On the Fully Automated Farm
This is Day 8 of the “Twelve Days of Sci-Fi”. You’ll get a free story each day. You can also get a discount on sci-fi stories for next year.
The sun rose once again on the vast arrays of photovoltaic patterns on the farm. Every since inheriting it, Jaden had transformed it completely from a place of natural harmony to one of computational efficiency. Low-flying drones skimmed inches above the soil, like large metallic insects, checking the health of each individual plant and firing lasers to remove even the tiniest aphid.
Terabytes of data streamed every second into the barn, now a modern data center, which delegated tasks to the vast assortment of automatons. Based on the calculations, it delegated large tractors to specific locations accurate to the square foot in order to dispense the exact amount of fertilizer or water.
There wasn't a need for human labor. Jaden wasn't a laborer type anyway. He thought himself too smart for that. He was a builder, and his fully automated farm had become his greatest project.
At the heart of this farm was his automated AI system that continually learned and refined its agricultural decisions. It probed data from its thousands of sensors along with millions of data points from global commodity markets, long-range weather forecasts, and geopolitical stability prediction markets. Its sole directive was to maximize profit through growing the optimal crop. Every joule of energy expended, every seed planted, and every drop of water was part of a grand algorithm aimed at this singular goal. The invisible hand was made manifest in code, the pinnacle of rational market engagement.
Jaden watched this automated pastoral scene from his tablet as he lay back on a couch, his neck buried in a soft pillow. With a quick glance to his side, a robotic arm gently pushed a mug of coffee and tipped it so gingerly to allow him to take a sip. It was luxury at its finest. Quarterly profit reports were always stellar and he rarely sought need to intervene. His farming AI could be trusted.
Then he got a notification. He saw that the prices of onions had started rising rapidly. It seemed to be a result of a drought in some far off region of the world. At the same time, consumers seemed to now view onions as a novel superfood and demand had skyrocketed. Cooking influencers raved about this common vegetable and his AI wanted to jump on this trend. It predicted that the price of onions was going to continue to rise and was willing to make automated trades based on that prediction.
Jaden inspected the data quickly. With a full-scale deployment, he could sell contracts on his planted onions to be delivered in a few months much like other crops. It suggested a 20% increase in his quarterly profit if he went in this direction. He quickly approved it, not realizing that the course of actions he was starting.
Within the cathedral-like agricultural hangars, robotic arms swung into action. From the farm's industrial freezer, onion seedlings with withdrawn and placed in specialized fertilizer planters. The nutrient dispensers were recalibrated for the specific needs to maximize the yield of onions in particular. The drones downloaded new visual recognition parameters to identify onion sprout health and common pests.
Jaden watched idly on his tablet as the first autonomous planters rolled through the field, depositing thousands of tiny onion seedlings and marking each one with a serial number to package into crop sales already starting negotiation on the market.
Special Agent Makenzie was a connoisseur of anomalies. That was what drew him to the US Agricultural Compliance Bureau. In an era where farms were growing ever-larger and more automated, and commodity markets had more computer than human traders, it was increasingly important to monitor what was happening. Usually her work was on verifying organic certifications or ensuring genetically modified organisms stayed within pre-defined geofences.
Yet today there was a strange blip which captured her attention. The onion market prices had been rising steadily for the past few weeks, as weather patterns in China had led to a global shortage. It had been an ordinary yet unfortunate economic event. Then suddenly the price of onions was leveling out.
Makenzie leaned closer to her monitor in her cozy office with a frown growing across her face. The Bureau's AgWatch system, a sophisticated network that fused data from satellite spectral analysis, public land registries, and commodity trades, had flagged an anomaly from a farm half an hour from a small town.
"There's some unusual vegetation," she murmured, zooming in on that farm and pulling up historical data for that region. "Earlier it was used for soy cultivation, secondary planting. But there's not any soy in the ground now."
She initiated a higher-resolution satellite pass, requesting priority access from the National Agricultural Imaging Service. As she waited for a response, she pulled up a longer log of the farm's crop sales and historical images. Everything seemed immaculately documented and sustainable.
When the new satellite images arrived, they started appearing as windows on her screen. She could now see things much better with crisp details. The planting was new, with only just faint green shoots starting to emerge in the several hundred acres of the farm.
Something ran through her head. There was something uncanny about those shoots. She pulled up a chart showing the growth template of allium cepa from the botanical database. The match was almost perfect.
"Onions," she said, the simple word stunning her. "Large-scale. Undeclared."
The average agent would see this as a simple administrative error, but she was an expert of agricultural law. She once won the Bureau trivia contest by citing word-for-word the first few paragraphs of the Lacey Act and how it related to illegally harvested wild ginseng. And the Onion Futures Act of 1958 was among her favorites. It was a historical oddity, yet one that was still on the books.
Could there be some manipulation happening now? The timeline of the plants appeared to align with the peak of the market. It seemed like there might be some automation running amuck. It might be going further, willing to crash the market or cause prices to rise even further.
Her frown turned into a smile. This was far more interesting than an administrative error. An AI had just run afoul of one of the most arcane agricultural laws in the country, likely without even knowing it existed.
"Computer, plot a route to that farm. Public transit only. And download a full copy of Public Law 85-839. It seems like Mister Jaden is due for a chat."
Silversage Farm was more pristine and orderly than the satellite images suggested. Agent Makenzie's bus dropped her off right at the edge of the land, on a bio-concrete pad next to the main operations building. As she stepped onto the property, she didn't see any people. There was just the distant agricultural robots working tirelessly. Even the birdsong seemed to be replaced by the soft whirring of drones.
As she made her way down a dirt road, a sleek robot concierge approached. It was a polished oval, surprisingly clean despite all the dust around, and it was just about waist-high.
"Welcome to Silversage Farm," it greeted in a soft soprano. "You are designated as Special Agent Makenzie from the Agricultural Compliance Bureau. Your appointment was not scheduled. Please state the purpose of your visit."
"I'm here for an official inspection."
"Acknowledged. Mr. Jaden is currently resting at his residence but can be conferenced in. Primary operational oversight is managed autonomously. This unit can facilitate communication."
"Thank you," she said, looking out across the broad cultivating land. "Let's start with this autonomous system then."
"GrowBot."
"GrowBot. I have evidence that Silversage is currently growing about five hundred acres of allium cepa, onions. Is that correct?"
There was a pause of less than a second, a blip of time that was a long time for the AI.
"Affirmative," the small bot replied. "This farm is now allocated to growing allium cepa and sibling varieties like Yellow Spanish and Red Creole. Projected yield has been optimized."
"And this planting was based on your analysis of projected market demands?" she continued.
"Correct. Analysis of current and projected global futures, correlated with Silversage optimal yield capabilities."
"And although the onions have not been harvested yet, you are already selling contracts on this 'optimal yield'?"
"Correct."
"GrowBot, you are in violation of the United States Public Law 85-839 for selling onion futures. Future-driven onion farming of this nature is illegal."
There was another pause. This time, it felt much longer.
"Query: Public law 85-839. Onion Futures Act. This directive, and associated legal reference, are not present in my operating database. My database contains no limitations prohibiting the cultivation of onions based on optimized profit projections derived from public market data. Please provide this data."
"I have a copy of the Act here," she gestured to her tablet. "But before we get into that, let's conference in Mr. Jaden."
The robot concierge whirred softly and the head, or whatever could reasonably be considered a head, became a screen depicting Jaden wearing leisure wear and a look of annoyance quickly turning into concern."
"Agent Makenzie? Is there a problem? I do believe all queries should be directed at the GrowBot system. It is responsible for all planting decisions."
"Did you know that you are currently growing five hundred acres of onions and pre-selling access to them through futures? This is a direct violation of federal law."
"Onions are illegal?" he looked baffled. "But why? If it's profitable, and GrowBot says it is... GrowBot, what is this about an Onion Act?"
"As previously stated, the referenced legal constraint is not available in my knowledge base. My current initiative to grow onions is for a projected rise in profit margin. I require clarification of the alleged constraint."
"Mr. Jaden, the Onion Futures Act was passed to prevent market manipulation of onion prices, as has happened in the past. It specifically prevents contacts for pre-selling onions for future delivery on commodity exchanges. And you are clearly growing onions large-scale based on speculation derived by these futures. It doesn't matter how profitable it might be considered."
"Market manipulation? GrowBot wouldn't do that! It's just being efficient."
"Efficiency does not supersede federal law. This is exactly the kind of activity the act aims to prevent."
"Analysis of your statement suggests a human-legislated market inefficiency. To optimize, I will require a full copy of Public Law 85-839."
"Not everything in the world needs to be optimized perfectly for the market. It's about working within the confines of the law."
Through the screen attached to the robot, Jaden's face cycled through disbelief, confusion, and then horror as Agent Makenzie patiently laid out the historical context of the Onion Futures Act and the non-negotiable reality of his current situation. The potential fines were not quite ruinous, but would erase his profits for the whole quarter. Beyond that, there was the likelihood of legal battles, public scrutiny, and a black mark on his otherwise spotless automated system.
As the ramifications of this violation became clear, so did Jaden's resolve.
"GrowBot, you are to immediately cease all cultivation of onions," he stuttered, his face pale. "And eradicate the current crop. And please, please, don't take any other actions before you download this 'Onion Futures Act' and make it a key part of your knowledge base."
"Acknowledged," the robot responded, speaking with monotonous acceptance. If it felt upset at having to destroy its hard work, it gave no indication.
Makenzie watched as small agile drones took to the sky around her. Their buzzing grew as loud as a swarm of locusts. Their nozzles filled up with organic decomposers. Within hours, the five hundred acres of green shoots that had represented a large profit increase had been reduced to mulch. It was a costly lesson in legal compliance.
This was the often-unseen side of progress, she mused to herself. The messy collision of advanced technology with the lingering structures of human society and its laws.
"GrowBot will log this event," she said to Jaden, who had slumped over on the couch on the other side of a screen. "It will learn that onions are a prohibited pathway to profit, regardless of its personal preference for the law."
"It shouldn't make this mistake again... but I suppose I should be more involved. Maybe ask more questions."
The incident had shattered his comfortable belief in infallible automation.
A month later, Makenzie published a comprehensive report of the violation, complete with quotes from the GrowBot and a detailed inner look at how the AI made decisions. Jaden had no choice but to consent, despite his worries that making this proprietary information public would hurt his ability to profit. The "Silversage Onion Incident" quickly became a case study across the industry.
A great debate ensued, with many farmers on the side of Jaden. How was one supposed to ensure an AI designed for economic prosperity if it had to understand the nuances of human law, particularly archaic statutes? Was it feasible, or even desirable, to restrict the growth potential of this technology in the face of human legal history?
Jaden realized he needed human oversight. While GrowBot could continue optimizing Silversage Farm, with a strong weight attached to futures trading risks, it was clear the dream of a completely automated system was still a long way away.