GAIA

by Morton Chalfy

  “But why haven't I heard more about her?”

  “Hmm. Nobody to tell you but me,” he said, “and now I have.”

  Lucas could tell when he was being given an evasive answer so he dropped the question, resolving to get it answered at a later time.

  “What's with the altar and evening meeting and the white robe get up? Is Gaia a religion?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “It is to some people but not to others. There's no God involved so it's hard to call it a religion.”

  “No god? What's Gaia?”

  “The earth and all that's on it. The geography, the life forms, the climates. That's Gaia.”

  “Okay. But High Priestess?”

  “Well, that's the yes and no. The term was first used by Moms ironically but to those who feel religiously about things it became an official title.”

  “Weird,” said Lucas.

  “Not as weird as real religions,” answered Harrison. “Perfectly sensible, really. The earth is the environment in which we evolved. Whatever approach keeps it safe for human life and the rest of the natural world is a good one. If some people need to think of it as a religion and it helps them do their work, so be it.”

  Lucas let it go. In the scientific-technical world he inhabited irrational beliefs like religions were dismissed out of hand even by the scientists who were still perplexed by the “where did it all originate” question. The Gaians couldn't be put into the irrational beliefs pile since the earth and its creatures manifestly existed but he wasn't ready to admit them to the “scientifically established” area of knowledge.

  “You'll get it later,” said Harrison. “Now let's eat.”

  The dining room was filling with people, the same ones who had been at the evening meeting as far as Lucas could tell, and several of them were ferrying platters of food from the kitchen to the long dining room tables. Moms appeared in jeans and a voluminous sweat shirt and motioned for Lucas and Harrison to come and sit near her.

  The food was simple and hearty with many items Lucas had never seen before.

  “We grow all our own food,” said Moms proudly gesturing at the feast before them. There were roots, grains, legumes, fruits, yogurt and greens. Lucas, used to the prepared foods of the urban lifestyle, was bemused at the bounty and at his positive response to the aromas. He sat down smiling and took the offered plate.

  “Smells good,” he said.

  “Good,” said Moms, “now tell me what you've been doing for the past several years.”

  A silence fell over the table and Lucas turned to Harrison in consternation. Harrison said, “Lucas can't tell you anything about that because it's covered by the official secrets act he signed.”

  Moms nodded and the room began to murmur again. Lucas felt strange but also strangely comforted by the reception. The group at the table were treating him as one of their own to be respected and offered his privacy. Moms reacted serenely in the knowledge that she would eventually hear the answer to her question, privately and in detail. Meanwhile Lucas tucked into the food and felt at home.

  As people finished eating they carried their dishes and cutlery to the kitchen and left the room until only Harrison, Lucas, Sam and Moms were left.

  “Are you comfortable speaking now?” asked Moms.

  Lucas showed discomfort on his face and squirmed in his seat.

  “Not comfortable, I see,” said Moms. “Why not?”

  “Well, I get it that you're Gramps' sister and that you've undertaken to get me away and hide me but...”

  “Yes?”

  “The religious stuff worries me.”

  Moms smiled, “As well it might, but we're not a religion and Gaia is not a god.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Gaia is the Earth and all who live on it. And that includes we humans. We were evolved from the Earth's web of life but we no longer fit in our place. In fact we've wrecked our environment and negatively impacted every other living creature. We've changed the world in nasty ways and if things go on like this we will have ruined our ecological niche. Our focus on Gaia is part of our effort to save the world from ourselves and restore a positive balance to life on earth.”

  “That can take centuries.”

  “No doubt. And the institutions that have lasted the longest among humans are religions. Hence our adoption of the organization and structures they have used, though adapted to our beliefs.”

  Lucas nodded. “I can see that but I don't see how you'll be able to hide me.”

  A low rumble emanated from Sam which Lucas interpreted as disapproval somehow. Moms lifted a finger, which silenced the rumble, and turned to Harrison.

  “You're already hidden,” he said. “The car that brought us to Las Vegas has effectively been destroyed. At least its registration number now shows that it was junked and recycled. The van we rode here in doesn't show up on the monitors as what it is but as a sedan belonging to a robo-car company which is now sitting in a garage in Las Vegas. Later I'll show you the technical part of this operation but right now you've disappeared. We'll decide together whether you'll show up dead in the records.”

  Lucas' face showed his consternation at the phrase “show up dead” and the uncertainty he still felt.

  Sam spoke up, “Maybe after he sees the operation he'll feel more secure.”

  “Good idea,” said Moms. “First thing in the morning.”

  She smiled brightly at Lucas.

  `“We'll leave the debriefing for later. Relax and enjoy the evening and we'll see you at breakfast.”

  Lucas thought there could be an ominous undertone to “enjoy the evening” as though it would be the last enjoyable one he would have, but Harrison was relaxed and at ease so Lucas tried to let his tensions abate.

  “Maybe a drink?” he said.

  “Sure,” said Harrison. “In the den.”

  The den was a large room furnished in some crazed idea of a marriage between an old English club and a movie western set. Huge armchairs made of local woods were grouped around coffee tables made of slabs of pine on legs made of cut branches with the bark still on. Navajo blankets hung on the walls and covered the chairs. The atmosphere was clubby and amusing at the same time.

  Against one wall was a serve-yourself bar with all sorts of alcohol and mixers arranged on shelves, glasses and tumblers on racks and a wine cooling refrigerator with ice-maker attached.

  “All the comforts of home,” said Harrison waving at the set-up, “if home were the Ritz hotel.”

  He busied himself at the bar mixing an extra strong cocktail while Lucas searched for and found a bottle of beer. When they were seated and sipping he said, “Do I have to take this Gaia business seriously?”

  “Do you mean you disagree with the idea?”

  “I don't really know. I haven't given it much thought. I mean, global warming is such old news.”

  “How old are you again?” asked Harrison. “I forget.”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “Ummm.”

  Lucas felt himself turning red with the implied insult to his maturity as he perceived it. “Are you saying I'll understand when I'm older? Because I hate that.”

  “No, I'm saying that your education has failed you if you think global warming and climate change are old news. They're not. The two hundred years since the atmosphere reached the tipping point are only the beginning. Some of the worst results are still to come. The worship of Gaia is one of the most effective ways we have of mitigating the effects and, as it were, of riding out the storm. So yes, I think you should take it seriously. An alliance with the Gaians is your best hope of achieving your own aims.”

  Lucas hid his feelings by sipping on his beer and resolved to at least keep up the appearance of interest. His real emotions were focused on his own condition. He had run in blind protest and fear of enslavement by the system and now he just wanted to find some situation that made him feel secure.

  Harrison
seemed to read his mind when he said, “Look, for the time being you're safe. No one knows you're here and we have the means to help you. Try and relax and over the next few days we'll show you what we're doing and you can decide your next move for yourself.”

  Lucas noted Harrison's identification with the Gaians and didn't know whether that made him feel more or less secure. Anyway he felt no danger from the group and decided that since he had no choice he might as well go along with the program.

  Chapter Five

  Lucas woke to the sunlight streaming into his bedroom and a knock on the door, “Breakfast in ten minutes,” said a muffled voice.

  “Up and at 'em,” he thought wryly and for just a moment considered rolling over and skipping food for sleep but discarded the idea. “Gramps will just be here to see where I am,” he thought and got himself up.

  Ten minutes was not enough for his toilet but he hurried and was walking into the dining room only five minutes late. The same group was in the hall, filing into the kitchen and returning with steaming plates of breakfast foods. This time Lucas found himself checking the young women out more closely than he had the evening before. He was casting admiring glances at several but especially at one young beauty whose frizzed-out red hair, creamy complexion and striking green eyes really stood out from the crowd. He was startled by Harrison's voice at his shoulder saying, “Don't get too interested. She's your second cousin.”

  “Who?” said Lucas defensively.

  “The redhead you're devouring with your eyes. She's Moms' granddaughter, my grandniece and your second cousin.”

  “Oh. Too bad. She's striking.”

  “So she is. But there are several other beauties around you can look at.”

  “Thanks. And shall I check with you to see if they're related or suitable?”

  “Wouldn't be a bad idea. Several are family.”

  They retrieved their trays of food and returned to their places at the table. Moms was not in her chair but otherwise the scene was the same as the night before. While they ate Lucas looked over the other young men and women but his gaze kept going back to his flame-haired cousin and once found her looking at him. He smiled, she grinned and said something to her companion which drew a laugh and a look at Lucas.

  He felt his face redden and turned back to his meal. Sam had joined them and said to Lucas, “After breakfast I can show you our operation. See if I can't inspire you with some confidence.”

  “Okay.”

  Lucas was eager to see it. Before getting into bed he had searched the net for any reference to the ranch including checking satellite surveillance videos without finding anything. The videos showed nothing but pasture land where he was now sitting. He wanted to know how they were doing that. For a moment he thought he wanted to know so he could report back and then remembered there was no “back” as far as he was concerned. The bridges to “back” were burnt to the ground and the knowledge would be for himself alone. Still, he was eager to see it all.

  When taking his tray to be cleaned he passed his red-headed cousin who threw him a wink and said, “See you later,” on her way out the door. Lucas felt terribly conflicted. Her greeting was clearly flirtatious and he wanted to respond in kind but Harrison's admonition rang in his ears.

  “If we're cousins I shouldn't feel like this,” he said to himself but that, of course, did nothing to lessen the feelings.

  Sam led him down a long corridor at the rear of the house to an elevator which carried them down the equivalent, Lucas thought, of several floors. The doors opened to a small anteroom with a screen inset on one wall and a keyboard below it. Sam identified himself to the screen, apparently by face recognition Lucas thought, then typed until another screen appeared headed Visitor Identification.

  “Stand here,” Sam said, indicating a line drawn on the floor, “and look straight into the screen. When prompted say your name.”

  Lucas did as he was told and once the computer had digested his information, physiognomy, iris photo, ear structure, voiceprint and name, a door behind them slid noiselessly open.

  “This way,” said Sam, and led him into a large, dimly-lit room with banks of screens, a few people wandering among them and the sound of a low hum in the background.

  “This is what we call Cowboys and Farmers,” said Sam pointing at the screens.

  “This wall keeps watch over the land, the animals, the weather, the moisture content of the forage plants and any intruders.”

  Lucas looked at the screens. Sure enough there was the herd of yaks, a small group of bison, horses, llamas and one screen of just pasture land.

  “How do you get the images?” he asked.

  “Micro-drones,” said Sam. “They're about the size of large dragonflies and they're covered with sensors and a camera. They can fly for three hours on a charge so there's enough time to cover the territory and return to base. If they discover something out of the ordinary they ping the system and the operator can see what's going on. We have larger drones as well for other uses.”

  Lucas nodded in admiration of the technical abilities the screen revealed. The images were sharp and scalable, the information from the sensors was displayed in a readable manner and the room had an air of highly competent professionalism.

  “That's the Cowboy side,” said Sam leading him across the room, “and this is the Farmers' side.”

  The bank of screens he indicated were all focused on some part of the greenhouse. Some were pointed at individual crops, others displayed rows of numbers, others scanned the outer walls. Lucas was familiar with what he was looking at as it was a one level version of the grow towers in the city. Nevertheless it held his interest.

  “It's all run robotically, isn't it?,” he asked.

  “Yes. This is just to make sure it all runs correctly and to step in if anything goes wrong. After all, this is our entire food supply and we can't afford breakdowns or disease or any interruption in production.”

  “Isn't that too many eggs in one basket?”

  “It would be but we have a back up. We have another greenhouse in town that operates as a commercial enterprise. If anything breaks down here we just take what we need from there. We have excess capacity in town to provide some food security. Plus we have a lot of food in storage.”

  Lucas felt himself being impressed. The attention to detail and the obvious high level of execution were marks of an organization staffed by people who were more than competent. Besides being impressed he could feel a pull to be part of this community.

  “Now the good part,” said Sam and led him through a door into another ante-chamber and another identification screen. When the ID computer was satisfied another door slid open and another elevator took them down several more levels.

  “How deep are we?”, asked Lucas and was surprised when Sam said, “two hundred.”

  “Feet?”

  “Meters.” Lucas was astonished.

  “You're kidding.”

  “No, I'm not. When we dug the first shaft we ran into an old mine which made the second shaft and this level easier to construct. The lower levels as well.”

  “Lower?” Lucas' voice cracked with surprise.

  “Our lowest level is over a mile down. Safe from a nuclear blast and where we'd all move to in case of a cataclysm like nuclear war.”

  Sam delivered the statement in a flat, unemotional voice which made its impact on Lucas that much stronger. The organization he was running from, the government's spy agency, worried about nuclear war or nuclear attack, but civilians usually didn't. The fact that this group not only thought about it but had prepared a realistic haven made Lucas take them more seriously.

  There were other groups that worried about it but they were classified in Lucas' world as paranoid worriers or apocalypse wishers. The first group posed little problem except when they demonstrated against proliferation. The second group were under constant surveillance as they contained many people who not only wished for Armageddon but, given
the chance, would precipitate it if they could. That was the reason anyone with access to the nuclear arsenal was exhaustively screened and vetted and still occasionally one got through and had to be retired when their views became known.

  This group was different. Neither paranoids nor apocalyptics, these people seemed like realists.

  “I'll have to put them on a separate surveillance list,” he thought and then realized he wasn't at that job any longer. “Or join them.”

  Sam had led them into another room filled with screens and people hunched over consoles and Lucas recognized some of the information scrolling by. With a growing sense of amazement he saw screens that he had studied at his old job and realized with a start that his Top Secret system had been hacked and was being monitored in this mountain hideaway. Other screens showed similar information but in Chinese, Russian, French, Spanish and other languages. He looked at Sam with new interest to see Sam watching his face.

  “I see you get it,” said the big man.

  “Well, I see what you're doing. I can't say I get it, totally.”

  “You will. I just wanted you to realize that we're not just playing around.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Good. Let's go back and you can have a talk with Moms.”

  The return trip to the surface was made wordlessly while Lucas tried hard to fit what he had seen into some coherent structure of the facts as he knew them though to no avail. By the time he was ushered into Moms' office, where she and Harrison were sipping tea and chatting, he had more questions than ever.

  Chapter Six

  Moms was relaxed and smiling when they came in, laughing at a remark of Harrison's and then grinning at Lucas.

  “How did you like the tour?” she asked.

  “Very impressive.”

  Lucas looked from her to Harrison to Sam and back to Moms. “Anyone care to give me a briefing on what's really going on here?”

  There was general laughter and Harrison said, “I'll give you chapter and verse later but there's too much for this little chat.”

  “How about a couple of hints or at least answers to a couple of questions?”