GAIA

by Morton Chalfy

  After a long moment the old man's mouth, which had been hidden by his mustache, opened and he said, “What do you want?”

  Mystified, Lucas answered, “Just to sit here and think.”

  “About what?”

  Lucas stifled his desire to tell him about his search and instead said, “Nothing, really. The spring, the stream, where it comes from, where it goes. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I'm the keeper of the streams and waters on this mountain.”

  Lucas thought he was dealing with a mad hermit of sorts and didn't want to appear to be trespassing. “May I sit down?" he asked.

  The man waved, signifying it was okay, but continued to stare as though trying to read his intentions.

  “Where do you live?” asked Lucas and was frightened and startled when, in two swift and agile strides, unexpected from one who looked so old, he was standing above him grasping his staff with both hands.

  “Why do you ask?”

  At close range Lucas could see that what he had thought were signs of aging were really roughness brought on by living outdoors. The sinews of the man's arms and legs were powerful and the crossing of the stream had been strong, purposeful and balanced.

  “I'm just wondering. I don't really care. I don't know what's going on with you and you're a little frightening.”

  The man rewarded him with a sly grin. “Good.”

  He sat facing Lucas with his back against a tree trunk and laid his staff on the ground. “People call me Aquarius. I keep watch over the waters of this mountain so that they will remain pure and flow freely.”

  “How do you do that?” asked Lucas, applying the theory of keep them talking to his situation.

  “By making sure that any transgression by the culprit is the last,” said Aquarius sternly.

  Lucas began to re-think his “keep them talking” strategy. Aquarius laughed out loud.

  “Nobody wants to hear my lectures a second time,” he said. “Especially not if Old Oakie here,” he lifted his staff, “gets a few words in.”

  Lucas nodded. “I can see that.”

  “Are you part of Moms' group?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then heed my words. Treat the waters as though they're your life's blood. Because they are.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What do they call you?”

  “Lucas.”

  Aquarius sprang to his feet. “Don't forget what I've told you,” he said and in just several steps he was across the stream and lost in the trees and bushes. Lucas looked after him for several minutes trying to recover his composure. “Strange guy,” he thought. “I'll have to ask Maeve about him.”

  He felt that he no longer wanted to sit and think as he now kept waiting for someone or something else to appear from the woods. “But I did get a refreshing break,” he thought, and returned to the ranch house.

  Maeve was standing outside his research room, obviously waiting for him and equally obviously a little anxious.

  “Hi,” she said. “Where have you been?”

  Her manner, usually so cheery and open, was making him nervous and suspicious.

  “Just down by the stream, to clear my mind and get some air.”

  “And did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Clear your mind?”

  He chuckled, which seemed to make her nervous, and said, “No. I'm more confused than ever. Do you know someone who calls himself Aquarius?”

  Now she chuckled and her face cleared. “Yes. We all know him. Our local character. Well, one of them.”

  “Who is he?”

  “He's the Keeper of the Waters. Didn't he tell you that?”

  “Yes he did, but who is he?”

  “He's actually the head of our local Water Board and represents us at the State Water Board meetings.”

  “Looking like that?”

  “Yes. And he's quite effective, too. When the suits dismiss him they find themselves blind sided by his knowledge and understanding. He has a PhD in hydrology and has single-handedly gotten a lot of really stupid development killed by showing the harm it would cause. He lives up the mountain and has taken on the task that the beavers used to do before they were all hunted out.”

  “You mean build dams?”

  “Yes. And clear fallen trees and generally work to keep water on the mountain and in the aquifer.”

  “Interesting guy.”

  “Oh yeah. Very educated. Don't ever argue with him or he'll drown you in facts. Nicely though. A real gentleman.”

  They were leaning against the wall outside his work room. “I better get back to it,” he said.

  “Oh. Would you like some company now?”

  “No, thanks. I need to concentrate. But I'll come looking for you when I'm done, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said and walked slowly away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Harrison woke from his CalmDown induced nap thinking about how he had arrived in his current position, and indeed, what his current position actually was. His historian's mind kept stepping him back to the beginning of the present era. This was the stuff of his classroom lectures, his PhD thesis, and was familiar territory.

  With the onset of global climate change brought on by global warming caused by excess CO2 in the atmosphere the world's systems went downhill fast. The seas acidified causing wholesale extinctions, especially of animals that relied on shells for survival, and drought took over previously productive farmlands. Water, fresh water, became increasingly scarce and therefore valuable. By 2050 water conservation was a mandatory and the development of Rapid Recycling boomed. From showers to car washes closed circuit water use took hold. The same 3 or 4 gallons of water, recycled during its use, served as a shower, requiring only a cup or less replenishment.

  Larger uses were proportionally affected. Wastewater became an obsolete term. Agriculture especially was revolutionized. The cost of water spurred the development of the Grow Houses which used one tenth the water of outdoor growers and produced food all year 'round. The steepening graph lines of traditional agriculture's costs, now that water was added to chemical inputs and labor, crossed the Grow Houses' falling costs around the middle of the 21st century and accentuated the movement toward massive urban concentrations of populations.

  Among other effects the “re-wilding” movement gained political force. With so much of the populations of the world concentrated in cities there was little appetite or political support for maintaining rural and wilderness areas. Re-wilding became seen as the most cost effective way to deal with them, especially as there were ample numbers of volunteers willing to live in re-wilded areas without the benefit of local services.

  As agricultural lands reverted to prairie or swamp, as native animals returned to graze or fish or wallow, as predators returned to take their portion, both governments and citizens found it was all to their advantage. Native tribes reconstituted themselves across the world and by the time Harrison was born in 2159 the divisions were thoroughly accepted.

  Most human life was conducted in the large urban areas where ninety percent of the species resided. The rest was scattered thinly over the face of the Earth. Harrison had written a paper pointing out that all urban life was more or less the same and therefore subject to major disruption by one catastrophe – a disease, say. The ten percent of humanity who lived in the world's wild lands had a variety of life styles and were, in aggregate, less susceptible to disruption. He concluded that the independent lifestyles should be encouraged, or at least not discouraged, by the urban powers so that any given calamity would not spell the end of the human race.

  Now, with the development of the chip and the movement to make chipping universal, he saw the danger of monoculture coming ever closer. Despite the complexity of modern human life, despite the leavening effects of truly intelligent computers, the species was moving toward homogeneity with evolutionarily blinding speed. It might require centuries but the factors moving it along were
already operating and growing stronger. Diversity was humanity's key to long term survival and humanity seemed hell bent on reducing it and chipping was a primary tool.

  He rolled out of bed and went to his desk. What he needed, he thought, was a conversation with Moms to help decide whether to stay on as a sort of mole in the city or to disappear and work from the ranch, but incognito. He decided to use Naomi's asking after Lucas as a good enough reason to re-visit the ranch. “If they're asking,” he thought, “I'll go looking.”

  Satisfied that he had found a way forward he set about making travel arrangements. He would ask Naomi to cover his lectures for a week and spend the time with Moms.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lucas was not happy with the findings of his research. While he couldn't say exactly who had sent the message, or for that matter who had received it, he had narrowed down the possibilities to an uncomfortable two or three machines. Unfortunately for his state of mind the only people with access to the machines were Moms, Maeve, Sam and no one else as far as he knew. He had spent a fruitless hour trying to find at least one other but to no avail.

  He sat slumped before the screen in a funk. Was the ranch an elaborate front meant to gather in people the state considered dangerous and thus neutralize them? Was the recipient of the message an agent within the state working for the ranch? Was he, Lucas, safe or had he entered the lion's den and was being toyed with before being devoured? He didn't know and it was agitating and depressing him.

  He finally picked up his empty cup and went in search of light and fresh coffee. In the dining room he saw Maeve deep in conversation with a young man he didn't recognize and felt a pang of jealousy and a simultaneous wave of depression. The worst part of his discoveries was his feeling that Maeve was lost to him. It almost made him want to kill himself. Paradise lost was worse than Paradise never glimpsed.

  With a full cup he headed for the outdoors. He didn't want to watch her with another man, however innocent it might be, and he couldn't think clearly in the same room. He walked around to the rear of the ranch house where Maeve had taken him and found a seat on the sod covering the roof where he could see all the approaches to his perch. He kept envisioning the light gleaming in Maeve's curls whenever she leaned forward to say something to her companion.

  “What difference does that make?” he thought. “I have to learn not to be jealous. I'm sure she wouldn't like it if I were.” He realized that he was refusing to think of her as a traitor and that frightened him. “If I can't be cold blooded about this I'm just going to give myself up to my unknown enemies without a fight. Not good.”

  He lay back on the roof and covered his eyes against the sun and tried to regain his analyst's composure. He repeated his Analyst's Mantra about dispassionate collecting of facts silently to himself and concentrated on experiencing the sunlight and the breezes and the aromas around him. He fell asleep.

  “So there you are!”

  Maeve's voice startled him awake.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you were napping,” she said. “I was just so relieved to find you.”

  He sat up groggily and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. “Relieved? Why relieved?” he asked.

  Maeve took a moment to calm herself he thought, and he wondered why.

  “Well, when I went to your workroom and didn't find you and you weren't in the dining hall or in the library or in your room I got worried.”

  “Why worried?”

  “I don't know. I wanted to find you and couldn't.”

  Lucas was torn. On one hand he wanted her to want to find him for purely personal reasons, on the other he was suspicious of her motives.

  “What's wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don't say that. I can see you're troubled so don't lie to me.”

  “I don't think I can explain it to you.”

  “Why not?”

  When he hesitated she said, “Is it about us?”

  He was grateful for the question. Whether she meant it honestly or not it gave him a reasonable explanation to offer.

  “Yes,” he answered reluctantly.

  “But why? I thought we were doing so well.”

  “Well, I came looking for you earlier and you were in the dining room with some guy and your conversation was so lively and animated I... I just became jealous and paranoid.”

  Lucas surprised himself by the emotional honesty of the statement and was glad of it as it made his words ring true.

  “But that was just Jerry. He works with me on several projects. He's a colleague.” She looked at him tenderly, “Not a rival.”

  Maeve put her hand on his and Lucas found himself smiling and blushing.

  “I told myself I had to learn not to be jealous,” he said. “I didn't think you would like it.”

  “I don't know. I don't mind it as an expression of love. I wouldn't like it as a harness.”

  “No, no. I respect your individuality,” he stammered. “I just couldn't help but feel the pang.”

  “You should have come over to the table.”

  “I guess I could have,” he said and was relieved when she nodded.

  “It's almost time for supper. Shall we go in?”

  She offered him her hand to help him up and then held it as they walked back. Lucas began to feel that whatever side she was on was going to be his side and chided himself for being so weak as to let romance rule his actions in the midst of a dangerous situation. He resolved to think more clearly as soon as he was out of her presence. In the meantime he let himself enjoy being her swain and having her on his arm in public.

  What a fool I am, he thought, and beamed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Harrison dozed fitfully on the ride to Las Vegas and was picked up by the same driver as before. With a nod he climbed into the vehicle and was quickly sped out of town. Sam was waiting and greeted him with a worried, “What's wrong?”

  Harrison's gesture indicated he would soon explain as he loaded his bag into the vehicle.

  “Am I covered in Las Vegas?,” he asked.

  “Yes. You're checked into your hotel and you'll make several inquiries by phone over the next few days. You're as covered as it gets. Now what's up?”

  Harrison related the two incidents of “How's Lucas?” to Sam and the uneasy feelings they had produced. “Do you think I over-reacted?” he asked.

  “Hard to say. I think you're right to have your suspicions aroused. I would. As far as reaction...it's too early to say. Are you doing what they want you to? Or not? This will take some thought.”

  The drive to the ranch required lots of concentration and effectively cut down on talk except for grunts from Sam at the occasional tricky passage over rocks and through ravines. When they entered the compound Sam drove to a spot under a solar powered array.

  “We're invisible here. No one can see my passenger and we can enter the underground complex through this door,” he said indicating a door that was set into the side of the hill.

  Grateful for the secrecy Harrison unloaded his bag and followed Sam into the hillside. The other side of the door was a corridor with a row of lights that lit with their passage and dimmed behind them. The hallway ended in an anteroom with a Navajo rug on the floor and an array of hand thrown pottery on display.

  Sam opened a door at the end of the room and ushered Harrison through it.

  “Is this all new?” asked Harrison. “I haven't been here before.”

  “Pretty new. We only finished it last year. The corridor tunnel had been excavated years ago to serve as an air shaft for the mine beneath us. When we upped the security level we finished it off and fitted the door.”

  The room they entered was a break room with chairs and tables and a sofa and a place to store and prepare snacks. They went through it into a work space filled with screens and consoles but with all the chairs empty and a feeling of dis-use in the air.

  “This is our back-up command center, just in case,”
explained Sam.

  “In case of what?”

  “Attack. Earthquake. Whatever.”

  Harrison let it go. At times he thought the level of paranoia around the ranch was excessive and at other times felt there were things he wasn't privy to that justified every defense. They reached the elevators and rose in one to arrive near Moms' door.

  “Go on in,” said Sam. “I'll let her know you're here.”

  Harrison's idle looks out of doors at the straggling group of yaks that lived at the ranch set off a memory of his visit to an Indian encampment on the re-wilded Great Plains. This was a reconstituted band of Arapahoe who had assumed the lifestyle of their ancestors with a few updates. They had built the bison herds through protections from other hunters and had begun an economy based on the bison.

  First and foremost they built a tourist business around the buffalo hunt. The hunt was conducted by a group of young men on fast quarter horses who used electro-magnetic bursts which stunned, felled, but did not harm the animals. The tourists watched from tour buses perched on mounds which afforded a panoramic view of the action.

  Typically the herd would graze all around the buses and then the young men would ride among them setting the herd moving and then would fire away. The proximity of the shaggy beasts, the whoops of the young men, the clouds of dust raised by the horses' hooves and the satisfying thud of the huge animals hitting the ground gave the tourists a feeling of having been witness to a piece of the old, bloody life.

  The buses were gone when, ten minutes later, the animals recovered their senses and struggled to their feet. The tourists were taken to a modern restaurant tent which featured buffalo meat. No one made a point of the humane killing that produced the meat in an abattoir on the premises and the impression that they were eating the fruits of the hunt was encouraged.

  Over time the mixture of tourism, including the restaurant and gift shop attached to it, and the wholesale commerce in meat and hides, had grown to support the entire tribe. Their lives had become a sustainable mix of the primitive and the modern. Primitive appreciation of life and death and humanity's place as part of the biosphere was coupled with engagement with modern medicine, education and communications. The tribe had been used as a good example of self governance in the wild lands. All sorts of self-constituted “tribes” arose, some based on a back to nature ethos, some on religious beliefs and some on principles of anarchic resistance to any central authority.