Pinatubo II
Page 50
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“Pretty dramatic.” Vince glanced up at Tamanna as they sat in the next room.
“We negotiate. Nishat insisted on a mature conversation, with someone able to comprehend when and where cooperation becomes an absolute necessity. With at least a national minister. She does not want more bickering amongst playground school boys over who wins.” She slapped her fingers on the table edge. “She wants us to speak directly to the truth, about where responsibility lies, and about the real impact of climate crisis. Based on non-politicized science.”
She leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed.
“Despite our best intentions, Vince, that was rubbish. But we take it as opportunity. I twig now why Nishat didn’t attend. She always has more than one strategy. She now depends on her messengers, and she needs our message to be crystal clear.” Her look hardened more. “If she decides to proceed, your presentation will be critical.”
Vince nodded.
Tamanna raised her device and selected a number, holding her forefinger up as it buzzed.
Vince stood, drifting back to the window, to the starlit evening…his device buzzed and he pulled his eyes from reverie to Jeenyus, reading. Daddy I saw my furst star I see tonite. His face softened. I made a wish but I’m not telling it. He thumbed in his reply, Okay baby, your secret. But tell me, what color was the sky?
He pushed send.
Much talk here on how they had but one planet, with one atmosphere and one climate. Impact of some type will show up everywhere. Some effect will transform life back home.
The buzz. The sky was bluey darc. But Daddy, my star wuz whit. The times he picked her up from school, he could hear her happy laughter; almost feel her tiny hand in his. He struggled to keep it together, blinking hard. How would he tell her, one day, what her Daddy’s time in Africa meant? Physics explained the change of sky color, but it’s the sky of her future too. The why-of-it-all raged at him, with his little daughter’s life hanging out in the storm. He felt torn, what he did now either way, no question, would have consequence. He’d take on the risk of an eco-terrorist label, not claiming ignorance, an engineer following contract specs. To take the right side and take on a role cast as the bad guy, never again on the do-nothing side. One day he’d explain to her, somehow.
Was he responsible? The furst star, the one his daughter always waited on as the sky darkened before bedtime. If he could have found that same twinkling brightness...he had a wish for Annalise. Amidst the back and forth, among the swirl of terror and tension, the political drama did nothing but enhance that inner pervading elation. A game changer, and he’d play the game for what’s real, for his daughter. The idea of acting as negotiator, sure storyteller, had brought that on. He’d become an ex-oil company engineer—or eco-terrorist depending who was talking.