Mr. Wheat complained next. “But it could take them years to get their vaccine certified!”
Mr. Beef, the biggest loser in the blockade—and recipient of the largest emergency subsidies against the loss—amplified the point. “Our whole market could be dead by then. They’re starving!”
The Chief Advisor manfully refrained from observing that the Decktop Danceathon dancers had not only looked clean of infection but well-fed as well. He was curious about that, actually. In the opening days of the blockade, the CIA’s informants on the BrainTrust had said they should run out of food in less than a month, meaning that now they should be out in a couple more days, though later reports had suggested they’d figured out ways to extend the food supply. It shouldn’t make any difference; he could wait, wi
