On the one hand, that is a legitimate problem.
On the other, I’m not sure I could come up with a worse solution to that problem, even if you gave me a research grant and several years.
South-Southwest Greater Deregulation.
The problem element milled around, five yards away from the electrified wiring. Just a few inches short of the raised wire that denoted the area where the guards in the tower would shoot.
They all stared at Monica in desperate hope.
“Are you hiring?” some of the bolder ones asked. “Please, ma'am. My kids need to eat.”
Another spoke. “I need to work. I can’t afford m–*” cough cough cough cough, “My meds.”
“Brass-Balls” Bush grinned as he strolled beside her. “Isn’t it wonderful? The only crime they can commit is on each other! It’s self-policing. And they can’t get any drugs without passing a drug test and writing a two thousand word essay on why they need the drugs. And the hiring process is as simple as picking some of the willing up from the gate.”
“We need blankets,” complained one of the problem element. “Winter’s coming and we’re cold.”
“Sir…” said Monica. “I don’t think this is the solution to the problem that will get you votes.”
“Oh I don’t need to worry about that,” chortled Bush. “Anyone in the poor-sore ghetto is automatically a criminal! They’re not allowed to vote, any more. And the people who really care will be voting for me.”
Monica suppressed a shudder. “I am hiring,” she decided. “I need some housekeepers.” But what she really did was train them in covert infiltration and assassination techniques.
Something needed to be done about the status quo. Making sure that it wasn’t stable was all she could think of.
…which might not have been the best solution, either.
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