by Paul Briggs
“Because in fact there are not that many people in the world who know how to collect data in Antarctica and stay alive while doing it,” said Roger. “On the other hand, there are a million corporate tools out there who could do what you do just as well—in fact, the only reason you’re the one doing this is so you’ll be a better—”
“I think I know where you’re going with this,” said Carrie, “and again, I have to say no. I never meant to put anybody in danger. If I had, it would have been myself, not you, not Mama, and most of all not our daughter. Because she ended up in danger anyway, that’s no reason for you to deliberately—”
“Yeah, God forbid we do anything dangerous!”
Carrie turned. Thel was standing over them. “We’re the Cambergs!” she said scornfully. “Standing up and taking risks is for other people! We’re just so… special!”
“Sit down, honey,” said Carrie. Thel sat down, but didn’t look mollified at all.
“You said it yourself, Mom. A guy who’s trying to save millions of people—you didn’t want me having anything to do with him because he might not care if I got hurt! And I was supposed to be okay with that!” Thel shook her head. “What sort of person do you think I am?”
Your father’s child. And a better woman than I’ll ever be. And God, I wish you weren’t.
It wasn’t just her husband and daughter, either. George, who could have done anything with his life, joined the Army, went to Afghanistan, and came back wounded and addicted to pain meds. Drew got horribly burned in a failed attempt to save his brother.
Even Mike had a touch of whatever this was. When Carrie asked how he and Samantha had gotten together, he told her how she’d helped him save his business after the real estate bubble. When she asked him about their relationship now and what it was he loved about her, he told her… how she’d helped him save his business after the real estate bubble. Everyone who knew him had been expecting him to dump her and get a good-looking trophy wife. Instead, he stayed with a woman he didn’t love out of lingering gratitude and a sense of obligation.
What is wrong with our family? Why can’t any of us be selfish?
On August 18, Typhoon Haiyan grazed the north of Taiwan—doing terrible damage even with its edges—and hit mainland China. The storm was considered a Category 5, but only because there is no Category 6 or 7.
The Chinese government had to arrange the evacuation, in less than a week, of about as many people as the United States government had needed to evacuate during last year’s Northern Monsoon. And finding empty land to build camps is not so hard in the United States, but in China, if land is empty it’s empty for a reason—usually lack of water.
Winds of over two hundred miles an hour lashed the heart of Shanghai and Ningbo, and a forty-foot wall of water followed behind. Even if every single structure in the path of the storm had been built to the most exacting codes—and quite a few structures didn’t seem to have been built to any code at all—this would have been too much to withstand.
The storm was still Category 5 when it was over western Shandong. It did not die entirely until it had gone west of Beijing and spent the last of its rain and wind on the arid lands of inner Mongolia, pelting the Great Wall on both sides as it passed.
* * *
Henry Pratt sat in the Oval Office, listening to Jim Ahn’s report.
Group 77 had collapsed. In the midst of the wreckage, it had turned out that what everyone suspected was true. The Group had been a conspiracy of oil companies and oil-producing nations to keep the price of petroleum high by kneecapping the alternatives. Now there was political turmoil in a dozen countries—not counting Mexico and Nigeria, which were in a state of turmoil to begin with. Yesterday the government of Venezuela was overthrown. And nothing of value was lost, thought Pratt. In Saudi Arabia, civil unrest had broken out in five cities. In Kuwait and Brunei, once-trusted finance ministers and treasury officials were being tried, convicted, and executed, not always in that order. The new Russian president, Yevgeny Nardin, was making a great show of rooting out and arresting Russian officials and oligarchs involved in the Group.
And, even as the president of Iraq was demanding the resignations of half his ministers, the government of Iran had just gotten a no-confidence vote. “Any chance this will shake the Basra Pact?” Pratt asked.
“Unfortunately, no,” said Jim. “The opposition in Iran is as pro-Pact as the government itself. Even if they’re allowed to win, it doesn’t help us.
“The good news is that we might be able to isolate the Pact. The government of China is getting a lot of mileage out of denouncing this… vast criminal conspiracy, they’re calling it.”
“One question,” said Pratt. “In this ‘vast criminal conspiracy’ did anybody at any point ever actually break the law?”
“Possibly,” said Ahn. “It would depend on the laws of the countries in question. A lot of oil company executives are saying they were coerced by government officials into contributing to the Group’s funding.”
“Are you sure they’re telling the truth?” asked Terry Walther, seated on the left-hand couch.
“You suspect otherwise?”
“To be honest, yeah,” said Terry. “The people in the industry, and investing in the industry, aren’t the same people that were there five or ten years ago. You know about all the people who decide to sell their stock in fossil fuel companies, right? Here’s the thing we keep forgetting—every time somebody sells that stock, somebody else buys it. So the people still in the business are self-selected true believers. As far as they’re concerned, if it isn’t black and doesn’t come out of the ground, it’s not real energy.” Pratt nodded. There was a time when he’d felt that way himself.
“Look at Texas,” Terry said. “It wasn’t just oil billionaires putting in their own money. You had state officials lining up to shove public funds into the Group’s coffers. The same thing happened in Louisiana, which barely even has a budget anymore. There’s a chance we could be looking at two governors going to jail over this. Not any time soon, however. This is the kind of legal mess it takes years to sort out.” Ahn nodded. “And does anybody want to hear the bad news?”
“Want to? No,” said Pratt. “Need to? Yes.”
“Our favorite governor is claiming vindication over this. She’s been the one fighting the group the hardest this whole time.”
“How can she justify gutting the legal system to fight a group of investors when all she had to do was wait five months and let it fall apart of its own accord?”
“The problem with that,” said Terry, “is that it didn’t fall apart of its own accord. It fell apart because a lot of governments—China, India, a lot of European countries—just chose not to respect the Group’s claims. And like it or not, that does include Morgan.”
“So she’s the fly on the wagon?”
“I’d give her a little more credit than that,” said Terry. “There are a lot of swords sticking in this beast. Hers is one of them, but not the biggest and probably not the one that killed it. The bottom line on these people is, Group 77 destruct-tested the willingness of Western civilization to play by its own rules—at least when it comes to property and patent law.”
Jim nodded. “They were desperate,” he said. “It’s not just the money. They’re looking at a fundamental loss of importance in the world. This was a Hail Mary pass. A last-ditch attempt to stop that from happening. And now that it’s failed…”
Pratt nodded. Russia weakened, the Basra Pact weakened, maybe even a chance for free elections in Venezuela… things were looking up. Mexico was still a problem, but he and Swanston had a plan to help that country restore order.
On the other hand, diminishing the importance of oil would also strengthen the hands of people like Rep. Darling—people who regarded involvement in the Mideast not as America’s right, nor as America’s sin, but as a curse and a burden America would be well done with. Pratt had a certain amount of sympathy with this, but having brou
ght the country through the North Korean crisis and strengthened its hand in the world, he found himself even more reluctant than he would normally be to preside over a diminishment of American power and influence.
* * *
With a deep sense of satisfaction, Isabel completed the last check on the Penobscot project and sent it to the government of Maine. They hadn’t even asked for it to be able to stand up to the Northern Monsoon, but she’d designed it that way anyway. All indications were that the Monsoon would strike again this year, somewhere in North America.
Having done that, she decided for a moment to celebrate by playing Enginquest. And then she remembered. Belle772505 was dead. She had fallen in battle helping the Hindenburger Guild and their allied guild, the submarine-riding Children of Nemo, bring down an elder chthonid outside the capital of Macandal.
Isabel felt as though she’d lost a friend. Belle was awesome. She lived for adventure and battle. A day when nothing was trying to kill, eat, or enslave her was a day wasted. She’d beaten so many foes, leveled up so many times. She had all the qualities Isabel valued in herself, and a lot more in the way of beauty, style, and general badassiveness. And now she was gone—or rather, Isabel had lost the ability to pretend she existed. She could always go back, create another character, and start over again, but without Hunter it wouldn’t be the same.
She checked her messages for something from Hunter. Tree-planting season was over, but he was finding other things to do. His last message had been about helping with somebody’s harvest. He seemed so happy now. For the first time in his life, he knew what everybody wanted from him and he could do it.
Isabel looked around the room. Hunter’s things were packed neatly away in boxes, and the apartment was impeccably clean and neat, the mess he usually made everywhere long since tidied up. There was no sign that anyone other than her had ever lived here.
Damn. I need more hobbies. I need more friends. I need… something in my life besides work.
With no other ideas about what to do with herself, Isabel decided to watch the news. This week, Congress had come back from recess and, after much debate, finally passed the SUSTAIN Act. Now…
“Money to build a new sewer system for a small town in Texas which no longer has drinking water thanks to aquifer depletion,” Pratt was saying. “New cattle grazing permits on land that is no longer suitable for grazing cattle. Continued subsidies for cotton growers in Arizona to buy water that citizens can barely afford to drink. Repairs to the Los Angeles Aqueduct, and desalination plants to replace the aqueduct, at the same time. Those are just a few of the hundreds of examples I could cite. This is the most shameless indulgence in runaway spending I have ever seen even from Congress.
“And I haven’t even told you the worst. Many of you have been following the debate over the proposed ‘Latania Project’—whether to rebuild the Old River Control Structure and try to bring New Orleans back to life, or to accept that the Mississippi’s course has changed and build a new seaport and deepwater channel at the former site of Krotz Springs in Louisiana. The SUSTAIN Act funds both. Both. Even though the completion of one would render the other useless.
“Congress has budgeted 1.1 trillion dollars—trillion—to pay for this. According to the CBO, that won’t be nearly enough. According to the CBO, there is, quite literally, not enough money in the world to pay for this monstrosity.
“They sent me this bill in the apparent belief that with so much infrastructure spending attached to it, and so much infrastructure needing to be rebuilt, I wouldn’t dare veto it. If that was what they thought, they don’t know me very well. I am vetoing the SUSTAIN Act. If Congress wants to get anything done before they adjourn again and face the voters, they’d better bring me something I can sign.”
On the one hand, Isabel couldn’t argue with this. That bill had become a disaster. On the other hand… please tell me none of the projects I worked on were on that bill.
Isabel approved of Pratt’s handling of the Korea situation earlier this year. On the other hand, she couldn’t help but think he could be doing more to rebuild the country he was actually president of. And there was his annoying habit, as far back as the election, of making speeches at colleges where he told students the world didn’t owe them anything and they needed to get to work. Since that was already how she was living her life, she didn’t need the lecture—and from what the pundits said, he only did this to make himself more popular with older people, who were more reliable voters than the young. If it’s not aimed at you personally, then don’t take it personally. In fact, you probably shouldn’t be listening at all. That was a lesson it had taken a while to learn and Isabel still didn’t think she’d fully internalized.
Checking another news feed, she saw a story out of Denver. The 10th Circuit Court had ruled that residents in FEMA camps would be allowed to vote in the midterms. According to the story, this affected Wyoming, Kansas, Oklahoma—but especially Wyoming, where “tarpies” were now a majority of the state population.
Then she saw a story about some congressman named Darling who had been put on the ShameList for things he said eight or nine years ago. He was being quoted as saying “I was misled.” One commentator said, “He’s not the first Republican official to end up on the list—he’s just the first one who doesn’t sound proud of it.”
Then, on the state/local news feed, something jumped out at her.
The governor of Maryland was speaking at a dock overlooking the Bay. “There’s nothing that can be done for the land of Smith Island,” he said. “This historic island is low, and getting lower every day. As the seas rise, the island sinks due to erosion. Like Holland Island in the last century, its history has come to an end, but its people will continue. We are building new housing in St. Mary’s County, and my hope is that by the beginning of next year we can bring new life to this ancient community.”
Isabel turned off the news feed, then sat back and sighed. Well, you knew this was going to happen one day. And maybe it’ll work out well. If everybody gets a place in this community, that solves a lot of problems right there.
Of course, Pop-pop’s health is still going to be an issue whatever happens. He’d been prescribed a very expensive medication. He was taking a cheaper Canadian version of an expensive drug—not strictly legal, but under President Pratt, the FDA tended to turn a blind eye to that sort of thing. Unfortunately, Canada had its own problems, so the cheap version wasn’t always available. Which meant the family had no idea how much they’d be spending on health care in any given month.
Sandy’s birthday was tomorrow. Isabel was planning to send her an e-card. Maybe I should ask her—
No.
Isabel hadn’t heard much from Sandy in a while. She had the impression that her old friend had been very busy for the past five years, and had been mired in court battles for much of that time.
And there might be good reasons she hadn’t already offered to help. She might be afraid of being deluged with calls for assistance from everybody she’d ever even as much as smiled at. She might still not be too secure in her own wealth.
Or she might just not care that much anymore.
No. She wouldn’t have forgotten me completely.
Either way, hasn’t she given you enough already?
Isabel didn’t have an answer to that.
Walter Yuschak sat behind his desk, not even trying not to look smug as the cameras aimed at him. For the first time in a while, his chair was framed by two American flags.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am feeling great,” he said. “I am feeling more positive, more optimistic, more hopeful about the future of this country than I ever have before! You know why? Because as I’m sure you’ve all heard by now, last night Congress—working late into the evening—failed to override Pratt’s veto of the SUSTAIN Act! Even as I speak, they are headed back to their districts to run for re-election having accomplished precisely dick!
“America, we have dodged a bullet here. That bil
l would’ve ruined us! Just think of all the money that would have had to be spent! Taxes that would have to be raised, bonds that would have to be sold, debt that would have to be run up! One point one trillion dollars—that’s trillion, with a T—and the government’s own experts say that would have been just the beginning! Thank you, Henry Pratt!
“And seriously, did anybody actually need this thing? Not me! Do you know how much property I own along the coast? None! Because I’m not stupid! I know what’s coming and I don’t want to be affected any more than necessary! There was a time, yes, when I thought climate change wasn’t happening—or I pretended to think it wasn’t happening just to watch liberals get upset—but that was many years ago! So I don’t even need the original Norfolk Plan, let alone whatever that thing was they were trying to pass. Why the hell should my tax dollars—or yours, or anybody else’s—be spent on helping people with a bad case of wishful thinking?
“Anyway, it didn’t pass. Because Henry Pratt remembered enough of his campaign promises not to let Congress run wild, and Congress couldn’t not run wild! They couldn’t make themselves pass a bill he would sign! Their own interest groups—their own constituents—would turn on them if they did! This is awesome! The government has tied itself into a knot that nobody knows how to untie!”
Walt shook his head. “So many people act like this is a bad thing,” he said. “You hear it again and again. ‘What’s wrong with this country? Why can’t we do the Norfolk Plan? Why can’t we have high-speed rail? Why can’t we rebuild the ORCS? Or how about this Latania Project? That looks cool! We need to modernize this, protect that, fix up the other thing—we used to be the country that landed guys on the moon! What happened to us?’
“Listen to me! This is important! The greatness of a society is not measured by its ability to build big huge things! Ancient Egypt built the pyramids, China built the Great Wall, but you wouldn’t have wanted to live there while they were doing it! Some Americans once went to the moon, but there are parts of this country where you still can’t go to a marijuana dispensary! The greatness of a society is measured by the freedom it allows!”