With the media’s focus on deceased animals, more and more cases were arising. In Sweden around 100 jackdaws were found dead in the city of Falkoping. The birds showed little or no signs of damage.
Dead birds dropping from the skies and rivers brimful of dead fish have biblical, apocalyptic connotations. In America, where 41 percent of the populace believe Jesus will return in 2050, some pastors were referring to the Hand of God and to the biblical End of Days. Other excitable pastors expressed the belief that a period known as “The Tribulation” was now settling upon the world and further assert the Bible makes it clear this pre-Apocalypse period will be about environmental catastrophes rather than wars.
And, just as prophetically Biblical, the Middle East was in turmoil. Revolutions in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya have already successfully toppled seemingly omnipotent governments, while Syria’s incumbent President was hanging on an increasingly tenuous thread. He has ordered his fast-dwindling number of loyal supporters to destroy country-wide dissidence by using the most effective means available. Jordan, Yemen, Bahrain and Saudi Arabia are experiencing civic disturbances but not of the same intensity. The major oil producing countries in the region were fearful that the unrest would spread and disturb the inflow of billions of petro-dollars arising from the sale of oil to the unsatiable Western nations.
If the turmoil in the Middle East wasn’t enough to raise the temperatures of world governments, a tsunami of unprecedented magnitude struck the eastern coast of Japan with catastrophic results. It was triggered by an earthquake under the Pacific, measuring 8.9 on the Richter Scale. The dense oceanic crust of the Pacific Tectonic Plate is slowly being forced under the North American Plate resulting in the generation of unimaginable forces which not only creates an undersea earthquake but also results in a massive displacement of water. This then becomes a tsunami, a Japanese word meaning “Harbour Wave”. The tsunami, attaining a speed of 150 miles per hour, hit the city of Sendai with successive waves measuring close to forty feet in height. Thousands of buildings were destroyed as the massive waves swept inland. Sendai Airport was submerged and hundreds of lives were lost. Of additional concern, a state of emergency was declared at a nuclear power plant at nearby Fukishima due to damage caused by the earthquake. Not only is Japan being slammed by the awesome power of nature but a nuclear holocaust has now become a strong possibility: and this in a country where two atomic bombs were dropped in 1945 to forge an end to the Second World War! It doesn’t take a highly qualified scientist to understand that all is not well with the world and, worryingly, there are ominous signs of things becoming progressively worse.
Portions of the world’s media were grabbing the headlines by speculating these extraordinary and unusual events are somehow related to the momentous return of Richard Moss from Terra Nova. Others less prone to wild conjecture, dismissed such baseless speculation as not worthy of consideration. Richard Moss, however, was in no doubt; Earth was sliding inexorably towards the abyss and only he, through The Creator, had the means to apply the brakes. But, first of all, Earth’s inhabitants must be persuaded to take their collective feet off the accelerator pedal!
***
David Buckland was idly fingering the memo on the table before him. Copies of the same memo are on the table in front of Richard Moss, Mark Oldfield, Peter Hemsley and Joanna Regan. Five lines of immaculate black print list the items for discussion, two of which are heavily underlined.
‘Let’s proceed,’ said Buckland, drumming the index finger of his right hand on the table. ‘Item One - Question Richard Moss’s assertion that he has the power to persuade.’ The PM looked into Richard’s eyes; his challenging look defining the way in which the meeting was predetermined to be conducted. ‘What do you have to say Richard?’
Richard returned Buckland’s gaze for some seconds before replying.
‘I assumed this question had already been answered by my success at the United Nations and by my meeting with President Clifton and his skeptical aides at The White House. As a direct result of those meetings, major nations of the world, some previously reticent about so doing, are now forging ahead with the introduction of strict limits on carbon emissions. China, India, the United States, previously unyielding in this respect, are now actively engaged upon introducing measures designed to bring emissions under strict control. You must agree this is a major step forward? You will also agree, I am sure, that these changes are unquestionably due to my power to persuade; bearing in mind that previous agreements, Kyoto for example, were ignored and achieved absolutely nothing?’
Buckland merely nodded. Oldfield folded his arms. Hemsley sat back in his chair (Adam’s apple visible but unmoving) Regan, head down, intently studied her notes.
‘The veracity of your assertions will be tested by the close of this meeting. Meanwhile let’s move on to item two. How long have we got? That is, before it is too late to halt the slide towards the Earth’s extinction?’
Richard was explicit in his reply.
‘Five to ten years at the most. There are clear, indisputable signs that the demise of Earth is swiftly approaching. You are all aware of increasing examples of nature’s wrath occurring on a daily basis. Earthquakes, hurricanes, floods, famine, disease, social unrest; the list grows with each passing day. Man’s hand is responsible for other glaring examples which manifest themselves in appalling terrorist atrocities, downtrodden populations risings against cruel, unjust regimes. Nation against nation, religion against religion, man against his neighbour. Murders occur every minute of every hour of every day somewhere, everywhere, in the world. The Earth’s population is rising to levels where soon it will be impossible to feed everyone, leading to yet more strife and social unrest. The signs are there to see. The problem is, the vast majority of us walk around with eyes permanently closed!’
Buckland, morose, silent, was palpably wrestling with conflicting emotions. His eyes conveyed a grudging acceptance of the persuasiveness of Richard’s words but his body language suggested something diametrically opposite. His hands were screwed into tight bunches as does a bare knuckle fighter when about to inflict serious damage upon his opponent. Oldfield, Hemsley and Regan also remained acquiescently silent, acutely aware that the PM was entangled in a complex political web where his options were restricted, not only because of the parlous state of the UK’s economy, but also by Oldfield’s Liberal Democrats pushing relentlessly for a less draconian range of cuts to, alongside a host of other things, the country’s social services. There was no doubt in Buckland’s mind that the cost of introducing the many measures necessary to reduce the UK’s carbon emissions could be a political step too far for a government struggling to reach adulthood while still coping with its infancy. He was beginning to doubt the wisdom of forming a coalition with a partner whose objectives were way too far to the left of centre.
The tension throughout the room was tangible. Richard sensed he would forfeit his initial success unless he was able to bring the meeting to a positive close. He looked at Buckland whose gaze remained focused upon his clenched fists. He could not contain himself and gave voice to his thoughts, carefully enunciating his words.
‘Prime Minister, may I have your attention please? It is obvious you are troubled by what I’ve had to say and I cannot blame you for that. However, you asked a question which I have answered as candidly as I was able. My sole purpose of being returned to Earth was to help prevent a disaster from which it will be impossible to escape. I have, I believe, been moderately successful in altering the way in which governments throughout the world have failed to react to nature’s discernable warning signals. You and your government are central to the ultimate success of my task. Unless I can count on you one hundred percent, failure will follow and all the consequences I have outlined will inevitably occur. There is no way forward except that which I have advocated. Your understandable concern over coalition squabbles is inconsequential, when set
alongside the enormity of what will happen unless you agree to act now.’
Buckland began flexing the fingers of both hands. The stiffness wrought by his fist clenching was proving difficult to relieve. His eyes became fixed upon Richard who was now totally in control of the meeting.
‘You have the full support of my government,’ said Buckland in the earnest way that has become familiar to those who know him. ‘We will do our utmost to convert those who are still doubtful. But let me assure you, I now stand alongside the converted.’
He picked up the piece of paper on which were written the five questions; three remained unanswered. He screwed the paper into a tight ball and tossed it into a nearby waste paper basket.
‘Forget the other questions,’ he said, thrusting his chair back. Checking himself, he reached forward to press a button on the telephone and raised the receiver to his ear.
‘Claudine, the meeting’s over. Please accompany Mr. Moss back to the car.’
He looked at Richard.
‘I assume you wish to be returned to your home? If not, let the driver know and he’ll take you to your destination.’
He walked towards the door at the end of the room. Richard did the same from his side of the desk. They met just as Claudine Leigh-Smith entered the room. Buckland extended his right hand. Richard shook it warmly. Oldfield, Hemsley and Regan gathered round and joined in the handshaking.
Leigh-Smith led Richard back down the curving staircase towards the front door of the building. Outside, engine purring like a well-fed, contented cat, was the car in which Richard had arrived. The driver opened the rear door.
‘Where to sir?’ the driver asked.
‘Home James and don’t spare the horses!’
Richard looked around at Claudine. She suppressed a smile. Waved a hand.
‘Goodbye Mr. Moss. It was a pleasure to meet you!’
Chapter Seventy
There is no question that Richard Moss’s embedded power of persuasion was having a positive effect. Measures to combat global warming are being introduced around the world in countries where, previously, there had been little or no movement towards the goals agreed at the 11 December 1997 Kyoto summit. The United States, China, India, three countries where unrestricted pollution has been conceitedly ignored for years, were now at the forefront of the movement towards a cleaner environment.
In the two year period since Moss returned to Earth from Terra Nova, the forces of nature have continued to wreak havoc. Earthquakes, hurricanes, floods, and tornados have become daily occurrences. Weather patterns have changed in ways previously unrecorded. In those countries where snow and ice was the expected norm during the winter months, warm conditions prevailed. Elsewhere, in countries where wall to wall sunshine has reigned consistently, year after year, season by season, freezing conditions were now causing crops to fail and their populations to scratch heads in wonderment; what on Earth is happening to our weather? In addition, wars, terrorism, popular uprisings against autocratic regimes, plus strife, famine and unrest among much of the world’s population, means the task set for Richard Moss by those acting for The Creator is far more complex than originally envisioned. Richard’s dreams, once beacons of hope, have become cauldrons of despair. The forces guiding him are constrained by The Creator’s obdurate stance over the future of Earth. Unless His will prevails, there is no question; Earth will suffer the same fate as its predecessor.
Richard is beginning to have serious doubts as to whether his task can be accomplished. Time is running out faster than anticipated. Then, after a series of urgent warning signals, a ticking time-bomb exploded carrying with it the intrinsic potential to bring the world’s economy to a state of irretrievable collapse. Several Eurozone countries, the majority of which have adopted the Euro as currency, are in serious economic difficulties. Ireland, Greece, Portugal, Italy and Spain are billions of Euros in debt, unable to function without massive financial support from other EU member countries. Germany, France and the United Kingdom are at the forefront of an unavoidable bail-out. The United States is also unable to pay its debts and, unless agreement can be reached between the US government and those who oppose its attempts to reduce the 1.1 trillion Dollar deficit, the mighty Dollar will become as worthless as a Yugoslav Dinar.
These thoughts were troubling Richard Moss as he sat in First Class aboard a Pristine Airways Boeing 757 heading for Kyoto in Japan. His mission was simple; to persuade the nations involved to resurrect the Kyoto Protocol, an international agreement linked to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. The major feature of the Kyoto Protocol is binding targets for 37 industrialized countries and the European community for reducing greenhouse gas emissions. These amount to an average of five per cent against 1990 levels over the five-year period 2008-2012. The major distinction between the Protocol and the Convention is that while the Convention encouraged industrialised countries to stabilize GHG emissions, the Protocol commits them to do so. Recognizing that developed countries are principally responsible for the current high levels of greenhouse gas emissions in the atmosphere as a result of more than 150 years of industrial activity, the Protocol places a heavier burden on developed nations.
The problem appears insurmountable, thought Richard. Where is the funding to implement even the basic elements of the Kyoto protocol going to come from? America is in deep, deep financial trouble. Her credit rating has been downgraded from AAA to just two of those A’s. President Clifton is under tremendous pressure and fighting for his political survival, what with the embarrassment of the downgrading and with mid-term elections demonstrating how tenuous is his hold on power.
As these thoughts were pervading his brain he was brought back to the present by the silent arrival of a cabin crew member. He looked up and saw the smiling features of a dark haired, extremely attractive, young woman. Her crisp, scarlet uniform was immaculately tailored. He could see from the tag attached to her coat lapel that her name was Miranda and, what is more, she was the Chief Steward.
‘May I offer you a drink Mr. Moss?’ Miranda inquired, her smile revealing perfect white teeth surrounded by lips the colour of a Queen Elizabeth rose. Richard returned her smile, raising himself into an upright position in the ample black leather seat.
‘I would love a drink,’ he answered. ‘Nothing alcoholic mind you! How about a tomato juice, with lots of ice, a slice of lemon and a dash of Worcestshire Sauce?’
Miranda smiled and said, “My pleasure. I’ll be back shortly.’
A male passenger sitting immediately adjacent to Richard rose to his feet. He approached Richard, grinning. His dominating stature, shoulder-length, curling blonde hair and matching beard left Richard in no doubt as to whom the man was. Yes, it was none other than William Ransome, the man responsible for creating the incredibly successful, world-wide, Pristine brand, comprising 53 diverse companies, including the airline and the airplane in which he was now being transported to Japan.
‘Unless I’m mistaken, you areTHE Richard Moss?’ He spoke in a clipped, upper class accent, reminiscent of the UK’s Prime Minister, David Buckland. Same intonation, same easy style, same air of confidence. Richard looked up at the towering figure.
‘Yes, I am Richard Moss, but not sure about the THE!’
Ransome continued grinning. ‘May I join you?’ he asked, revealing a mouth of immaculate white teeth. Richard nodded his assent and motioned to the seat to his right. The hand held out by Ransome was lightly tanned. The fingers were long, the nails impeccably groomed. His grip was surprisingly fierce as if he were prepared to apprehend a thief. Richard winced.
‘Oh I’m so sorry. Please excuse me old chap,’ he said. ‘I must remember to be more careful in the hand shake department; it’s all this circuit training upon which my family insists I engage. They say it keeps me young but, believe me, I beg to differ!’
‘No pro
blem,’ answered Richard returning the grin. ‘And you are THE William Ransome, if I’m not mistaken! I’ve been dying to meet you since I was a young man. Your entrepreneurial efforts are a wonderful example for anyone seeking to forge a successful business.’
Ransome settled into the seat and crossed his arms. His handsome face was dominated by a pair of startling blue eyes which drilled hypnotically into Richard’s.
‘Richard, you must tell me everything about your time on Terra Nova. I was away vacationing when you returned and missed your arrival at Windsor Park. I’ve seen video footage but it doesn’t capture the excitement that accompanies the real thing.’
At that very moment Miranda, the chief steward, arrived carrying a tray upon which rested a glass filled with ice cubes, a slice of lemon, swimming in bath of tomato juice. An unopened bottle of Worcester Sauce was also positioned on the tray. Surprise at seeing her supreme boss sitting next to Richard caused her to stumble. The glass slid from the tray and landed squarely in Ransome’s lap. His immaculate beige trousers were splattered with the contents of the glass. Miranda screeched, gaping mouth covered by the palm of her free hand, immobile, horrified, speechless. Ransome looked directly at her, then at his trousers, then at Richard. He glanced at the bottle of Worcester Sauce rolling around on the plush carpeted floor of the cabin. He spoke, his voice in Eton School mode.
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