Harvesting Ashwood Minnesota 2037 by Cynthia Kraack Page A

put jeopardize Ashwood’s profitability.”
    Like many small businesses, we used private financing for major expenditures. The past two years Hartford, Ltd., had been totally self-sufficient and even the thought of dealing with debt management both bothered and distracted me.
    “In operations, we have no capability to train that many kids.” Magda looked my way and paused. I pulled out of my own thoughts to pay attention. “As we boost greenhouse growing, there’s just no place for untrained young workers. I’m reading that this program will focus on older urban kids with spotty work histories. These are the ones more likely to bring knives and drugs and a whole lot of problems. Ashwood isn’t set up to be some kind of attitude boot camp for troubled kids.”
    “I hear these kids might not be so good in school, either,” Jeremiah added. “We had a cook networking session this morning. Lots of talk about this youth deployment program bringing big problems out to the country.”
    “Are they sending out kids who should be going to detention farms?” Paul’s question quieted us. “Anyone know why these kids have spotty work histories? I hear about meaningless metro assignments like scrubbing sidewalks or sorting materials at the recycling centers. Some of these kids might be too bright to stay with that kind of work. Some might be thugs. I’d like to know more about their profiles.”
    “You’ll be our key player if any of these kids land here, Paul. You do well with the older guys.” I let the conversation rest for a few seconds, wished there was time to talk one-on-one with the team about this challenge.
    “I hear three themes coming through—there are significant unfunded costs to this program as well as a negative impact on our involvement with our local community.” I brought the discussion back to where we started. “Finally, even if we were assigned well-trained kids, we don’t have the work, the facilities, or the resources to assure their success here.” I looked around the table, saw agreement. “So how do we build our case?”
    “We use the Bureau’s labor ratios as a start,” Magda suggested. “We point to Ashwood’s past willingness to accept kids with educational needs.” She shrugged, a sage manager who had learned through trial and error how to work with a wide range of young people. “We’ve been a friggin’ pilot site for school programs since Jason arrived. No one can say this estate has walked away from helping kids.”
    Jason settled back in his wheeled chair. The hot weather sapped his energy. “I can work up data on how many community youth and day laborers’ children will be displaced by additional residential workers. If these kids need special assistance, we’ll have to push nonresident students back into community schools.” He sipped at his water. “Andre can reuse the financial model we’ve built for other grant applications to show what our school saves community districts.”
    “Ms. Anne.” The speaker on the table activated. “We are shutting down all data systems. We’ve been corrupted.”
    “Tell Andre to get back in here.” I turned off the speaker. “Lao, do you know anything about what’s going on?”
    His calm face provided no visual cues. This man claimed my trust through years of protecting Ashwood and all within. “We do have a problem within our systems. I’d rather not say more.”
    “We have backup data?” My fingers tapped their way across my data pad, entering a privacy code for the secured server Lao maintained for my use.
    “It would not be wise to open that system right now, Ms. Anne.” Lao raised his voice. “Use yesterday’s data tables, but do not open your secured data.”
    Hesitating with two digits left in my password, I looked up. Everyone looked at Lao, fascinated as he moved to his knees and then down to the floor as easily as a toddler sliding from an adult’s lap. He tapped his index finger against his lips and