by Niko Perren
Outside the hotel room window the Sao Paulo street buzzed with activity. At 43 million people, the sprawling Brazilian megacity was a world unto its own. A good place to start their international Pax Gaia tour, especially since China had denied them visas.
Witty’s face appeared where the video had been. “Rodelia Flint? Is that really your name, Ruth? It’s kinda catchy.”
“Don’t you dare,” snapped Ruth. “I had it legally changed in high-school. Do I look like a Rodelia to you?”
“Definitely not,” said Tania. Witty looked poised to say something else, but Tania managed to cut him off with a warning glance. It had been a long flight to Brazil. “How long have these ads been running?”
“They started a few hours ago,” said Witty. “A very expensive campaign. Tier one opt-in.”
“Tier one?” Ruth whistled.
“Meaning?” asked Tania. “I don’t watch TV unless I’ve paid to have the ads scraped out.”
“I find that as admirable on a personal level as I find it threatening on a professional one,” said Witty. “Fortunately for me, most people are happy to watch a few minutes of advertising to get a free show. That’s opt-in. The tier is the precision of targeting. This ad only hits people whose media consumption shows that they’re natural Pax Gaia supporters. And there are four different flavors. You saw the middle class one. There’s also a blue collar ad, a business ad, and a youth ad.”
“And who paid for this?” asked Tania. “Environmental Citizens for a Green Future? It sounds like a group of seniors who plant trees in their spare time.”
“They’re a consortium of mining and chemical companies,” said Witty. “They registered the trademark yesterday. Along with Youth for Earth and two others. It’s called astroturfing. Give themselves a nice name that sounds like a citizens’ group. Coal and oil companies perfected the practice when they were still denying climate change.”
“Their claims are total BS!” said Tania. “Is it legal to lie about us like that?”
“Probably not,” said Witty. “An elected official would have recourse under the Truth in Politics Act. But our only option is civil courts. That would take years, and then we’d find out we’d sued a shell company.”
“I guess we know what the United States business community thought about my Washington presentation yesterday,” said Tania. Yesterday? Was Washington really just yesterday? At least they’d lost the bodyguards who’d plagued their three-day US whirlwind. Their jurisdiction ended at the border.
“I don’t know why you even bothered talking to the suits,” said Ruth. “We’re advocating more green taxes. It’s like trying to sell an asteroid to the dinosaurs.”
“I was trying to impress the mammals,” said Tania. “There are lots of new companies who would love to compete on a level playing field. Green technology is only expensive if the earth is worth nothing.”
“What do our awareness numbers say?” Ruth asked Witty. “Keyword searches? Text messages? Are we having an impact?”
“Don’t worry about the awareness numbers,” said Witty.
“That bad?” groaned Ruth.
“Stay focused and hope that something catches on,” said Witty. “Keep up the interviews and public appearances.”
Tania groaned. “I don’t know that my voice is going to last.”
***
Venues blurred together: Sao Paolo, Buenos Aires, Guadalajara, Mexico City, and now London. In Pax Gaia’s greatest moments, Tania stood in front of a huge audience, explaining what their city and country might look like 20 years down the road. Witty’s media advisors combed through social networks to find out which issues were most pressing. In Mexico, she talked about expanding the volcano parks. Today, she’d talk about the Thames River and hyperloop links to the Welsh countryside. Each speech was different. Each needed practice.
On the wall screen, the introductory speaker was just stepping on stage. Tania yawned despite the coffee she’d just downed and rested her forehead on the green room makeup table. She’d slept little on the plane from Mexico.
Ruth popped her face through the door. “Are you resting? Or can I come in?”
“No, please, come in.” Tania made herself sit up. “Did you reach the UK Prime Minister’s Office?”
“He’s sympathetic, but he won’t meet with us,” said Ruth. “Same with the Dutch Prime Minister and the German Chancellor.”
Tania bared her teeth at the ceiling. “Arrrrrrggh. Tengri has over fifty countries ready to support Pax Gaia behind the scenes. But everyone’s scared of our poll numbers.”
“Chicken and egg,” said Ruth. “Juarez has played this brilliantly. Our support is limited by our lack of media coverage. And our media coverage is limited by our lack of support. It’s a perfect knot. No country is going to risk pissing off the new climate overlords by joining us.”
The muffled sound of cheering filtered through the door as the speaker finished his introduction. My first European audience. Hello nerves! They stepped into a gloomy hallway, and pushed the stage door open a crack.
“Two thousand people,” said Ruth. “Including British cabinet members, and a number of business leaders. You’ll like Europe. The general public are much more tuned in to the environment than we are at home.”
Preaching to the choir, in other words. Which is fine. The choir also needs a sermon now and then. Tania adjusted her blouse. “How do I look?” It came out as a hoarse croak.
“Beautiful,” said Ruth. Apparently the word ‘beautiful’ also meant ‘exhausted’ in Ruth speak.
Tania stepped onto the stage. She lingered at the spotlight’s edge, taking it all in. The auditorium was a beautifully restored theatre dating back to the 16th century. She had no idea how Witty’s publicity team was managing it, but in every city the venues had gotten nicer. As if Witty were apologizing for not putting them on his show.
Breathe. Step forward. Thunderous applause. Two thousand faces cheered Tania, until the audience lights dimmed, leaving her alone. She could see only blackness beyond the spotlights. It’s like I’m talking to the void. But the darkness was alive, listening. She sensed none of the muted skepticism that had greeted her speeches in Washington and New York. When she told the story of the gorilla on her first triage in Africa 15 years earlier, the hall fell so quiet she could hear her heart. And when she explained how the green-spaces around London could be linked into a continuous wilderness area, the audience rustled with possibility.
The hour flew by. And when it was over, she knew she had them.
Two thousand more converts.
Out of 8 billion.
How do politicians manage this pace for a two-year election campaign? Maybe I’m not narcissistic enough.
Tania retreated to the green room. She slumped into the chair. “That went well,” she croaked.
“You sound like a wounded gravel pit,” said Ruth. “You might have to take a few days off. Get one of the other Pax Gaia planners to speak.”
“Witty’s throat spray works,” whispered Tania. “Kills the pain just long enough.”
Ruth’s nose wrinkled with disapproval. “That stuff can’t be good for you. You need to rest your voice. As soon as you talk to one more person.”
“Ruth, I can’t even think straight any more. Please don’t make me do another interview.”
“It’s the South African President. His office called while you were on stage. He’ll be calling you himself at 20:00.”
Mbani? Calling me? Tania hadn’t heard from him since she’d backed him down over the Knysna Preserve. Why him? They found a private office. 20:00 came, and then passed. 20:15. 20:20. Ruth rubbed Tania’s shoulders as Tania struggled not to drift off. Is this what they mean by Africa time? Maybe he won’t call after all. And then her omni buzzed, and Mbani’s smiling face appeared on the screen.
“Doctor Tania Black!” His voice was rich as fresh-ground coffee. “You have proven yourself a force of nature.”
“Thank you,” sai
d Tania, speaking softly so that her voice wouldn’t crack. Mbani’s expression was difficult to read.
“Khan Tengri has been quite persistent about Pax Gaia. My advisors tell me that the plan is good. Opinion polls show that it could have broad public support here in South Africa, if we gave it a little push. So I would like to help you.”
In an instant, Tania was awake.
“There are other leaders who feel like I do,” continued Mbani. “Can you meet us in Cape Town? Tomorrow?”
Tania froze the call. “Ruth, can you handle Belgium and Amsterdam?”
Ruth nodded enthusiastically. “Go! This is it! The political endorsement we’ve been waiting for.” She winked. “Don’t hesitate to sleep with him if you have to.”
Tania punched Ruth in the arm hard enough to stop her laughter. She resumed the call. “I’ll book a flight.”
“No need,” said Mbani. “One of my private jets can pick you up this evening. I’ll have a car routed over to fetch you.”
A private jet? Relief mixed with guilt. As somebody who cycled and rode public transit, a private jet seemed insanely extravagant. Not to mention the hypocritical message it would send. But I can’t function if I don’t get some sleep.
“Fantastic,” she said, before her conscience got the better of her.
***
Khan Tengri answered Tania’s call from a leather chair. The room had a low, curved ceiling and the wall behind him featured a prominent UN logo. Airplane? Stress creased his forehead.
“Khan, I thought you were in New York?”
“Pakistan launched air strikes against India’s dams on the Indus,” said Tengri. “There are massive casualties. I’m on my way to Islamabad. So if this isn’t an emergency…” A muscle on his forehead twitched.
“Holy shit!” said Tania. “Is it safe to go there?”
Tengri ignored the question. “I was so close to finally getting them behind Pax Gaia… So close… I’m going to meet the Pakistani President this afternoon. Assuming he’s still in control. There are coup rumors. Not good. Not good.” He wiped sweat off his brow with a trembling hand. “Now, what is it, Tania?”
Tengri’s flying into the jaws of a nuclear war. Tania found herself at a loss for words. She almost apologized for calling. No! Pax Gaia is part of this same battle. We’re fighting for the same future.
“Mbani just called me. He invited me to Cape Town.”
Tengri suddenly seemed a little taller. “Mbani? That’s great news! I’ve been working on him. Hard. He’s an important regional mover.”
“He’s the first leader who’s seriously considering backing me in public,” said Tania. “Got any advice?”
“Know your limits going in,” said Tengri. “His endorsement is important. But that man serves only himself. He’d sell his children for a profit, if he knew who they were.”
Chapter 45
THE OVERNIGHT FLIGHT from London to Cape Town passed in a blur of sleep. Mbani’s private jet was nothing if not comfortable, a luxury hotel room with wings. Tania awoke to the landing announcement, and after a brief taxi to the private VIP terminal, she exited the plane into a sunny South African morning. Two huge men waited on the tarmac next to a private limousine, one white, one black, like opposing rooks on a chess set. Heavily armed rooks. The white man held a shotgun, one finger on the trigger. The black man had four holsters on his chest, each containing a handgun.
“Doctor Black. We’re your bodyguards. Come with us please.” At least these guys really are bodyguards. Though they may have watched too many action movies.
The men whisked Tania into an armored car which drove onto what had once been a freeway, but was now paved chaos. Vehicles of all sizes and description screamed down the street, weaving around enormous potholes and each other as their navigation computers jostled for position. Vendors lined the roadside, selling cheap food and cheaper imported goods from grocery carts. Behind them sprawled endless garbage-strewn slums, a mixture of decaying concrete and rusting shipping containers.
After 10 kilometers they reached the high-security zone surrounding Cape Town’s core. A line of vehicles inched towards the perimeter fence checkpoints, but the diplomatic car had special clearance. A barricade dropped, and they zipped through a side gate without slowing.
The shacks and rusty containers vanished, replaced by well-maintained houses with lush gardens full of exotic native plants. Gone were the street vendors. In their place, drive-through GBOPs and air-conditioned shopping malls. Even the people looked different: healthier, in collared shirts and neatly pressed shorts instead of “dead white people clothes.”
Tania’s hotel sat at the waterfront, overlooking the harbor. Her upper floor suite faced the downtown’s gleaming office towers and elegant historical buildings. Table Mountain framed the scene, a stunning wall of mist and rock with a cable car running up one side. This is spectacular. And the meeting isn’t for another four hours. After her first good sleep in days, Tania felt restless and unexercised.
“List local hikes,” she told her omni. “Two hours long.”
She skimmed the list of choices, threw on shorts, a baseball cap, and dark sunglasses, and stepped into the hallway.
The guards straightened to attention.
“Sorry guys, I’ve been on planes and in hotels for a week. I’m going for a walk up Lion’s Head. Come if you like. Or you can pretend I’m still in the room.”
The guards looked at each other. “We’ll come,” said the black man reluctantly.
With the guards in tow, Tania took a taxi to a parking lot above the city and joined a steady flow of tourists walking up the well-maintained summit trail. Despite the considerable weaponry they were carrying, the guards had little trouble keeping up; they flanked Tania as the trail cork-screwed its way towards the rocky overlook. The flowers were weirdly beautiful: rainbow anemone, organic fireworks, purple beads on spiky stems. South Africa’s unique floral kingdom, the fynbos, had survived climate change well so far. Desert plants handled extreme weather more easily than their rainforest counterparts. And the mountains allowed species to migrate to the cooler heights.
Tania climbed, savoring the healthy sweat. A panorama of rugged cliffs stretched south towards the Cape Peninsula. Table Mountain towered over the city, the wind conjuring billows of mist, which tumbled over the craggy ramparts, before fading like ghosts as they hit the warmer air beneath. It feels good to be outside. Smelling the flowers. Feeling the wind. Tasting the ocean. This is what I’m trying to save! This, and all those people crowded into the miserable shanty-towns, out there on the hazy flats.
***
Mbani’s inner sanctum was a large, wood-paneled office, richly appointed with animal skins and traditional African art. When Tania entered, she saw Mbani and two others: the Brazilian President, Lucas Olivera, and the Indonesian President, Sentosa Pertiwi, a bookish woman with black shoulder-length hair. They sat abreast at an exotic hardwood table, Mbani at their center.
“Welcome, Dr. Black,” said Mbani. “I wanted to keep this meeting small so that we can speak frankly. The three of us are influential in our regions. If we support you, others will follow.” His demeanor was completely cordial, as if the confrontation he’d had with Tania at the UN less than two months ago had never happened.
Tania took the single remaining seat, the three presidents facing her like a panel of judges. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity. We need visionary leaders right now. What would you like to know?”
“I’ll get straight to the point, Doctor Black,” said the Indonesian President. Her voice held a stern authority. “Juarez and Lui scare the hell out of us, and Tamed Earth scares the hell out of us. We want to see Pax Gaia succeed.”
“Your endorsement would go a long way towards making that happen,” said Tania. Try not to sound desperate.
They all nodded. “You understand that if we support you, the US and China will punish us,” said Mbani. “We would be taking a tremendous risk in going fi
rst. We feel that some compensation is reasonable.”
Tania noticed a cheetah hide on the wall. Such a beautiful animal. Who would want to skin one? “What sort of compensation are we talking about?”
“Concessions,” said Olivera. “For instance, your plan for regrowing the Amazon requires the relocation of many farmers. Given the size of Brazil’s forest, I think we could afford some reductions in the areas you want to reclaim.”
“I sympathize with your concerns,” said Tania. “But I just can’t do that.”
Olivera looked at Tania in surprise.
“I’m sorry, Mr. President. You want special treatment for the Amazon. Japan will want it for fisheries. The Canadians will want the Northwest passages kept clear of ice; the Panamanians will want the Northwest passages frozen shut again.” Tania looked around the room. “By the time we’ve given everyone special treatment, we’ll be back where we started. We have to put the welfare of our planet and its people first. That’s the lens through which we must view our decisions.”
An awkward silence hung in the air, thick as smoke.
“We’re not proposing concessions for everyone,” said Mbani. “They’re for us alone. That’s why there are only three of us. And it’s why this meeting is in private, without recording devices. You’ll only weaken Pax Gaia a tiny bit. Nobody even needs to know. You need us, Doctor Black. Without us, you’ve lost this battle.”
“You need me, too,” said Tania. “Would you feel comfortable negotiating a trade deal with China, Mr. Olivera, knowing that they could cut off your rain?”
“It’d be even harder to negotiate that deal after we teamed up with you and failed, Doctor Black.” Olivera looked at her, almost pleading. “What we are asking is not unreasonable. In a revolution, the first movers get the bullet as often as the spoils. Even with our help, Pax Gaia is a long shot. The United States and China retain physical control of the shield hardware. Their voters might force them to agree to Pax Gaia, but they can always renege if things get tough. We need to be compensated for the risk we are taking.”