by Les W Kuzyk
Chapter 18
“So when we dump our SO2 in the thin cold stratosphere, it just hangs there for a while?” Brad raised an eyebrow. With street vendor coffees in hand they leaned back in chairs against the wall of their sidewalk hotel front in Agadez. The air hung heavy with early morning dust mingled with the smell of passing animal traffic. Aahil was to arrive any minute in the scout truck.
“Yeah, the sulphur gas combines with water to form sulphuric acid,” Vince said. “The acid forms into droplets and you get an aerosol. The whole process takes a few weeks, so we’ve got that kind of delay before our sunshade’s really in place.”
“Huh.” Brad sipped his coffee. “And this scout truck?”
The truck, Vince told Brad, was a three ton tanker, one of a potential fleet. Aahil would be bringing one from its parking spot in the storage yard. New from Asia, they were designed for deep penetration of harsh terrain. The idea was to trial a refill and re-launch right from where the balloons landed. The truck crew would refill the sulphur tank, trade the helium tank for one full, relocate the launch point, push a reset switch and have it prepped to send up another load. “Your night time requirement makes it complicated, but the trucks have GPS tracking and nightlight capacity. Works more efficiently for a launch like the Niger national.” A few hundred tons would go up around Niamey for the presidential showcase, but thousands more needed launch here by the desert’s edge.
“Could turn out pretty good for Aahil, and this family,” Brad said. “A lot of his cousins live up here, so they get truck driving work.”
“Yeah, we’ll be needing crews.”
Brad stared down the street. “You know, I got a message from Keith, you remember? We did that joint project on balloon design.”
“Yeah. He works out of Seattle, right?”
“He’s talking African contract.”
“Really.”
A donkey brayed long and loud down the way, and the barking of distant dogs came in from all directions. The heat of the day rapidly pushed aside the cold night air.
“Okay listen,” Brad said. “Say nothing else changes but we do get a Green Sahara. Could be good for Aahil right? But everywhere else in the world the climate keeps changing. So, I’d say Vince there’s gonna be places you wanna be and places you don’t wanna be.”
“That’s the way the world is now. You thinking of moving here?”
“Nope, I mean back home actually. You think this project’s gonna fly? Who knows?” Brad said. “Take extreme weather events—floods, droughts, wild fires...you want to avoid hurricane alley for sure. Hard to tell exactly where things will be nicer, or even less disturbed. But I’d hedge my bets on the Rocky Mountain valleys for one. Most of the Pacific Northwest looks relatively stable on a four degree map. Interior, anyway...there’s gonna be rising sea levels on the coast.”
“So you’ve seen a four degree map,” Vince said, looking over. “How’s that look for here?”
“Minus our project.” Brad pressed his lips hard into an unnaturally disturbed look. “Well, uninhabitable. I mean I can see why Aahil and his family would be listening close to their president.”
“Yeah.”
“Look, the way I see it Vince, it’s a good idea to pick out a spot. A good spot. Hard to say if it’ll be better in the city or out in the country, so I figure best to have two places. A back door option.”
“You think things could really get that bad?”
Brad shrugged. “Like I say, a growing risk. Anyway, you gotta come check out our valley when we get back home. Stretches right up across the border into Canada. I’ll meet you there and we’ll find paraglider lift off the east side mountains.”
“I dunno. I mean thanks for the invite.” Vince’s eyes softened. “You know Calgary has that advantage, no ocean front. We’re up at three thousand feet plus; the salt water would never be rising enough there. But now the infograms I’ve been touring describe typical southern Alberta flooding. Snowpack partly, but it’s mostly extra rainfall on still frozen ground that makes for a quick spring runoff into the rivers. Other weird weather, like early heavy wet snow dumps break the tree branches before the leaves fall.” He looked at Brad. “Who would have thought? Calgary’s semi-arid, so you’d expect a drought.”
“There you go,” Brad said. “It’s gonna be a crap shoot. And we got some global dice rolling here.”
“All random chance then.” Vince balanced his Smiling Earth cup on the arm of his chair. “Or we got a few angels onside.”
“Alright, here’s a situation check for your angels,” Brad said. “The same ppm of carbon spread all over the world, supplied gratis by countries like ours gives different effects depending where you are. That’s some pretty fine tuning when we’re measuring in parts per million. And we got a world laced with the business as usual attitude. Carbon from the US or Canada floats around in the African air we’re breathing at this moment. So tell those angels that’s what we got, carbon everywhere. And invisible too, like them.”
“The grand designer’s giving us an opportunity.” Vince mused, watching a herd of goats walking past guided by a turbaned youth with a long stick. “A common issue bonds young people together. Could that be what we’ve got?”
“So you alluding to our chance to grow up?”
“Yeah.” Vince stared into his empty cup. “Maybe.
Aahil pulled up in the scout truck. They climbed the two side steps and slid in beside on the high front seat.
“To storage yard, yes?” Aahil said. He shifted the truck into gear and gently let out the clutch to roll them forward.
“How about a tour, Aahil?” Brad said. “Your family comes from around here, right? Show us the sights.”
They drove a weaving route through the dusty streets on their way to the north end of the city. Mingling in with the camel traffic, they passed stunted shade trees that cast shrinking morning shadows. Diesel fumes mixed with a hanging aroma of animal dung in the thick air. Aahil pointed out the top of a brown clay tower poking above the walls along the street.
When they turned the corner, Aahil let his foot off the accelerator as they passed a gaping burned out chasm in the wall around the tower. “Eight years past my cousin came in to Agadez. Blessed by the prophet, he did not attend Grand Mosque. Khalid was known to meet his wives and children in entrance hall. Two fire-from-the-sky missiles hit the mosque entrance—many leaving mosque that day are now in paradise.”
“Christ.” Vince said under his breath.
“They never had surface drones back then.” Brad spoke softly. “A Marauder carries two missiles, maybe Hellblazer II, the 116R Romeo.” He looked at Vince. “So back then, they can’t see their target exactly, so they take out a suspected part of the building and everyone in it. Or a vehicle. The military must have really wanted that Khalid guy bad. Now surface drones help achieve target lock, if they’re available.”
Vince searched for a picture on his Jeenyus, showing how the skyward poking Grand Mosque and blasted entrance building once stood before the Hellblazer. He showed Brad. “So tell me about this drone missile thing again,” Vince said.
Brad nodded. “They launch a Hellblazer from an UAV, that’s an Unmanned Aerial Vehicle. Often a Marauder. They argue it’s more selective and accurate than bombs.” Brad shrugged. “Less collateral damage. Say they target us in our vehicle, well, they get Aahil too. Only Aahil would be collateral damage.” Brad put his hand on Aahil’s shoulder.
“The Grand Mosque has a reborn entrance.” Aahil stared at Brad through furrowed eyes. “The main door now opens to the other street”.
They passed between the red mud plastered walls to a taller palisade—the Sultan’s palace, Aahil said. The rampart loomed above as they jostled in a traffic snarl of other desert trucks, beasts of burden and rattling old cars. “Morning rush hour,” Brad tooted. “Like anywhere.” Free of the tangle, they left the city business zone and ascended a gradual slope along a wadi to the storage yard end of town.
“Those surface drones use camouflage Brad?” Vince looked out his window.
“Chameleon technology keeps advancing...real bonus for reconnaissance.”
“What could one do to us? Say here and now.”
“First step, they snap a shot of our vehicle and plate, you know, like the police camera for a ticket. Then you’ve been tagged.”
“Then what?”
“Depends what vehicle data they got.” He looked at Vince. “And their mission objective. Why?”
“I think I saw one. When we came into town last night.”
“What color?”
Vince looked back. “Night shadow.”
“Next step, they take us out.”
“Hmmm.”
Pulling in to the walled yard, they discovered an extensive packed earth patch of vacant space. A twenty-five-ton tanker trailer sat tucked in at one end, one thing Vince needed to see. Room remained for many trailers beside, and he could envision larger sulphur storage tanks at the other end. Buildings with warehouse front doors lined the central drive, an inside storage place for launch balloons and helium tanks. The Aïr Mountains loomed above them in the distance.