Solar Storm: Homeward Bound

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Solar Storm: Homeward Bound Page 7

by Vincent Keith


  “I suppose I should explain what the hell is going on. At least, what I think is going on. Then we can talk about what your plans might be.”

  “You said everyone would be walking, I don’t understand, how can that be? Why did the cars die?”

  “Well, one of three things happened. You’ll have noticed that nothing that uses electricity works anymore. No phones, or music players, nothing. Either we got hit by a gigantic solar storm, what’s called a coronal mass ejection: a CME. Or, we got hit by nukes. If it was—“

  “Nukes! Are you serious?”

  “Well, I don’t think that’s what it was, but the symptoms are consistent.”

  “I… Wait, what symptoms?”

  “The sudden death of the cars, phones, and electricity.”

  “But, you don’t think it was a nuclear attack?”

  “Not sure. If it was then what we’re seeing is the result of an Electromagnetic Pulse: an EMP. I can see two possible scenarios. A targeted EMP attack with a few nukes detonated hundreds of miles above the surface. That would be someone intending to fry our power grid, communications, computers, and cars. Or, it’s World War Three. Given the lack of evidence, or I should say given the visual evidence available, I’d say it was a CME.”

  “A CME, that sounds like something that should have burned us to a crisp.”

  “You know…” Huh, the thought never even occurred to me. “Well, we’re still here so apparently that’s not part of the problem.”

  “But, if we were nuked we’d know right?”

  “Yeah. If we and, I guess China, tossed nukes around, I suspect we’d know. If it was just an EMP attack, I’m not so sure. I’m not sure if we’d have seen a flash from a nuke 300 miles up and fifteen hundred miles east of here.”

  “So you think it was this solar storm?”

  “I do. I think between the Aurora and the lack of huge blinding flashes or mushroom clouds—It seems the most likely possibility.”

  She nodded, frowning. “So, it’s not World War Three then.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Relatively, yes. No fallout and no invading army definitely qualify as good things. I have a gut feeling that this storm was massive. It might have easily affected most of the country. Or, it could just as easily be planet wide. There’s just no way to know.”

  “So, it could be smaller?”

  “Yeah…it could be. The Quebec storm overloaded the power grid and put a million people out of power, but there were no reports of dead cars and exploding batteries.” Jack pointed skyward. “Or an aurora like that.”

  “It is—impressive,” said Rachael.

  “The only thing I have to go on are reports of the Carrington Event, and that was 1859. The information is kind of sketchy. I think it covered most of the world. Eyewitness reports from all across the US spoke of the Aurora, and there were more than a few reports from Australia. Some said it was bright enough to read by. Considering I can read the back of the spaghetti pouch—I’d say this one was at least that big.”

  “The first night I thought it was a full moon. I’m not sure, but I believe that it’s not quite as bright as it was last night.”

  Jack nodded, hoping she was right. “The basics seem to work like this. The sun goes through cycles of activity. A cycle is about eleven years long. So every eleven years we have a maximum of solar activity in the form of sun spots. At the minimum, we see one CME every couple of days, but at the solar maximum, it’s upwards of three or four per day. The strength and size of those vary a lot. Also, it’s rare for one to be pointing in the right direction to hit us.”

  “So, this has happened before, it’s not something new?”

  “No, it’s not new. Often it’s a little one, but there have been a few big ones. Anyway, this activity, these solar storms happen all the time. Sometimes plasma erupts from the surface in a big arching loop. I mean huge. If my mug were the loop, the Earth would be smaller than a dime. Keep in mind, I’m not a solar scientist so…”

  Rachael nodded and motioned for him to continue.

  “Okay, there’s a connection between sunspots, solar flares, and coronal mass ejections, but it’s all a bit fuzzy. A CME can result from a solar flare or a solar prominence where the magnetic lines of force cross at the base and toss off the big loop of plasma. In either case, the result is a blob of highly charged protons and electrons that are tossed out into space. If it’s heading the right way, we collide with it. Flares also put out a flash of gamma and x-ray radiation resulting in the severe disruption in radio communications and satellite electronics. It doesn’t affect things on the surface all that much. The atmosphere is too thick for the x-rays to make it to the surface. A CME is different. When the mass of highly charged particles hit the Earth, it reacts with the Earth’s magnetosphere.”

  “So we’re not getting hit by particles from the sun?”

  “I’m not sure…sort of? I mean, we’re always getting hit by them in the form of the solar wind. But most of it doesn’t make it through the magnetosphere. But, that’s not what causes the significant problems. The magnetosphere gets pushed out of shape, very compressed on the sunward side and stretched out on the outward side. When it snaps back into place, and these magnetic lines of force reconnect they cause an EMP which generates massive electrical currents. My reading leads me to believe that the strength of the pulse depends on how much energy the CME transfers to the Earth’s magnetosphere.”

  Jack retrieved the hot chocolate from the grill and started the next pot of water. He filled his own mug, then the two insulated plastic cups that Rachael handed him.

  “They call it a geomagnetic storm, but it’s caused by that solar storm. That’s part of the reason it’s confusing. Sunspots, solar flares, solar prominences, coronal mass ejections, the solar wind, and geomagnetic storms are all linked in various ways. The result is that we get tremendous surges in electrical currents that damage electronics and power lines. I think there’s a range of frequencies that a pulse releases or that might only be the nuclear EMP… I’m not sure.”

  Jack waved his hands as if chasing off some annoying mosquitos. “I wish I could explain this better.”

  “You’re doing fine. It’s not like we have a big TV that you can put nice color diagrams up on. Keep going.”

  Jack sighed. “Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, frequencies. ELF and ULF get picked up by long metal structures which act as an antenna.”

  Lexi giggled, “elves?”

  Jack’s eyebrows went up, and he was about to ask when he realized what he’d said. “Oh, sorry. E-L-F gets pronounced elf…I think. I picked that up in college physics. It stands for Extremely Low Frequency, and ULF is Ultra-Low Frequency—around three hundred hertz up to around three thousand hertz. The antenna needs to be huge. Power lines, pipelines, rail lines, stuff like that. Much higher frequencies affect smaller things like computers and communication gear. If the amount of energy is big enough, it will melt power lines and blow up the big transfer stations, in effect shutting down the power grid.”

  Jack poked at the fire. “This was a big one. It fried the electronics in my truck and blew up the battery. Every vehicle I’ve come across is dead. My cameras were all dead as was my cell phone, and I’m sure yours were too.”

  Rachael sat considering “So… How do you know all that? I thought you said you were a gunsmith?”

  Jack laughed, “Yep, and before that, I was a photographer. But I read a lot. I went through a bit of a life change several years ago. I was still doing photography, and most of my paying work was for magazines…”

  SHIFTING PERSPECTIVES

  —TWELVE YEARS EARLIER—

  The housing bubble had just popped, and the economy was in the tank. Jack’s photography business had taken a turn for the worse as magazines failed and art sales tapered off to nothing. The life of a professional photographer was one of simply getting by—with a few rare exceptions. Sure, there we
re a few winners of the photographic lottery, but only a few. Jack had been on the edge of real success but never crossed the line.

  In the world of magazines, the market for complete articles with photographs was still going strong. Sadly, the pay wasn’t what it used to be. The overall market for content was huge, but the demand had shifted to shorter pieces with low-quality images. Most websites wanted royalty free images, making them useless to the professional photographer. Print magazines paid better than the few websites who were willing pay for images. Corporate annual reports were using fewer images or switching to stock photography. It didn’t seem to matter if you were an architectural photographer like Jack or a wedding photographer, business was down.

  Jack picked up a copy of a new magazine on one of his jobs. The tagline read Live smaller — Live more, it specialized in tiny homes and sustainable living. He called the art director and discussed the possibility of some assignment work. The new magazine was happy to get someone with experience. They paired him up with an enthusiastic young woman with a freshly minted degree in journalism. He and Julie were working on their third assignment when he met Henry.

  Henry Monk lived in the eastern foothills of the Cascade Mountains a few hours west of Jack’s home in Spokane. Active in the minimalist movement for over ten years, Henry lived in a beautiful little 720 square foot log cabin. The property had a large garden plot with a greenhouse, a lot of pine trees, and backed against a small river.

  Jack had arrived early that morning to get the best light and had continued to work while listening as Julie interviewed Mr. Monk. They’d covered a wide range of topics including gardening, brewing, livestock, even disaster preparation. Henry had made a point of bringing up preparedness and asking her to include it in the article. It was something of a personal crusade for him.

  Julie had packed up and headed back to Portland to outline the article. She wouldn’t write it until Jack sent her the images. Jack ran though his shot list, making sure he’d covered everything that Julie thought she might need. From early morning scenic shots to the detail shots of the solar water pump, the list included thirty-one items, and Jack had at least four images for each. With the job requirements covered, he packed up his gear and joined Henry for a beer.

  They sat on the back porch sampling Henry’s most recent brew, a red wheat ale.

  “So Jack, what kind of disaster plans and preparations have you undertaken?”

  “Disaster? What disaster?” Jack looked up from his last note and took a sip from the iced mug.

  “Doesn’t matter, an earthquake would be one, a couple of weeks without power from a winter storm, lots of things.”

  “Nothing much, I suppose I should stock up on flashlights and get a few weeks of food...”

  “Sure, but what if it’s bigger and lasts longer?”

  “Well, the only asteroid I’ve read about that might hit us is Apophis, but that’s twenty or thirty years away.” Jack chuckled. “So what else?”

  “Apophis is a low probability issue at the moment. They’ve adjusted their estimates a few times, who knows what may happen as it gets closer. I’m more concerned with things that can happen without notice. Things like the Cascadia quake or an EMP from either a terrorist attack or a significant Solar event. Even Yellowstone blowing, or a worldwide pandemic.”

  “I’ve heard of EMP. That’s an Electromagnetic Pulse, right? And I’ve been to Yellowstone several times. A volcano that big would be scary. But I’ve never heard of the Cascadia quake.”

  “Let’s just take ‘em one at a time,” said Henry. “Yellowstone is straight forward. It is the largest of three super volcanos in the US. The other two are the Long Valley caldera in eastern California and the Valles Caldera in Northern New Mexico. There are six worldwide, depending on how you define the term. Yellowstone has a history of blowing every six hundred thousand years give or take. Some folks claim we’re forty thousand years overdue. But I’m not convinced we can be anywhere near that accurate. When Yellowstone lets loose, we’re talking about deaths numbered in millions or more. Long term, significantly more.”

  “Wait a sec,” said Jack “that can’t possibly be right, Wyoming doesn’t have that many people.”

  “The blast isn’t the problem,” said Henry. “It’s the ash. That much ash will affect the climate for years. Before that becomes a problem, the ash fallout could destroy our transportation system, and we won’t recover before we run out of food. Growing new crops under several inches of ash won’t work. The jet stream will push most of the ash southeast. Predictive maps from the USGS show less than two inches here. Even that amount has me worried considering the area of coverage. That’s two inches covering the entire area from Seattle to Los Angeles, east to the Great Lakes and down to Northern Texas.

  Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah will see upwards of three feet. Parts of the corn belt could get anywhere between four and twelve inches. Atlantic states will get less than a half inch. I know that doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’s hugely destructive to mechanical systems. And, less than a quarter of an inch of ash can be deadly to livestock.”

  “But Saint Helens didn’t cause nearly that much trouble, and the ash went all the way to Idaho.”

  “Yes, it did. And it was a tiny little firecracker in comparison. But the coverage area is like comparing a sheet of paper to a football field.”

  “Yellowstone is that big?”

  “Yep. Most grocery stores have enough stock to last about three days without deliveries under normal shopping conditions. If Yellowstone blows, you won’t have normal shopping conditions. What you’ll have is panic buying and the stores will be empty within a day. Faster if the media reports the truth. If they stay quiet, the big stores might last three or four days. Once the trucks are off the roads, food deliveries stop and the stores will be out of food. If you couldn’t buy food, how long could you hold out if Yellowstone exploded at midnight tonight?”

  “Oh,” said Jack.

  Henry could see the wheels turning as Jack worked through the problem.

  “Okay, that would suck, but wouldn’t the government handle food deliveries in a disaster?”

  “For a small part of some of the major cities. Vehicles and personnel will be too limited to cover the whole country, and they’ll also lose vehicles. Consider Hurricane Katrina and New Orleans. A single large city and things went completely wrong. Now imagine forty to sixty percent of the country in worse trouble.

  They’ll pick the biggest population centers because that’s the only possible path. The rural places like us will be out of luck. New York and some of the other larger east coast cities will have mobility for a while. They won’t be able to do anything much west of the Mississippi where the ash will be measured in feet. We can look forward to near total crop failure for several years in a row. “

  “Wow… Why don’t they tell people things like that?”

  “Oh, I suspect there are plenty of reasons. If you told everyone, more than half of them would expect the government to fix it, and they can’t. Not without changing the system, which is rigged to keep people depending on the government, not to mention the corporations who also want that dependency. They’d have to persuade everyone to stock up a year or more of food, which very few people can afford. Besides, if no one wanted or needed the government’s support, what would the politicians promise people to get elected?”

  “Do you really think it’s that bad?”

  “No, I really think it’s much worse. Is your email on your business card?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good enough, I’ll email you a page of links to websites. Educate yourself. I think you’re in for a lot of surprises. Come back and visit in a couple of months and bring a list of questions, and we’ll go over them. If I tried to explain it all now, we’d be here for a solid week. Do the research and make up your own mind. Oh, I’ll list the conspiracy sites you can skip. There are a few I read, but you have to be careful about going dow
n that path.”

  “That’s okay, I don’t buy into the whole conspiracy thing, there’s no way they can expect to keep anything that big a secret.”

  “Mostly true, and they don’t try. Why worry about keeping it a secret? It’s much easier to discredit whistleblowers or destroy their lives. Do enough of that, and no one wants to join the club.”

  “I… Huh. So you believe in those conspiracies?”

  “Belief isn’t quite the right word, there are a few I’m not so sure about. I don’t like where the evidence trails disappear. Feels too much like they told someone to drop the investigation. You can ignore them. It’s not like we’re in a position to do anything about them. That’s one reason they don’t care about keeping complete secrets or doing perfect cover-ups. Just discredit the first bunch of whistle-blowers after which you can’t get enough people to consider the idea to matter.”

  “Wow. That’s not very comforting.”

  Henry chuckled. “Occupational hazard, if you spend all your time looking for trouble, you will find it. Sometimes it won’t really be there. Fairly often actually. I’d be surprised if one in a hundred of the theories I’ve read about have any basis in reality. Better to focus on predictable things or events you can plan for.”

  “Is the Cascade earthquake predictable?”

  “Cascadia. No, not really, it’s more of a matter of estimating the probability. The Cascadia Subduction Zone is a fault line off the coast of Washington and runs from Northern Vancouver Island down to Mendocino California. The New Juan de Fuca plate is created by volcanic activity out in the Pacific and is pushed toward the North American Plate. Where they meet, the Juan de Fuca plate dives under the North American plate. Due to enormous friction, it binds up until the pressure hits a point where it breaks free. It lets loose on average every three hundred and fifty to five hundred years. It’s been over 300 since the last one.”

 

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