The Last Year
A story set in 2028, the final year of Trump’s presidency
PART I - The Dividing Line
Eliza Chen stood at her apartment window overlooking San Francisco’s skyline. The city had changed dramatically in the three years since she’d moved from Pittsburgh. New gleaming towers dominated the view—most belonging to AI and tech companies that had only grown more powerful since the trade war began in 2025.
She sipped her coffee and checked her smartwatch. The AI assistant displayed her schedule alongside a miniature feed of the morning’s economic indicators. The S&P 500 hovered around 6,500—slowly recovering from the chaos of three years ago but still showing the volatility that had become normal during what economists now called “The Great Decoupling.”
Her phone buzzed with a message from her brother Michael.
“Landing in an hour. Terminal B. Sorry for the delay,” it read.
Michael was one of the few family members she still spoke with regularly. The economic and political divide that had split the country had done the same to her family. Her parents remained in Pittsburgh, where her father’s manufacturing job had been eliminated during the reshoring push that never quite delivered on its promises. Her mother’s small retail business struggled with tariff-driven inflation. They blamed the coastal elites for their troubles. They blamed people like Eliza.
Eliza worked at NeuroVision, one of the many AI startups that had flourished as companies turned to automation to offset tariff costs. She wasn’t one of the executives making millions, but her $190,000 salary as a senior engineer put her firmly in what people now called the “tech aristocracy.”
“I’ll leave in 45 minutes,” she texted back to Michael.
She grabbed her jacket—a smart fabric that adjusted to temperature, made by a Vietnamese company that had boomed when Chinese imports became prohibitively expensive. The jacket had cost her nearly $600, more than many Americans spent on rent now. She tried not to think about that as she stepped outside.
The autonomous vehicle picked her up promptly. Few people owned cars in San Francisco anymore—the combination of high import taxes on traditional vehicles and the explosion of self-driving technology had transformed urban transportation.
“Terminal B, SFO,” she instructed the car’s AI.
As the vehicle navigated through the city, digital billboards displayed the latest unemployment numbers: 5.4% nationally, but with stark regional differences. The Northeast and West Coast hovered around 3%, while the Midwest and rural South saw rates above 8%. President Trump’s approval rating stood at 39%—slightly up from its lowest point in 2025 but still historically low for a president in their final year.
The highway offered a clear view of one of the massive data centers that had sprung up along the peninsula. These energy-hungry facilities powered the AI boom that had helped insulate California from the worst economic effects of the trade war. The contrast couldn’t be more striking—just three hours east in California’s Central Valley, agricultural communities were struggling with export losses and high equipment costs.
“You have one new message from Michael Chen,” the car’s AI announced.
“Play message,” Eliza said.
“Landed early. I’ll wait by baggage claim. Got a lot to talk about.”
That last part worried her. Michael had been one of the lucky ones from their Pittsburgh community. His cybersecurity skills had earned him a position with a defense contractor in Virginia, allowing him to straddle both worlds—the tech economy and the more traditional values of their hometown. He was her bridge to understanding the rest of the country.
Michael looked different. Thinner, with flecks of gray in his hair that hadn’t been there six months ago when they’d last met in person. He hugged her tightly.
“How bad is it back home?” she asked as they walked to the waiting vehicle.
“Worse than the news shows,” he replied. “The hospital where Mom volunteers had to close its east wing. No funding. Dad’s retraining program was cut again. Half the shopping center where Mom’s store is stands empty.”
Eliza nodded, feeling the familiar guilt. “And politically?”
“Even more divided. The midterms coming up are going to be ugly. People are scared, and scared people look for someone to blame.”
The autonomous car pulled away from the curb, heading back toward the city.
“How’s Andrea and the kids?” Eliza asked, changing the subject.
Michael’s smile returned. “They’re good. Kids are growing up in a weird world, though. Serena asked me yesterday if people in California speak the same language as us. That’s how separate everything feels to a seven-year-old.”
“And yet here you are, crossing the divide,” Eliza said.
“That’s actually why I’m here,” Michael said, his expression turning serious. “I got an offer from a firm in Seattle. Triple my current salary, working on quantum encryption. Andrea and I are considering it.”
“That’s… amazing,” Eliza said, genuine happiness mixed with uncertainty in her voice.
“It would mean choosing sides more clearly,” Michael said quietly. “Moving the whole family west. Leaving Pittsburgh behind completely.”
Eliza understood. In today’s America, moving from Virginia to Seattle wasn’t just a geographical change—it was a statement. It meant leaving behind one economic and political ecosystem for another. Michael would be seen as having abandoned his roots, chosen the tech aristocracy over his hometown.
“What does Andrea think?” Eliza asked.
“She’s torn. Her parents are even more traditional than ours. But she also sees the opportunities for the kids. Their schools in Virginia are struggling with budget cuts. All the best teachers are leaving for states where education is still funded properly.”
The car turned onto the elevated highway that offered a panoramic view of the Bay Area. Below them, the stark contrasts of the new economy were visible—homeless encampments alongside gleaming corporate campuses, immigrant-owned restaurants next to robotics labs.
“This is America now,” Michael said, gesturing at the view. “Islands of prosperity surrounded by decline. Is it any different on the inside?”
“It’s complicated,” Eliza admitted. “We live in bubbles too. Most of my colleagues haven’t visited a non-coastal state in years. We talk about ’the rest of America’ like it’s a foreign country we read about online.”
Michael nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
PART II - The Opportunity
The next morning, Eliza took Michael to the NeuroVision campus. The security was extensive—biometric scans, AI-monitored perimeters, and armed guards. Corporate espionage had become even more serious since the trade war began, with state-backed attempts to steal intellectual property a weekly occurrence.
“It’s like Fort Knox,” Michael commented as they cleared the final checkpoint.
“The algorithms inside are worth more than gold,” Eliza replied. “Especially since China accelerated their own AI program after the tariffs hit.”
The campus was a marvel of sustainable design—solar panels, living walls of plants, and water reclamation systems. Inside, hundreds of engineers and data scientists worked in collaborative spaces. Robots delivered coffee and snacks. Large screens displayed real-time metrics of the company’s AI systems analyzing everything from supply chain optimization to medical diagnostics.
Marcus Wei, Eliza’s team lead, spotted them and walked over. He was in his early thirties but already a senior executive after developing a breakthrough in neural network efficiency.
“This must be the famous brother,” Marcus said, extending his hand to Michael. “Eliza speaks highly of your cybersecurity work.”
“Thanks for letting me visit,” Michael replied. “Impressive security systems you have.”
Marcus laughed. “Necessary evil. We had three attempted breaches last month alone. Come, let me show you the logistics center. I hear that’s more your area of interest.”
They followed Marcus through a series of secure doors to a massive operations room where wall-sized screens displayed global supply chain data. Pulsing lines showed the movement of goods across redrawn trade routes that now carefully avoided Chinese ports.
“This is where we’re making the biggest difference,” Marcus explained. “Our systems help companies navigate the tariff landscape, finding the most efficient routing through friendly nations. We’ve saved clients billions by optimizing for the new reality.”
Michael studied the displays. “Vietnam and Mexico seem to be the big winners.”
“Along with India and parts of Eastern Europe,” Marcus added. “They’ve built entire new industrial zones to capture the manufacturing that fled China. Of course, the companies still have to deal with higher costs overall.”
“Which get passed to consumers,” Michael noted.
Marcus nodded. “For now. But that’s where the robotics division comes in. Want to see?”
The robotics lab was NeuroVision’s crown jewel. Humanoid robots performed complex assembly tasks with precision that would have been impossible just three years earlier.
“Our latest model costs about $25,000 and replaces three to four workers in most settings,” Marcus explained. “The ROI is under eight months with current labor costs. We’re deploying them primarily in U.S. factories trying to compete despite the higher operating costs here.”
“So the reshoring promise is being fulfilled by robots, not people,” Michael observed.
Marcus shrugged. “It’s the only way the math works. Even with 145% tariffs on Chinese goods, human labor in America remains too expensive for most manufacturing. But with our robots? Companies can make it work.”
Eliza watched her brother’s expression. She knew he was thinking about their father and the thousands of workers like him who had been promised a manufacturing renaissance that never materialized for human workers.
“What about retraining?” Michael asked. “I thought there were programs to help workers transition.”
“There are,” Marcus said. “But the completion rates are low. The skills gap is real, and it’s getting wider. By the time someone completes a two-year program, the technology has often moved on.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Eliza decided to change the subject.
“Marcus, Michael is considering a job offer from Quantum Shield in Seattle. Do you know anyone there?”
Marcus’s eyes widened. “Chen Wei is their CTO. Brilliant woman. They’re doing cutting-edge work on post-quantum security. If they offered you a position, take it. That field is going to explode in the next eighteen months as the Chinese quantum computers come online.”
“You sound sure of that timeline,” Michael noted.
“Our intelligence sources are solid,” Marcus replied. “The decoupling has accelerated their quantum program. They’re about nine months behind us now, and catching up fast.”
Michael nodded thoughtfully. “And the salary differentials between East and West Coast?”
“Night and day,” Marcus said. “Top security people here or in Seattle can command double or triple what they get in non-tech hubs. The demand is insatiable.”
Eliza could see her brother processing this information. For someone like Michael, with a wife and two children to consider, the financial argument for moving west was becoming difficult to ignore.
That evening, they sat on Eliza’s balcony overlooking the city. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the bay. They’d ordered dinner from a high-end food delivery service—$200 for sushi that arrived via drone in under twenty minutes.
“It’s a different world here,” Michael said quietly. “In Virginia, we wait days for deliveries sometimes. Supply chains are still unreliable for non-essential goods.”
“But you could be part of this world,” Eliza countered. “The offer from Quantum Shield would put you and your family firmly in the new economy.”
Michael sipped his sake. “At what cost? Mom and Dad already feel abandoned. If we all leave Pittsburgh behind, who rebuilds it?”
“Maybe it doesn’t get rebuilt,” Eliza said softly. “Maybe this is just creative destruction. New industries, new centers of power.”
“Easy to say from San Francisco,” Michael replied without malice. “The tax base in Pittsburgh has collapsed. Roads don’t get repaired. Schools are consolidating. The opioid crisis is worse than ever.”
“And what can you do about any of that by staying in Virginia?” Eliza asked. “The money you could make in Seattle could help support Mom and Dad. You could fund a scholarship program for kids from your old neighborhood.”
Michael was silent for a long moment. “I talked to Andrea last night. She wants to accept the offer.”
“That’s great!” Eliza exclaimed.
“Is it? I feel like I’m betraying something by leaving. Like I’m admitting defeat.”
“Or,” Eliza said gently, “you’re ensuring your children don’t have to face the same limited options you did growing up.”
Michael nodded slowly. “There’s one more thing you should know. The real reason I came to see you in person.”
“What is it?” Eliza asked, suddenly concerned.
“Dad’s plant is closing permanently next month. The robotics systems they installed last year are being upgraded to fully autonomous operation. No human oversight required. He’s being let go with three months’ severance.”
Eliza felt a cold weight settle in her stomach. Her father was 58—too young to retire, too old to easily find a new career.
“Mom doesn’t know yet,” Michael continued. “He’s been pretending to go to work, spending days at the library instead. His pride won’t let him tell her.”
“Oh God,” Eliza whispered. “What can we do?”
“That’s what I’ve been asking myself,” Michael replied. “And I think I have an answer. But I need your help to make it work.”
PART III - The Bridge
Three months later, Eliza stood in the doorway of a renovated warehouse in Oakland. The space had been transformed into what she and Michael now called “The Bridge”—a training center designed specifically for workers displaced by automation and trade disruption.
The first cohort of thirty students was arriving today. Most were former manufacturing workers from the Midwest, selected through an application process that had drawn over five hundred applicants. Among them was Robert Chen, their father.
It had taken weeks of difficult conversations to convince him to join the program. His pride had initially made him reject what he saw as charity from his children. But as reality set in and his savings dwindled, he’d finally relented.
Michael had negotiated a remote work arrangement with Quantum Shield, splitting his time between Seattle and Oakland to help launch The Bridge. His technical expertise and connections in the defense industry had been crucial in designing a curriculum that could actually lead to employment.
“Nervous?” Michael asked, joining Eliza at the door.
“Terrified,” she admitted. “What if this doesn’t work? What if we’re just giving these people false hope?”
“We’re not,” Michael said firmly. “We’ve got commitments from seventeen companies to interview graduates. Six have guaranteed job placements. The model works on paper.”
“Paper isn’t people,” Eliza replied. “Especially not proud people like Dad.”
The first vans were pulling up, bringing students from their temporary housing. Many had never been to California before. Some had never left their home states until now.
Their father stepped down from the second van. He looked smaller somehow, his shoulders slightly stooped. But when he saw Eliza and Michael, he straightened up and managed a smile.
“This place looks serious,” he said as he approached them. “Better be worth leaving your mother to run the store alone.”
“She’s not alone,” Michael reminded him. “We hired two assistants, remember? And the new inventory system is taking a lot of the pressure off.”
Robert nodded, though Eliza could tell he was still uncomfortable with the arrangement. Their mother’s small gift shop had been retrofitted with NeuroVision’s retail management AI, allowing her to compete with larger chains despite the higher costs of imported goods. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it had stemmed the losses.
“Let me show you your workspace,” Eliza said, guiding her father inside.
The warehouse had been divided into specialized training areas. One section focused on robotics maintenance—teaching workers how to repair and service the very machines that had replaced them. Another area was dedicated to supply chain logistics, preparing students to manage the complex new trade routes that defined the post-tariff economy.
“You’ll be starting in the security systems division,” Eliza explained, leading her father to a section filled with electronic components and monitoring equipment. “Your background in electrical systems made you a perfect fit.”
Robert surveyed the equipment skeptically. “This looks complicated.”
“It is,” Michael acknowledged. “But not more complicated than the systems you managed at the plant. Just different. And we’ve designed the curriculum to be step-by-step.”
“And who’s teaching all this?” Robert asked.
“A combination of professionals and AI tutors,” Eliza explained. “The system adapts to each student’s pace and learning style.”
Robert frowned. “More AI. Taking teaching jobs now too.”
“Actually,” came a voice from behind them, “we find the human-AI teaching combination works better than either alone.”
They turned to see Dr. Aisha Patel, the educational psychologist they’d hired to design the learning methodology for The Bridge.
“Mr. Chen, I presume?” she said, extending her hand. “Your children speak highly of your adaptability and problem-solving skills. Those are exactly what we need in this program.”
Robert shook her hand, looking slightly embarrassed at the praise. “Just want to earn a living,” he mumbled.
“That’s what we all want,” Dr. Patel agreed. “And in today’s economy, that means understanding how to work alongside AI and automation, not against it.”
As Dr. Patel led Robert away to complete his orientation, Michael turned to Eliza.
“This could actually work,” he said quietly. “Dad seemed less resistant than I expected.”
“Necessity,” Eliza replied. “He’s running out of options, and he knows it.”
“Like America,” Michael added. “We’re all running out of options except to adapt.”
Six months later, The Bridge held its first graduation ceremony. Twenty-five of the original thirty students had completed the program. Robert Chen was among them, having thrown himself into the curriculum with unexpected dedication.
The ceremony was small but significant enough to attract some media attention. A reporter from the San Francisco Chronicle interviewed several graduates, including Robert.
“What made you decide to enroll in this program?” the reporter asked him.
Robert cleared his throat. “My children started it. Didn’t have much choice but to make it work, or they’d never let me hear the end of it.”
Eliza and Michael exchanged glances, recognizing their father’s gruff way of acknowledging their help.
“And what’s next for you?” the reporter continued.
“Got a job with a security firm in Pittsburgh,” Robert replied. “Installing and maintaining systems for small businesses. Helping them compete against the big chains.”
This was news to Eliza. “Pittsburgh?” she whispered to Michael. “I thought he was taking the position in Sacramento.”
Michael shrugged. “First I’m hearing of it too.”
After the reporter moved on, they approached their father.
“Dad, what’s this about Pittsburgh?” Eliza asked. “The Sacramento job paid better and had full benefits.”
Robert nodded. “It did. But Pittsburgh needs people who understand the new economy. Needs bridges between the old world and the new one.”
“But your pension, your healthcare…” Michael began.
“Your mother won’t leave Pittsburgh,” Robert interrupted. “Her store, her friends, her church—that’s her life. And I won’t leave her. Besides, I’ve been talking with some of my former coworkers. A dozen of them want to enroll in your program, but they can’t all relocate to California.”
Eliza and Michael exchanged looks again.
“Are you suggesting…” Eliza started.
“Pittsburgh needs a Bridge of its own,” Robert said firmly. “I’ve already talked to three local businesses willing to guarantee interviews for graduates. There’s a vacant technical college building on the south side that could be perfect.”
Michael laughed. “You’ve been busy.”
“Learned from my children,” Robert replied with a rare smile. “This new economy isn’t going to wait for anyone. Pittsburgh can either adapt or keep declining. I’d rather be part of the adaptation.”
Eliza felt a surge of pride, mixed with something like hope—an emotion that had become increasingly rare in recent years.
“It would be expensive,” she cautioned. “The Oakland facility cost—”
“I know what it cost,” Robert interrupted. “I’ve seen the books. You two aren’t the only ones who know how to use those AI research systems. But Pittsburgh has advantages—lower real estate costs, existing manufacturing infrastructure that can be repurposed, and people with technical backgrounds who just need an update, not a complete retraining.”
Eliza looked at her brother, who was nodding thoughtfully.
“NeuroVision has been talking about opening an East Coast office,” she said slowly. “Something closer to the defense contractors in Virginia and Maryland.”
“And Quantum Shield has a government contract that requires some work be done in economically distressed areas,” Michael added. “Pittsburgh would qualify.”
Robert smiled more broadly now. “See? Your old man still has some useful ideas.”
One year later, in the summer of 2028, Eliza stood on the stage of The Bridge’s Pittsburgh campus—a renovated technical college that now hummed with activity. Behind her, a banner proclaimed: “Building America’s Economic Future.”
The audience was a mix of corporate representatives, local politicians, and community members. In the front row sat her parents, Michael and his family, and Marcus Wei from NeuroVision, who had championed the eastern expansion.
“When we started The Bridge in Oakland,” Eliza began, “people called it a vanity project. A way for tech workers to ease their conscience about the disruption their innovations were causing.”
She paused, looking out at the faces watching her.
“Maybe they were right. Maybe guilt was part of our motivation. But what we’ve learned over the past year is that bridges need to be built from both sides. The new economy cannot thrive as isolated islands of prosperity. And traditional communities cannot survive by resisting change.”
In the audience, she could see her father nodding.
“Today, we’re graduating our first Pittsburgh cohort—fifty-three people who now have the skills to thrive in the changing economy. Eighty-seven percent of them already have job offers. But more importantly, eighty-two percent of them will be staying here in western Pennsylvania, bringing their new skills back to their communities.”
Applause broke out, led enthusiastically by her mother.
“The economy that emerged from the tariff wars and the Great Decoupling isn’t what anyone expected. It’s not what President Trump promised in 2024, and it’s not what coastal elites predicted either. It’s something new—a hybrid that requires traditional manufacturing knowledge combined with technological fluency.”
She gestured to the building around them.
“This facility isn’t just a training center. It’s now the East Coast headquarters for NeuroVision’s industrial systems division. And next month, Quantum Shield will open their regional office on the second floor. These companies aren’t here out of charity. They’re here because they’ve recognized that talent and innovation can thrive anywhere if given the right support.”
As Eliza continued her speech, she caught her father’s eye. He gave her a subtle thumbs-up. Their relationship had evolved over the past year, as he’d transitioned from reluctant student to enthusiastic advocate for The Bridge.
“The dividing lines in our country remain,” Eliza concluded. “Political, economic, cultural—these gaps haven’t disappeared. But I believe they can be bridged. Not by pretending our differences don’t exist, but by creating spaces where we can learn from each other. Where Pittsburgh’s manufacturing wisdom meets Silicon Valley’s technological innovation. Where traditional values and forward-thinking approaches find common ground.”
After the ceremony, as Eliza helped her mother pack up the refreshments her store had provided, Robert approached with Marcus Wei.
“Your father has been telling me about his ideas for adapting our security systems for small retailers,” Marcus said. “He’s got insights our engineers missed completely.”
Robert looked embarrassed but pleased. “Just practical experience. These young programmers have never had to worry about inventory shrinkage in a real store.”
“That’s exactly my point,” Marcus replied. “We need both perspectives. Which is why I’d like to offer you a consultant position. Part-time, so you can still run your security business.”
Robert blinked in surprise. “Me? A consultant for an AI company?”
“Why not?” Marcus asked. “You understand both worlds now.”
As Marcus walked away to take a phone call, Robert turned to his daughter.
“Is this your doing?” he asked suspiciously.
Eliza shook her head. “Marcus doesn’t do favors, Dad. If he made you an offer, it’s because he sees value in your perspective.”
Robert seemed to digest this. “Three years ago, I was operating a stamping machine. Now I’m consulting for an AI company. The world’s gone mad.”
“Not mad,” Eliza corrected gently. “Just changing faster than ever before. The question was never whether change would come, but who would guide it and who would benefit from it.”
Robert nodded slowly. “Your Bridge is doing good work. But it’s just a start.”
“I know,” Eliza agreed. “But it’s a start we made together—Pittsburgh and San Francisco, old economy and new. That counts for something.”
As they watched graduates taking photos with their families, Eliza’s phone buzzed with a news alert. The latest presidential polls showed a dead heat, with neither party’s candidate breaking 45% support. The economic divides that had defined the Trump years continued to shape American politics.
“Will it ever get better?” Robert asked, nodding toward her phone. “This split country?”
“I don’t know,” Eliza admitted. “But I think what we’re doing here is part of the answer. Economic bridges first, then maybe the other kinds will follow.”
Robert put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders—a rare gesture of affection.
“When you and Michael first came to me with this idea, I thought it was naive,” he said. “But I’m starting to think maybe your generation will figure it out after all.”
“With some help from yours,” Eliza replied, leaning into her father’s embrace. “Bridges need foundations on both shores.”
Outside, the Pittsburgh sunset painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, casting a warm glow over the repurposed building that now represented a small but significant step toward healing America’s economic divisions—a prototype for bridging the gaps in a fractured nation.