Glass Sky (28 page)

“To make matters worse,” continued Tania, “sulfuring will destroy any hope of international cooperation. At the UN Climate Summit last month we started work on Pax Gaia. It’s a comprehensive plan for saving the planet. For using the shield we are building for the benefit of all humanity. If we value this planet, this exquisite museum of species and ecosystems…” The door burst open behind her. “…then Pax Gaia is our only hope…” Rough hands seized her shoulders, hauling her backwards. “We’ve still got a chance!” Tania cried out. “Don’t let them take our planet from us!”

With a crackle of electricity, ten thousand volts of lightning-strike agony blazed through her body.

Pain.

Such incredible pain.

Then darkness…

One day earlier

THE ARRIVAL OF the Earth return vehicle was important enough that Sharon gave everyone an afternoon off to watch it land. Finally, a way home. But it was with mixed feelings that Jie followed the crew up the well-worn trail to the top of the viewing hill. Sending us home is a mistake. I need to finish this.

Past astronauts had fashioned a crude bench on the summit, piling stones and covering them with a green fabric that looked as out of place in the monochrome landscape as the colored space suits. Jie explored the area, enjoying the rare free moment.

“Hey,” Jie tapped a football-sized rock with his toe. “What causes these patterns?” The dust extended in streaks from the lee side of the rock, and there was even a small dune, a few centimeters high at the most, but clearly visible in the low-angle light.

“Large impacts,” said Sharon. “They spew ejecta in all directions.  With no air to slow the particles, they only stop from surface friction.” She stood on the bench and lifted a basketball-sized rock above her head. ‘Here, watch.” Sally and Rajit cheered as she drove it into the ground. It sunk into the dust with an anticlimactic puff.

“Insufficient V for a proper demonstration,” said Rajit. “Try dropping it from orbit.”

“It was worth a try,” said Sharon. “Anyway, most of these craters were formed before humans crawled out of the seas. The solar system is much more peaceful now. Jupiter has sucked up the loose crap.”

Jie joined the others on the bench, taking the open spot next to Sally. Hurricane Martha’s pinwheel of cloud seemed to change every time he looked at Earth. Imperceptibly. Like the minute hand on an old clock. How can something so beautiful have caused so much destruction? But Jie’s attention kept returning to the landscape around him. Craters. Small ones on top of larger ones, dotting the land like chicken pox. The sense of age was overwhelming. Millions of years might pass when nothing moved in this land. And then, a huge explosion, followed by another million years of stillness.

Sally, pointed up. “There it comes. Our way home.”

A tiny white dot moved against the unwavering stars. The sight filled Jie with a profound sense of distance. This was the thread connecting him to home. To Cheng. To the millions of people who looked at the moon every night and prayed for progress. Soon the replacement crew will arrive. Then we’ll be gone, and the shield will be even further out of reach.

A shadow appeared on the edge of the landing field, moving towards the descending Earth return vehicle. As the two met, a cloud of debris spewed up, skidding dust and pebbles across the surface.  The ERV vanished from view, and then the dust dropped like a curtain, leaving the new arrival gleaming in the sun.

***

Jie stepped into the airlock and let the mist rinse his suit clean. Ripples of moisture ran down his helmet, forming weird fractal patterns in the low gravity. Neat shapes, really. They’re like the dust ripples on the surface. Patterns. Interference patterns? Dragon’s breath! We’re not calculating wave interference correctly!

Jie skipped his shower and ran straight to the workshop. He plugged in the VR helmet, and activated the particle probes. ‹Release tile.› He spent an excruciating hour of delicate work teasing out the details. ‹Release an iron. Now two silicons. Increase magnetic field 5%.› It’s obvious. As soon as you know it’s there, the pattern is obvious.

‹Open scripting mode. New program. Start with Earthcon’s Nanoglass tile synthesis procedures. Apply the following to all rules.›

He dictated a series of instructions. After three tries the rule code compiled. By then the engineers on Earth had caught on to what Jie was doing and were adding their own suggestions. Goggles on. ‹Run script.› Jie’s heart pounded as he looked at the first tile.

Nothing.

‹Come on, you dirty turtle! Why aren’t you working?›

‹You reversed a sign in step eleven,› piped several voices.

‹Yes, of course.› He applied the fix. ‹Run again.›

A tile appeared in the molecular tweezers. Jie zoomed in. Perfect! ‹Run again.› Again perfect. So was the third. The fourth and fifth were flawed. After checking 20 tiles, Jie put down the goggles and glided into the neighboring exercise area.

Sharon, Sally, and Rajit were on the bikes, cinched down by the shoulder straps, watching the unfolding hurricane rescue. The first Chinese troops were unloading at a Texas airfield. Chinese troops. In America. Not that President Juarez had had much choice. Over 3 million people had been in Miami when the storm hit, and the Florida government had been woefully unprepared.

Sally noticed him standing at the doorway to his workshop. “Good news?” she asked. “You ran through the hive like you’d discovered the meaning of life.”

“I just made a huge leap forward. I got 75% yield,” Jie announced. “Perfect tiles. I was at 20% this morning! No way an amateur from Earth can replace me now! We’re staying to finish the job!”

Sharon stopped biking. On the screen, a white woman in a ruined business suit waved for help from a floating pile of debris. A boy around Cheng’s age huddled next to her. “Jie, that’s incredible. And just in time too. The US media is hammering Tania Black pretty hard for defending the shield and not going with sulfuring. President Juarez is holding a press conference later today where she’s making a major announcement.”

Jie grinned. “I am not worried,” he said. “This storm may even be good for Tania. During the famine last year, only poor people were starving. Now rich people are hurt too. I think President Juarez will support Pax Gaia even more strongly. We all in this together now. And the Nanoglass shield can save us.”

***

Dog testicles. Is it that late already? Jie paused, hand back on the call button. He wanted nothing more than sleep. Months of long hours spent mostly alone in his lab had heightened his growing sense of isolation from Earth. And a day on the surface followed by the excitement in the workshop had left him exhausted. I haven’t talked to Cheng in a while, though. I should try at least. Maybe he’s still up.

Zhenzhen answered. ‹I’m sorry, Jie, he went to bed about half an hour ago. I could wake him…› Her expression showed that that was the last thing she wanted to do.

‹No, it’s OK. How’s he doing?›

‹He was at the zoo today,› said Zhenzhen. ‹We had a break in the dust storms. He went to see the pandas.›

‹The pandas?› That should be my experience. My treasured memory. Yet virtual parenting could only go so far. The spy games had lost their luster, even though Rajit had spiced them up with simple ciphers. Jie tried to mask his bitterness. ‹That must have been fun.›

‹I assume so,› said Zhenzhen. ‹I sent him with the sitter. Miami’s got me swamped at work. American digital memorial companies can’t keep up with that many deaths, so they’re outsourcing their overflow. It’s tricky, though. Americans have very different ideas of what images best capture the essence of lost loved ones. And they take endless videos of everything.›

***

President Juarez’s press conference happened in the middle of the night, Beijing time. As often happened with important North American events, the team had agreed to watch it together over breakfast. Jie got up early for his usual solitary morning workout, biked for an hour, did some resistance exercises, and then joined Sally in the kitchen. She was chopping vegetables for the evening curry while waiting for the oatmeal to warm. Jie took a cutting board and started slicing.

‹You know,› he said, pushing a stack of unevenly diced carrots in her direction, ‹I should cook tomorrow. I always end up on dishes.›

‹It’s fine.› Sally recut three of the larger carrot chunks, then dropped the pile into the pot. ‹You’re doing important work.›

Jie sliced a green pepper. It was one of the seedless varieties, engineered into a sausage shape to make it easier to cut. ‹We’re all doing important work,› said Jie. ‹And when I get home, I want to be a dad for a while. I should learn to cook.›

‹Why not make breakfast tomorrow?› suggested Sally.

‹But breakfast is just oatmeal,› Jie said. ‹All I’d have to do is boil water.› He caught Sally’s reflection in the pot. She was trying not to laugh. ‹Is my cooking that bad?›

‹Spaghetti shouldn’t clump into a ball.›

‹That was an honest mistake,› said Jie. ‹I blame the gravity.›

Sally laughed. ‹Fine.› Her hands slid over his and she stepped in behind him, pulling electrically close. ‹Pivot the knife on its tip, like this. If you keep hacking like that you’ll lose a finger.› She pecked his neck, then hopped away, grinning cheekily.

‹Tease…›

‹Flirt,› corrected Sally. ‹Teases don’t deliver. Wait until I get you to Earth.›

The porridge started spitting, so Jie served out four helpings. Everyone sat down facing the TV.

To Jie’s delight, Tania Black was the first to step onto the White House press podium.

“See!” he crowed. “What did I tell you? They announcing big Pax Gaia plans! I told you the world would unite!”

Tania seemed nervous though, and her words flooded out, disorganized. Not her normal steady delivery. It happened so fast that by the time the content registered two secret service agents were already dragging her off stage. Tania fought like a cat in a shower. “Don’t let them take our planet from us!” she yelled. And then she was hauled out of sight.

“What the hell just happened?” asked Sharon. “Rewind.”

Jie’s jaw hung open as the broadcast played again. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Surely cooperating helps everyone. What is it that Juarez and Lui want?”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as it sounded,” said Sharon.

“It’s bad,” said Sally. “Did you see Doctor Black’s face? She looked like she’d lost a child. She thinks Pax Gaia is dead.”

“We should at least see what President Juarez is proposing,” suggested Sharon.

The scene shifted, the same room, but an hour later. President Juarez had delayed her speech, no doubt to work out a response to Tania’s accusations. A second podium had been set up, behind which stood a three-dimensional hologram of Lui Xing Tao. Juarez walked out, radiating concern, shaking hands with the press in the front row as her stiff Chinese counterpart watched from Beijing.

“Sorry for the unexpected opening act,” said the President. “Doctor Black feels tremendous guilt over her role in the hurricane tragedy. My prayers are with those we lost in Miami. Such catastrophic storms will never again be allowed to happen. Not in the United States. Not in Mexico. Not in Indonesia. It is time to take bold action in our management of Earth’s climate.

“President Lui and I had hoped that by working with UNBio to create Pax Gaia, we’d be able to achieve the global cooperation we all want. But a million Americans are dead in a storm that should have been prevented. Our review of the UNBio simulation data shows that sulfuring should have started weeks ago. Not just to prevent hurricanes, but also to slow a dangerous escalation of Arctic melting. But UNBio didn’t act. Politics clouded science. It must stop!

“We’ve tried working with the international community. We’ve tried working with UNBio. But we failed. And this is the tragic result. Now it’s time for action. We must protect our world, not just from more hurricanes, but from a runaway arctic meltdown that would destroy our future. And we need strong leadership. That’s why President Lui and I have made the difficult decision to take on the role of climate guardians.”

The President rose tall behind the podium, her voice reaching a crescendo. “We are at war with the Earth’s climate. And in war, we need to act with courage. We will start with an immediate resumption of sulfuring. To avoid another Miami. To avoid another ice-sheet collapse. To avoid runaway methane releases. The first flights are already being prepared.”

So, it’s just like Tania said. They’re killing Pax Gaia.

The President turned to her Chinese counterpart. President Lui blinked. “Sulfuring is of course a short-term strategy. In the medium-term our two great nations will complete the shield. In fact, just hours ago, Tian Jie made yet another breakthrough in his research. We are now one short step from completion. In light of their success, we’re extending the lunar crew’s rotation to let them finish their work.”

Everyone looked at Sharon. “It’s news to me,” she said. She shrugged. “I have to admit, I’m feeling a bit out of the loop on this. Nice work, Jie.”

Jie nodded numbly. He felt no joy. Somehow, it felt like everything had changed. What is it we are working towards? Do we even know? He turned his attention back to the TV, where the Chinese President was now speaking.

“President Juarez and I have worked out a roadmap detailing how the completed shield will be used,” continued Lui. “We’re calling it Tamed Earth. We will create a new, more stable climate in three steps. First, we’ll create zones of regular, predictable rainfall to ensure food security for all. Second, we’ll cap sea level rises and reverse polar melting. And third, we’ll make strategic weather interventions so that we will never see another Hurricane Martha, anywhere on Earth.”

Juarez opened the floor to questions. Reporters shouted over each other, hands waving.