Imagine life in the near future. A man resides alone in a tiny apartment. He would prefer to be married, but the State considers that antiquated institution “patriarchal” and “white supremacist.” He would prefer to have children, but he can’t afford them. Besides, his yearly carbon allowance is insufficient to cover another resource-wasting human being.
He has never owned anything. He rents his bedroom, his furnishings, and his meager entertainments. Each month, a digital account associated with his digital ID receives a number of central bank digital currency units. How much he receives depends upon the number of hours he works at his government job, how much the government values his work, how much the government taxes him for the privilege of using public infrastructure, and how much of his income the government decides should be redistributed to other citizens in need. After taxes, rents, utilities, and other assorted municipal, state, federal, and international fees are deducted from his earnings, he has little — if any — discretionary income.
If he chooses to save that income to invest in his future, the government informs him that his central bank digital currency units disappear within ninety days. If he tries to purchase something that the government has banned, he forfeits what he currently has. If he does something that the government deems contrary to his well-being, his social credit score decreases, and a fraction of his discretionary income disappears.
Every few weeks, a digital doctor (running on artificial intelligence) appears on the video screen in his apartment with a detailed list of all the “unhealthy” things he has done since their last interaction. He is informed that a portion of his temporary savings will be redistributed to citizens with healthier habits. His A.I. health monitor tells him that he must immediately report to the closest pharmaceutical distribution center so that he can be injected with the latest “vaccines.” Failure to do so will result in the deactivation of all electronic entertainment devices and a permanent mark on his social credit record.
He is unhappy, and because the State’s A.I. supervisor has detected his unhappiness, the display monitor in his apartment encourages him to find personal meaning by “joining the fight against global warming.” For a while, he does just that. He attends community meetings in his apartment building where government officials talk about the importance of “saving the planet” by “owning nothing.”
He chats with anonymous strangers (bots?) on the State’s social media platform, and they all agree that the sacrifices they’re making to save the world are definitely worth it. He wakes up one morning to discover that his social credit score has risen and that he has been rewarded with a few extra central bank digital currency units. Still, our future man remains unhappy.
Then one day sirens blare, and his apartment monitor flashes with breaking news: the country is at war. He listens intently but can’t figure out which foreign nations are attacking. The trusted news anchors tell him that peace, prosperity, and freedom are all at risk. He steps outside his tiny apartment to find other solitary renters fired up and talking excitedly about the battles to come. He walks back inside to find his A.I. supervisor informing him that he has been personally selected to protect the homeland from its enemies. For the first time in many years, our future man feels alive.
He soon finds himself in boot camp, where he enjoys regular exercise, discipline, and camaraderie. Six months later, he and his new friends are shipped overseas. Strangely, in all this time, nobody has explained whom they will actually be fighting. All he knows is that they’re at war with “the authoritarians” who wish to “take our democracy.” There is anticipation in his camp and endless talk of adventure. Then, when everyone least expects it, a thunderous swarm of drones attacks from overhead. Nobody has time to react. Explosions seem to come from out of nowhere. He sees the bodies of his friends torn to pieces. Then everything goes dark.
He awakes in a hospital severely injured, is called a hero, and is later sent home. When he arrives, he notices breadlines outside the government’s genetically engineered food distribution centers. He hears a beggar on the street joke that they should call them “insect-lines,” since that’s all there is to eat. He learns that someone else has moved into his old apartment, but he is offered a new one because of his military service. It is smaller and has even fewer furnishings than the one he lost.
He realizes that most of his former neighbors never returned from war and that many of the newcomers now living in their apartments look and sound like those people he was told to fight overseas. Nothing makes sense. His injuries torment him. He feels even more lost and lonely than before he went to war. His A.I. supervisor informs him that he has been added to a list of people considered “potential domestic terrorists.” Remaining on this list will make it hard for him to work and live.
Then, one day, his digital doctor asks if he would like some assistance in ending his life peacefully. “You can save others,” he is told, “by permanently reducing your carbon footprint.” In agony, he wonders, “How did we get here?”
The shortest answer to our future friend is this: governments abandoned sound money. They replaced gold coins with paper currencies. They made it illegal for ordinary citizens to conduct business freely and demanded that government-issued bills be used in economic transactions. Then they gave private central banks the authority to print these paper bills whenever they determined that doing so would be good for the economy.
Whose economy do wealthy central bankers protect — Wall Street’s or that of the working class? Although putatively charged with financial duties to maximize employment and minimize inflation, central banks function as market manipulators and money printers for overspending governments. By increasing the supply of paper currency, the price of consumer goods rises. However, the numerical price of stock market shares also goes up.
These capital assets do not gain any real value, but their rising prices give the illusion of economic growth. Many bad companies that would never survive in a free market become lucrative investment opportunities in fake markets. Easy money sustains companies that produce no market value. Who loses most in this artificial arrangement? The poorest people who have no stocks and only limited cash savings. They have watched the hundred-dollar bill hidden under their mattresses lose most of its value over the last fifty years.
Neither fiat currencies nor central banks have any functional place in free societies. Governments that manipulate the value of money rig markets and steal from the working poor. The wealthiest end up owning everything, while everyone else tries to balance life precariously on a tightrope of consumer debts, mortgages, long-term loans, and the growing prospect of insolvency. This world that financial and political elites have built is unsustainable. It is also a kind of economic slavery.
Because it is unsustainable, those who have benefited most from its creation will do anything they must to survive its collapse. A crashing dollar does not matter if those who control the financial system today control the central bank digital currencies of tomorrow. Gross inequality and rampant poverty do not matter if governments can convince unhappy citizens that climate change, disease, and war require them to own less and sacrifice more. Growing public anger does not matter if those with armies can censor speech, throttle food supplies, foment wars, and imprison dissidents.
Ponder this: how much of the story above seems foreign, and how much of it seems painfully familiar? Your answer tells us just how much time we have left.
Image via Picryl.
Two Storms, One Harvest
Every food crisis in living memory has been a one-shock event. The 2008 price spike was a commodity bubble. The 2020 shortages were a logistics failure. The 2022 grain scare was a war on one exporter’s ports. Each time, the system bent, adjusted, and recovered, and each time the experts assured us afterward that global markets are simply too big and too diversified to fail.
What nobody in Washington seems eager to discuss is that 2026 is shaping up to be something the modern food system has never actually faced. Two independent shocks, one climatic and one geopolitical, are converging on the same harvest cycle at the same time. Not sequentially. Simultaneously.
Start with the weather. The Pacific Ocean is currently building toward what forecasters now openly call a record event. NOAA’s Climate Prediction Center puts the odds of at least a strong El Niño near 88 percent, with roughly two in three odds it reaches “very strong” status, the tier reserved for perhaps three or four events in the entire satellite era. Every major global model now projects a median peak in Super El Niño territory, and most of them project it exceeding the 2015-16 event, which until now held the modern record. Sea surface anomalies were already brushing the super threshold in mid-July, months before these events normally peak. The atmosphere has already shifted into El Niño mode, and the event is forecast to crest in late fall and early winter.
This is not about “climate change.” It’s about the standard cycles of weather, and the cycle we’re currently in is one that has likely devastated societies in the past. We’re better prepared as a society today, but not all Americans are equally prepared.
Serious households have started doing the quiet math on their own. Grocery bills tell part of the story, and the forecast maps tell the rest, which is why long-term food storage has moved from fringe hobby to mainstream line item in the family budget, with established suppliers like Heaven’s Harvest seeing demand from people who five years ago would have rolled their eyes at the idea. That instinct is not paranoia. It is pattern recognition, and the pattern is worth walking through carefully.
Editor’s Note: Heaven’s Harvest IS a sponsor, but the warnings of this article are real and would be written even if we didn’t have a survival food sponsor. With that said, those who take advantage of what they offer can use promo code “Patriot” for 15% off.
The Fertilizer Clock Is Already Running
While the Pacific warms, the second shock has been unfolding in the Strait of Hormuz. The conflict with Iran turned the world’s most important energy chokepoint into a contested waterway, and the consequences reach far beyond the gas pump. Roughly a third of global fertilizer trade moves through Hormuz, and the disruption sent urea prices up 86 percent year over year by March, with a 53 percent jump in a single month.
The World Bank projects energy prices rising about 24 percent in 2026 and fertilizer about 31 percent. By its own accounting, fertilizer prices ran 35 percent higher in the first five months of this year than the same period last year.
Here is the mechanism the nightly news will not explain. Fertilizer is not a grocery item. It is a time-delayed input. The nitrogen a farmer in Iowa or Punjab could not afford to apply this spring does not show up as a problem this spring. It shows up as a thinner harvest six to twelve months later.
The World Bank’s own food security brief concedes that the effects of reduced applications earlier this season “are likely to become visible only later in harvest outcomes.” Translate that from institutional language into plain English and it means this. The damage is already done, it is already in the ground, and we are simply waiting for it to arrive on the shelf.
Now check the calendar. Six to twelve months from the spring planting season lands us squarely in late 2026 and early 2027. Which is precisely when the strongest El Niño in the instrumental record is forecast to peak, bringing its signature droughts to Southeast Asia, Australia, southern Africa, northern Brazil, and South Asia, the very regions that grow the world’s rice, sugar, and oilseeds.
The World Bank warns openly that a strong El Niño “could disrupt multiple crop belts simultaneously” on top of the conflict-driven input costs. Their baseline projection assumes the Middle East disruptions ease by autumn. What in the last two years of Middle East history suggests that assumption is safe?
The System Has No Slack Left
The comfortable answer is that global markets always adjust. But adjustment requires slack, and the slack is gone. Global cereal production is expected to decline from last year’s records even before El Niño does its work. The UN World Food Programme, hardly a den of right-wing preppers, is calling this the most significant disruption to its supply chains since Covid and the invasion of Ukraine, and its supply chain director put the stakes bluntly.
Today’s supply chain challenges are tomorrow’s hunger crisis.
There is also a political dimension that markets cannot price. When food gets scarce, governments do not behave like economists. They behave like politicians. Export bans, hoarding mandates, and panic buying at the national level turned the modest rice shortfall of 2008 into a global crisis, and analysts are already warning that import-dependent nations are the first dominoes.
The 2015-16 Super El Niño, a far weaker event than what is now forecast, threw tens of millions into food stress across Africa and Asia. This one is projected to be stronger, and it arrives with fertilizer already rationed by price and shipping lanes already contested by missiles.
What Joseph Knew
Scripture does not treat preparation for lean years as faithlessness. It treats it as wisdom delivered in advance to those willing to act on it.
Behold, there come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt: And there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt.
Joseph did not respond to that warning with a hashtag or a committee. He stored grain during the years of abundance, and when the famine came, Egypt stood while its neighbors begged. The lesson is not that famine is certain. It is that the time to prepare is precisely when preparation still looks optional.
Nobody who filled a pantry in a year of plenty has ever regretted it, and nobody standing in an empty aisle has ever been glad he waited for certainty.
None of this calls for panic, and panic is the enemy of sound judgment anyway. It calls for the same unglamorous prudence our grandparents considered ordinary. Keep some cash margin, know your local growers, and put real food in deep storage while it is cheap and available, because the entire arc of this story is that cheap and available is a closing window.
Families looking for a straightforward place to start can visit Heaven’s Harvest and use promo code Patriot for 15 percent off long-term storable food. The forecasts may yet soften, the strait may yet reopen, and we should pray they do. But hope is a fine thing to hold and a foolish thing to eat.
