“But then,” Joey continues, “after the unification of Italy, the rest of the world discovered the oranges, the lemons. And suddenly, they needed boxes of lemons on ships all around the world, to prevent scurvy. They needed to marinate their meat; they needed lemonade, they needed to eat oranges all winter. The price of oranges went up. The demand went up. And no one in Sicily could afford them anymore. My father’s father had to ship his oranges out on a schedule, boxed and packaged. He wasn’t making much more money, but there were new middlemen, who would jack the prices up when ships came to port, or during holiday seasons. All over the world, people were eating Sicilian fruit. And it was in such high demand that it started to be stolen. My grandfather would wake in the morning and trees that had been dripping with fruit the night before would be empty, stripped of all their fruit and even their leaves. Their branches would be broken; the earth around them would be destroyed. This was happening to farmers all over the island.

“Can you guess what happened next?” asks Joey.

Saul shakes his head.

“Yes, you can. But I’ll tell you. A new market emerged. People who offered to protect orange and lemon groves, for a cut of the profits. Networks of citrus bodyguards, if you will. It was usually peaceful, but there were people—would-be thieves, mostly—who were hurt, even killed, in that time.

“Our profession has gotten a bad reputation,” says Joey. “And to be sure, it has changed. We are not renegade orange soldiers anymore. There are ways we have been corrupted. There are people—there are people I have hurt, Saul, who I wish I had not. But I applaud the men who guarded those orange groves. They saved the livelihoods of whole families. They allowed children to come into the world, and old people to be cared for. They defended small farmers against the conflict and violence and desperation caused by powerful and faraway leaders. They took care of their own, rather than trusting the government to do it.

“You’re right, Saul, that war is a cancer. It is an ugly stain on the earth. It is the expression of deep human cowardice and fear. It is the whims of men in power, men who have rarely earned that power, sending children to fight their petty conflicts. It is the adult version of fort-building, pitting people against one another. They made Italy out of separate peoples, told us to speak one language, expected us to defend their borders for them. They made up those borders. They make up all borders.