Pinatubo II

by Les W Kuzyk

  #

  “How ready are we to achieve our targets?” Tamanna looked back and forth from Vince to Brad. They sat across at the downstairs meeting table. “And I need to know what contingency storage capacity we have, after we finish the national release.” She listened as they summarized what happened with balloon launches so far, and then updates on sulphur supplies. She searched each engineer’s face for telltale signs, listening to voice tones, for the Minister’s face-to-face update. The joyous American and his cheers-forever-countenance surprisingly scowled today, more in line with the strait-laced Canadian and his routine half sad look. That sad face did brighten, she noticed, when facts switched to concepts, and the topic swung away from tedious detail. Especially when touching on people or storytelling. They both held certain levels of project enthusiasm. Report to me any interest outside and beyond the specifics of contract; pay extra attention to that, Nishat said.

  With engineering design reports filed, she gave them an update on their client, the HICCC. The wait was now on, the outcome of specific items being negotiated with the countries of the OECD. Those items would not likely come to resolution before the direct HI/EC conference scheduled to finish in three weeks come Friday. Whatever financial assistance for developing countries, or lack thereof, climate adaptation remained the primary issue.

  “So,” Vince said. “It’s all about money.”

  “Yes.” She watched his smile attempt fade.

  “Military interests,” Brad said. “Why not talk about that?”

  She returned the American’s stare. Did he know of the Mali engineers incident? She led the topic off on her chosen wander, one that was hauntingly short in the other Sahel nations. See how they view the world, Nishat told her. Like a general interest interview. Another plan had come up to reverse desertification, she told them. A plan that could be global, one that would bring about a significant reduction in the size of the world’s semi-arid areas. The plan included those countries in and around the Sahara. One scientific group analyzed the counterintuitive use of grazing animals in rotating pastures, mimicking the natural order of ungulates on grasslands. She described promising results. Then there was biochar, any biological plant refuse converted to a carbon storing char state, which when added to soil had the impact of retaining moister. The two together made the most sense when it came to least disturbing the natural order. But, agreement was required on financing and that depended on OECD budgetary decisions.

  She let that sit.

  “Money again,” Vince said under his breath.

  She looked at him.

  Brad started to speak. “Saw a place like that here.” Brad said. “Our driver’s cousin.”

  “Is that so?” Tamanna looked to Brad’s defiant face. She sensed the guy had a tiff, with her maybe, but he stuck to his topic.

  “Driver’s cousin reverted a piece of desert to pasture. He runs a lot of goats and cattle on it. Like a little patch of green in the middle of the rock and sand.” Tamanna looked at him. His grin remained distant, like the whole idea of global cooperation.

  “Unfortunately, there are many successful local efforts, personal efforts, yet the realities of global politics remain,” Tamanna said.

  Tamanna took Brad directly in now, but he kept silent. His chipper outlook had so diminished. She went on about biochar fitting in better for a place with high volume vegetation biomass, higher than the Sahel. The lower plant growth of this region better depended on storing carbon in revitalized green pastures.

  Both engineers listened in silence, so she continued. Many argued wealthier people would ideally eat less meat, however, in the real world, getting their meat supplies from reclaimed desert rather than destroyed rainforest, could be a more realistic possibility.

  “Insects,” Vince said. “High protein, low fat.”

  “Possibly,” Tamanna said. “Many cultural barriers.”

  “So as you can see, other methods exist for Sahel countries to reclaim their Green Sahara,” Tamanna said. “Besides global cooling with sulphur in the stratosphere.”

  The desert had been naturally green early in the Holocene, and based solely on this, science theorized a realistic return to that state, she told them. A strong regional plan would have to be carefully thought out and coordinated among countries. It would depend not only on regional, but global cooperation. You could give the people of Niger what was so politically popular. Cultural familiarity with the Dabous giraffes helped, alongside stories of the ancient green Sahara. The final outcome would be good for everyone.

  “The president’s got posters plastered on every light pole,” Vince said. “His image beside the Dabous giraffes. He’s catching a lot of local attention on that Green Sahara idea.”

  “Yes.”

  “So...” Vince said. “What about those other Sahel countries?”

  “Yeah, how about Mali?” Brad said. “Burkina Faso.”

  Tami nodded, holding a practiced silence.

  “They should be seeing the same benefits as Niger.”

  “Yes.”

  “So, are they interested?”

  “Not everyone wants things to be good for everyone else,” Tamanna said. “We must keep this fact in mind.”

  Not only the Sahel required consideration, Tamanna knew. If one looked at any global map, more than half of the planetary land surface was or was becoming desert. This type of project on a major macro scale could address global climate issues through extensive adjusting of micro climates. Cooperation would be of the essence, Nishat said, including finance. Yet that was the missing piece. The striking lack of interest in cooperation, especially coming to the monetary part.

  “The truth be told, the OECD track record of contributing financially to the interests of the LDC the Least Developed Countries has been dismal.” Tamanna repeated Nishat’s fact. “Now for more than one reason, near all members of the LDC have joined the HICCC.”

  “So the truth be told, Ms. Meacham, we are telling you what we know,” Brad’s voice was loud. “Why don’t you tell us the truth?”

  Tami held her patient silence, as coached by Nishat.

  Brad pushed his chair back to stand.

  “We say what we can, Brad,” she said. “And we do what we must.”

  The American strode to the door. “I gotta meet Aahil,” he said. “We can talk this afternoon?” He glanced back at Vince only and his fellow engineer nodded. Brad walked out.

  “He’s pissed,” Tami said.

  “You’re not telling us everything.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Vince said. “I’m the one telling Brad if only everyone told the truth. I’m the idealist, but just say he heard me.”

  Tami nodded.

  “He’s committed to your project.”

  “I’ll take note of that. And you?”

  “Should I tell you everything?”

  “Maybe not,” she looked at him, then said. “I can tell you more, still, if you like.”

  “Sure.”

  According to that group of scientists, reversing the trend of only half the global land becoming desert would return atmospheric carbon levels to pre-industrial levels. Bringing vegetation to a place like the Sahel would actually retain surface water, a strategic objective that also resulted in cooler regional micro climates. This would certainly be one of the more preferred options at the table for the High Impact countries when they met the Economically Cooperating representatives.

  Wisdom abounded in expanding the planetary living area towards food production and creating local employment, she told him, but the HICCC could not hold its breath on a plan to reclaim the deserts through natural processes. So the consortium of climate change first-threatened countries needed have a range of options on its global choice list. The desert was immense. All that solar energy space invited photovoltaic fields, hypothetically powering European, in conjunction with if not as well as a green Sahara, from a technical outlook...

  “Parts per
million,” Vince cut in. “Carbon dioxide in the atmosphere measures in ppm. The Keeling curve measures in a 423 ppm this year, so what does that mean politically?”

  She glanced at Vince, noticing a shifting tone.

  “Back in the paleoclimatic record—the Eocene was a thermal maximum,” Tami said. “Even if you talk about 34 million years ago, science is pretty secure the atmosphere contained 1000 ppm level. And no Antarctic ice at all. So, yes, your number is correct and chances of our staying under 500 are remote. What would you say that means politically?”

  Vince stared. “No Antarctic ice.”

  “Yes,” Tamanna nodded. “In contrast, the Holocene measured 270 ppm and hasn’t varied more than 5% during that time. Our current level measures over 55% higher.”

  “What’s safe?”

  “Many scientists, but especially the bunch who followed that NASA climatologist, repeatedly published 350 ppm as a need-to-be-below target. Or not above for any extended period of time.”

  “Why so low?” Vince asked.

  “Take ocean reefs,” Tamanna said. “Coral ceases to be viable around 360 ppm. Significant, as ocean reefs hold the biodiversity of the rainforests on land.”

  “The Holocene,” Vince said. “That was kind of recent, like the last Ice Age up to now, correct? The last fifteen thousand years or so?”

  “More or less.” Tami felt a smile creep in. “Better to take the last eight thousand years, as the ice age didn’t exactly end gently. Climate change can be chaotic. The Younger Drydas was a warming trend setback, so better to go by the time frame when the climate was measurably stable.” Tami noted the spark of energy in the eyes of this Canadian. “According to the NASA climatologist, our stable climate was humanity’s gift.”

  “The Younger Drydas, what was that then?”

  Tami sensed intensity spurring his voice. “The primary theory has the fresh water of Lake Agassiz flooding over into the North Atlantic, which drastically slowed thermohaline circulation.” She watched his eyes now. “This hydro circulation can also be termed the Meridional Overturning circulation, or...what most know as the Gulf Stream.” A science backed storyline brought this engineer to life. “Whatever the cause, cooler dry ice age conditions returned for another eleven hundred years. The point being, interglacial climate did not truly stabilize until about eight thousand years ago.”

  Vince nodded, lips twitching.

  “So if we cause climate change, we bring on something chaotic like that Younger Drydas. Likely a different real effect unknown to us at this time. A destabilized climate could bring up any number of unpredictable events.”

  “You know I used your infogram list of the HICCC countries. And with that, I put together a set of numbers on carbon emissions at a national level. In a geography software with full interactive map display.”

  Vince told Tami of the numbers he discovered, and her turn to listen came. How the OECD countries, on average, emitted almost nine times as much carbon dioxide per person into the common atmosphere as the HICCC countries. “Can you believe it, nine times!” And yet, how the HICCC countries are at a much higher risk of climate change impact, even though they had so much less responsibility for the climate change gases. As Vince rattled off his numbers, Tamanna thought how to case this man’s outlook for Nishat. The G7 almost fifty percent higher than the rest of the OECD. Canada, his home country, globally among the top five countries per capita and seventh from the top for total annual emissions in spite of being thirty-third by population. She noted indignation rising in his eyes as he spoke.

  He went on until his numbers petered out.

  “Did you come upon cumulative emissions?” she asked.

  “What’s that?” Vince asked, eyes shifting alive.

  “A cumulative count would include national emissions historically, you know, back to the start of industrialization. The end of the Holocene you could say.”

  “So there could be a variation over time.” Vince stared at her. “Depending on how long a country has been burning fossil fuels. Yeah I see. I’ll see what I can find on that.”

  Tami tapped notes into her keyboard.

  “You know, Vince, I’d like a copy of those maps and emission rates. Our client would likely have an interest.” She glanced at the time on her tablet, then at her schedule. She had an online meeting with Nishat. “You fancy lunch? I could meet you down in the restaurant around noon.”

  She noticed his eyebrow rise.

  “Umm, yeah sure,” he said.

  She smiled as she rose to leave.