by Niko Perren
“If you’d bothered to ask my opinion earlier,” she sneered, “I could have saved us all some trouble. However, I’m confident I can still provide a much-needed perspective to this clown show.”
The rest of the team watched the exchange with reactions ranging from bemused horror to embarrassment, but Singh shrugged it off. “Patricia, I’d like you to meet Tian Jie.”
She twitched her head in Jie’s direction. “Mmmm…”
“We met this morning,” said Jie. He offered his hand with what he hoped was a conciliatory smile. “I look forward…”
Ivanov brushed past him and dropped into a chair. “I don’t respond well to fawning admiration.” She gave Singh a withering look. “I can’t believe we’re taking Nanoglass seriously. It’s completely unproven. And we’ll be reliant on Mr. Tian here to make it work. Look at him. He’s a hack.”
Jie imagined putting a sword through her, though Sharon looked like she’d get there first.
Patricia slapped her omni onto the table, then snapped her scroll open to a medium tablet size. She reviewed her notes, then turned on Sharon. “So you want to replace our entire design and start from scratch? On the moon? How do I even critique something so absurd?”
“We’re not starting from scratch,” said Sharon. “Our government’s spent a trillion dollars on the lunar base. And the robotics this team created for the disk array are reusable. I’m offering to get 30 million kilograms of material to L1 for the cost of a getting a mass driver to the moon.”
“The moon base has been deserted for fifteen years,” said Ivanov. “What makes you think the facility is still usable?”
“We’ve got remote monitoring on most of it,” said Sharon.
“Most?” asked Patricia. “Very reassuring. I’m sure a few small failures won’t be a problem. Just nip over to the hardware store, right?”
“Or the 3D printer,” said Sharon.
But Patricia had done her homework: the moon-base was old, nobody designed manned spacecraft anymore, the mass driver technology was unproven. Sharon answered well, but enough doubts arose to induce a feeling of tension that saw everyone sitting forward in their chairs, searching for the solid ground of confidence. Within two hours, Jie was convinced that the moon base was a disaster waiting to happen. Who would be crazy enough to man such a place?
Then it was Jie’s turn to be interrogated. Ivanov circled the table like a shark around a rubber dinghy. Don’t let her intimidate me. Just tell the truth.
“You have no idea how to mass produce the Nanoglass tiles, do you?” she started.
“I haven’t tried yet,” said Jie. “But nanolabs and nanofactories are established technology, as you know.”
“How will you stop the iron particles from causing quantum fasciculation?”
Quantum what? Is she making this up? No, surely she wouldn’t stoop to such tactics.
“Never mind.” Ivanov humphed and looked at Singh. “Are you really going to make me do this?”
Singh sighed. “Please, Patricia. Constructive, not destructive. You’ve made your point. It’s not easy. But let’s at least assume Nanoglass can be made on Earth, and concentrate on the lunar specific issues.”
“You can get anywhere you want if you start with a false assumption,” Ivanov said petulantly. “But fine. Jie. Nanolabs filter out completed particles using a gravity trap. How are you going to adjust for the lower lunar gravity?”
“I don’t know yet,” said Jie. “We will figure it out.”
“Excuse me, I’m lost. Can you explain what the nanolab does?” asked Sharon.
“It’s the step before mass production,” said Ivanov. “The nanolab is the machine in which people like Jie experiment with different manufacturing techniques. When they find one that works, they replicate it at a large scale in a nanofactory.”
Jie nodded. “And what Patricia is getting at is that at a nanoscale, a process that works on Earth may not work on moon. Things get really weird when dealing with individual atoms.”
Ivanov shot him a dark look, as if he had just stolen her thunder. “Which brings me to my next concern,” she said. “What about the particle polarizers? How will you compensate for the moon’s lack of magnetic field?”
“I don’t know that it will be an issue… External magnets perhaps? We have to figure that out, too.”
She stopped directly behind him, so that he had to twist his neck to see her. “Who’s we?” she asked. “Are you going to the moon?”
“What? Me? Of course not. Are you crazy?”
“So you’ll just simulate lunar conditions here on Earth?” She made a dismissive noise. “That’ll work well. We’ll just turn down the gravity.”
“I’ll use the software simulator,” said Jie.
“The software simulator doesn’t have configurable gravity,” said Ivanov. “I just talked to the designers. That’s why I’m late.” She looked down at her scroll. “I quote: ‘We don’t use a physics engine. Gravity is too complex on a quantum scale, and solving M-Theory equations is not practical in realtime. We interpolate loop quantum gravity using data that we’ve generated from experimental observation.’”
Coffee cups and electronics littered the smooth glass table. A dozen world-class scientists watched Jie squirm.
“Well, I guess I could do it remotely…”
“There’s a two-second communication delay. So you can’t run the nanolab remotely. By the time you close the molecular tweezers, your particle will be gone.” She looked around the room triumphantly.
“So train one of my astronauts,” said Sharon. She caught herself. “If I’m put in charge of the lunar team, that is.”
No. Not a good suggestion. Jie cut in before Ivanov could tear into Sharon. “The nanolab is very hard to use, especially for somebody who not know the problem domain. It is science, but also art. It took me years to become an expert.” He shook his head. “Tā naǐ naǐ dè! It is easier to teach astronauts brain surgery.”
What little optimism had survived Ivanov’s interrogation of Sharon was leaking out of the room.
“I think we’re done here,” said Ivanov, “I have important research to get back to.”
Singh looked around the room. “Is this a show stopper?”
Nobody answered. The background picture on Jie’s omni showed Cheng, on their trip to the Beijing Zoo last summer. They’d gone during a rare break in the dust storms. Waited three hours to get into the panda exhibit. By the time Cheng is old enough to act, it will be too late. There’s no pausing this game. No replays.
‹I’m just the elf,› the photo seemed to say. ‹I’m only a kid. You’re supposed to make my world safe for me.›
Jie swallowed. This isn’t fair. I didn’t create our climate problems. I recycle. I take public transit. Yet other parents had burdens too. They worked in African mines for months at a time. Or risked their lives in the Chinese occupation forces in Saudi Arabia.
Sharon’s mouth moved, as if she were reading his thoughts. She went up with three people and returned alone. And those people had training.”
Singh shook his head. “It was a good idea. But I don’t see a way forward. Not in the time we’ve got.”
“There is one way,” blurted Jie. Everyone turned to look at him.
“I could go to the moon,” he said. “If necessary, I could go.”
Besides. It’s not like I’ll really have to go. We just need some time to think our way past these problems.
Chapter 9
ENEWS: FEBRUARY 22, 2050
FIVE are dead after federal riot police opened fire on a flash-mob in Washington. An estimated 200,000 people turned up at an event called “remember” after anonymous posts urging an investigation into the government’s failure to avert the current environmental crisis went viral.
President Juarez defended the action. “Security forces must protect themselves,” she said. “These are violent radicals, with no leader or agenda. If we do not maintain law and order, we i
nvite anarchy.”
Juarez vehemently denied that security forces roughed up Oregon Senator Kyle Harris, who had spoken to the crowd earlier. “It’s a transparent attempt by my political opponents to use this unrest for their own gain.”
***
Sunday afternoon found Boulder temperatures in the seventies under a brilliant, unsulfured blue sky. On a whim, Tania walked out of the campus and onto a footpath leading into the mountains. She opened her arms, like a flower to the sun. One last breath before the storm. Never lose connection with the source of your passion.
Besides, if she had to deal with one more uncooperative staffer, she’d be calling Tengri’s hit man herself. She still wasn’t sure what Wong’s motives had been for cutting audits and offering to remove funding from the UNBio preserves. But it was clear he had a small cadre of loyalists. Something she’d have to deal with in the coming weeks.
She walked up the steep dirt path, letting her mind slip into nature’s peace. Charred stumps studded the grassy hill, remnants of the days before drought and fire had driven pine trees off the Rockies’ eastern slopes. In places, rows of dead seedlings still marked the last attempt to save the forest. But this was cactus and tamarisk country now. In two hundred years it might be dunes. Though not if I can help it. A jogger wheezed by, then a couple walking their dog. Tania found a rock, sat down, and savored the stillness.
The ring of her omni cut the quiet mountain air. Khan Tengri! At last! Tania answered the call. “Khan? Will that new material work? Please tell me that Molari came through with a viable plan B.”
“Hello to you too, Tania,” said Tengri. “I’m sending the details. But yes, a Nanoglass-based design could be complete in eighteen months. It’s a lot cheaper too, so even if we need to divert some of the UNBio preserve budget, the impact will be much reduced.” A ding from her omni marked the arrival of a document.
Tania leapt to her feet. “Eighteen months! That’s fantastic!” But Tengri wasn’t smiling. “So what’s the downside? How risky is this?”
“Insane was the word Molari used,” said Tengri. “I think he couldn’t find a stronger adjective. Nanoglass has never been tested outside the lab. They have no idea how to manufacture it yet. And,” he paused for effect, “they’re sending the Chinese engineer who invented it to the moon.”
“The moon?” Tania asked. “As in the big white thing that goes around the earth?” She reflexively scanned the sky, but saw only blue. “Why?”
“So they can make the Nanoglass there and slingshot it to L1 using a mass driver instead of carrying it from Earth on thousands of rockets.” Tengri shook his head. “There’s a risk distribution attached to the proposal.”
“If the budget is lower, can we hedge our bets by funding both designs for a while?”
“Not if you want to save the preserves,” said Tengri. “The original plan’s costs are mostly up front: building new space centers. So all the arguments for diverting preserve funding will remain. And once the UN starts tapping that money, I doubt they’re going to give it back even if the program is cancelled. Do you follow the stock markets?”
“No.” Tania smiled. “Perhaps if you gave me a raise.”
Tengri ignored her attempt at humor. “Shares in aerospace companies spiked in the weeks before the disk array announcement.”
Tania sat back on the rock. “Meaning…?”
“Who had deep pockets and knew about the disk array?” asked Tengri. “It was secret.”
Tania thought for a moment. “Only the members of the Climate Council knew… Are you saying they bought shares in aerospace companies, to profit when the disk array is built?”
“Probably nothing quite that overt,” said Tengri. “But yes, there’s a lot of insider money betting on the disk array. So if we push Nanoglass…”
“…then some powerful people will be very unhappy,” finished Tania.
Tengri nodded. “The Europeans jumped the gun this morning and announced a new space center in France,” he said. “They’re trying to force your hand.”
“Then they’re going to look like fools,” said Tania. “You can still orchestrate a move from the disk array to the Nanoglass shield, right? Assuming the simulations show it’s worth the risk.”
“It’s not quite that simple,” said Tengri. “Political consensus is hard to build and easy to destroy. So yes, I can convince the UN General Assembly to oppose the disk array, even if the Climate Council is still backing it. But building a new consensus around Nanoglass will be much harder. Fortunately, Nanoglass is cheap enough that we don’t need a consensus. I only need to find one government willing to pay for it.”
“Won’t that divide the UN?” asked Tania.
“Yes,” said Tengri. “And that worries me. Whomever ends up in control will have a lot of unchecked power.”
“I’m glad that’s your department,” said Tania. “Let me get this data to my simulations guys. We can compare both plans and see which way we need to steer this. Given how risky this sounds, maybe the disk array is still the best option.”
“In the meantime, I’ll start making some inquiries to see if I can find a sponsor for the Nano-glass shield,” said Tengri. “It’s going to be an interesting week.”
***
Gordon walked into Tania’s office five days later, brandishing his omni. “Done,” he announced. “A full statistical breakdown: The Nanoglass shield versus the disk array. We simulated the effects of weather control by filtering out extreme events. And where the audit data was dubious, I used a least-squares extrapolation from the last good sample.” He tapped his omni to her display. “Brace yourself.”
He hovered behind her, pacing back and forth as Tania scrolled through the pages.
“My God,” said Tania. “How can these numbers be correct? The disk array leads to a billion deaths? A billion?” She pushed herself back from the desk, as if distance might make sense of the graphs.
“I thought there was some error in my code,” said Gordon, scratching at his gray stubble. “But it checks out. As we suspected, the disk array takes too long.” He leaned over, zooming in on a section of the graph. “If we aren’t pushing temperatures down within two years, we’ll lose the rest of the West Antarctic Ice Sheet. Tenmeter sea level rises. Methane bubbling out of the Arctic Ocean.”
Tania massaged her temples. “So we have to sulfur, which causes more monsoon failures when global food stockpiles are already decimated from the last ones. Wars break out. A billion deaths over ten years. Got it.” After two centuries of Malthusian false alarms, Earth’s wealth had finally run out. The oceans barren. The best farmland poisoned by over-fertilizing, or salted by over-watering. Aquifers sucked dry. Mighty rivers turned to dust as their glacial anchors vanished. What does a billion deaths even look like?
“If we changed food distribution it would help,” said Gordon hopefully.
President Juarez whispered in Tania’s memory: “Do you know how powerful the cattle lobbies are?”
“That won’t happen,” said Tania. “At least not to the extent we need.”
She felt sick. Displaced. Like the whole conversation was happening to somebody else, some stranger she didn’t care about. She stood up, paced to the window. A billion. Puffy white clouds rolled down the barren mountain slopes.
“So show me Nanoglass,” she said. “Is it an alternative?”
“It’s both better, and worse,” said Gordon. “There’s a wider range of possibilities. If everything goes right and we combine it with good planetary management, we can cut off much of the crisis. But if something goes wrong with the lunar manufacturing, we could be waiting ten years instead of five. Although even then, fatalities only go up to 1.2 billion.”
“Because the vulnerable can’t starve to death twice,” said Tania.
“Pretty much,” said Gordon.
“So what do the numbers say?” asked Tania. “If you factor in the probability of various outcomes, is the Nanoglass shield worth the risk?”
“It depends how you weight things,” said Gordon. “But it’s our only chance at a way out.”
Tania spun her gorilla coin on the desk. She could taste the burning forest, feel the ash. “We should call Tengri,” she said.
They caught Khan Tengri on a diplomatic trip; his background a privacy gray that nearly matched his suit, making his head look like it was mounted on his red tie. He listened somberly, occasionally asking questions, as Tania and Gordon laid out both scenarios. There was a long pause when they finished.
“So, what now?” Tengri asked. “This is your call, Tania.”
“I didn’t take this job to lose,” said Tania. “I want to bet on Nanoglass. Hope that Tian Jie is as talented as everyone says. Otherwise the coming decade is going to make the Black Death look like a birthday party at Great Burger of the People.”
“For what it’s worth,” said Tengri, “I agree. And I’m not surprised. That’s why I appointed you. But the Climate Council is going to be very unhappy. Some of them are,” he glanced at Gordon, clearly not sure how much he should say in front of Tania’s staff, “…heavily invested.”
“But you can find a government willing to build the shield, right?” asked Tania.
Tengri nodded grimly. “I already did. The Chinese President called me yesterday. Mr. Lui said China will build the Nanoglass shield by themselves if necessary. He said he can’t risk another round of climate refugees on their south borders.”
“He called yesterday?” Tania looked at the ceiling tiles, half expecting to see a dangling spy camera. “Gordon only got the results an hour ago. How did Lui know what I was going to recommend?”
“Molari Industries is Chinese. And the Chinese government has climate scientists too.” Tengri sucked a sharp breath through his teeth. “This is going to be messy. China’s on the Climate Council. The other members will see it as a betrayal. At least with the disk array, we had a widespread alliance built on mutual greed. But now it’s just a China show. That much power in one place scares the crap out of me.”