confidently as he expertly steered the

speeding aluminum golf cart on a sweeping turn

around a veritable sea of towering yellow-eared

corn stalks. “This entire heliotropic government

‘Greenland’ project is my responsibility. We’ve

got it all inside here,” he said as he swept his

left hand skyward at the stretching emerald filtered

glass and photo-cell covering, “corn, beans, lettuce,

dozens of varieties of fruit, you name it and we

grow it.” This solar powered multi-field facility

will turn out enough raw produce to feed the entire

population of several third world countries.”

  “That’s pretty impressive by anybody’s standards,”

the wide eyed reporter sighed as Robby finally

slowed a bit to negotiate on to a cut off fork in

the narrow Astro Turf cart path. “But, you keep

saying ‘we’…

  “Robots!” Robby exclaimed as he pointed off in the

distance at a vast cornucopia of domestic and exotic

melons. “You see, I have at my disposal a veritable

army of robotic farmhands. Highly ultra mobile ir-

rigation distributors, or HUMIDS as I call them, a

tireless battalion of photo-tropic pickers, automa-

ton hybrid harvester tractobots, and on and on. And

the kicker is I can pretty much control them all

from right here in this solar powered cart!”

   It’s all truly amazing,” Cull said as he snapped

off a series of pictures from his cell phone.

                        [‘Later that day’]

     As the midday sun dipped behind the far off stand

and steeples of the Santa Ana mountains, the solar

plexi-glass cover of the enormous spreading facili-

ty was beginning to shadow over with a diffuse almost

opaque shroud.

  “Maybe we could stop for a bit of lunch or early

dinner. I think I have just about everything I need

for my write up on your Greenland Operation here

Mr.… say, just what is your last name anyway?”

 

  Robby was just then pulling up to one of the

ubiquitous elongated green and white striped field

sheds. He set the pedal brake on the cart and

turned to face the rotund, belly-rubbing reporter

seated next to him. “Just Robby,” he replied rather

curtly. “Lunch?” he now seemed somewhat miffed,

perhaps offended by the suggestion.

  “Yeh, you know…food,” Cull mimed with a childish

hand gesture to his pursing lips. “You do eat don’t

you? I mean you’re surrounded by the worlds biggest

smorgasbord for Christ’s sake. Don’t you ever sample

the fruits of your labor here…so to speak?” Cull

tried with an impish smile and a playful slap on the

driver’s squared and decidedly rigid shoulder.

  “Food…sustenance?” Robby responded indifferently

with a cold, steely eyed leer not unlike that of a

stalking panther. “We don’t require that sir. Perhaps,

that is why ‘we’ are now in charge!”

             

             _____ THE END _____