"You've got a point."
"I know it. We need to co-opt them from the start. All religions preach care for God's creation and we should put Gaia at the head of the caretakers."
"That makes sense but what if they don't buy it? They often preach one thing and do another."
"At least we'll have claimed the moral high ground. Will you draft a public letter to the heads of the world's religions, and of course all of their followers, basically making the point? God has dominion, Gaians are the caretakers. Join us in the crusade to save the Earth from pollution."
At dinner they talked over various approaches and resolved to compile a list of religious leaders who had already expressed Gaian beliefs about the environment. By appealing to those leaders in their own words they might be able to enlist some allies.
"I wouldn't mind if Gaian principles were part of the sermons from the pulpit, would you?" asked Helene.
"Certainly not. The more the merrier. At least we'll get some support from the more rational believers."
Helene got busy communicating with Mai Ling, outlining the theme and asking for research on those leaders who might be counted on for support.
On their walk back to Helene's apartment they got caught up in a group of thirty-something revelers on their way to one of the twenty-four hour party floors. By the amount of loud talk and clumsy groping displayed by members of the group drunkenness was a definite factor. As the noise receded Helene remarked, "I don't know whether to be disgusted by such boorish behavior or happy that it's mostly confined to designated areas."
"Well, sex, drugs and loud music are important activities for courting couples and those who would like to be and having a safe place to conduct it all cuts down on accidents. On the whole I think it's a good thing. One can be happy about that and still dislike boorish behavior."
Helene took his hand. "You're never boorish," she said softly, "but it's okay if you want to grope me."
"Thanks. I must admit I like our urban life. There's always something to do, even if we're too busy right now to do anything else, and anything you want is a short walk or ride away. I like the bustle."
"It's a good thing you do since bustle is what we're both going to be doing for a while. Besides planning for the festival we have to get the new venue ready for Saturday's sermon."
Harrison nodded and suppressed the feeling that between Moms and Helene he was going to be kept much busier than he wanted to be.
"I may have to take early retirement if this pace keeps up."
Helene raised an eyebrow at him, "You don't think this is going to slow down, do you? I think it's only going to speed up."
"I'm sure you're right," he said sadly. "I'll be sorry to give up the academic life."
"But you'll be known as a founding father."
"I feel more like the bumbling brother."
Chapter Fifty-Three
The new venue for the Saturday gatherings was a cavernous space which still seemed to echo emptily despite the rows of chairs, hundreds of them set up by a volunteer crew under Helene's direction. When people began to file in their casual chatter resounded and bounced off the bare walls. When enough people had entered the sound of talk merged into a low rumbly roar that swelled and ebbed as though it was an ocean's surf.
With a few minutes to go the lights slowly dimmed and the wall gradually lit. Precisely at 10:30 the image of the pulpit at the ranch popped onto the screen and, accompanied by a muted version of the music to the new Gaia theme, Moms stepped into view.
She was clad in an all black robe shot through with threads of iridescence that gave her figure a constantly shimmering glow. She looked and sounded radiant and bursting with life and energy, a major contrast to the overworked woman Harrison last saw.
"Friends of Gaia, welcome." Moms voice rang out, full of strength and purpose.
"Greetings from our hearts to yours. I have been greatly buoyed by the outpouring of interest and affection we have experienced over the past several weeks. Many of the messages I've received have been from people new to the Gaian community who have asked for a recounting of the basic tenets of Gaia."
Moms paused and took a sip of water while behind her a huge image of the proto-Earth appeared covered in clouds and with volcanoes spewing ash and lava.
"For the old hands, I beg your indulgence while I tell this most ancient of stories. Gaia is the spirit of Life on Earth." She looked deep into the camera's eye as she said this, emphasizing "Life", then pausing, then, "on Earth. All life on earth is related," she said with emphasis. "We all evolved from that first appearance of DNA and all the evolution of life has been in the effort of living in the conditions presented by this planet. Life first changed the atmosphere and then covered the Earth. Life on Earth is the marriage of DNA and the circumstances found and created on this rocky planet. It is the unique-in-the-universe result of the co-evolution of life and its environs."
Behind her the image of the planet slowly changed from the maelstrom of vulcanism and acidic atmosphere to the green and blue beauty of the current Earth. "Gaia is the spirit of this unique individual, the result of the mating of Life and the Earth and as such as individual as the soul of any person. We humans, at this moment in the long, long history of the planet, exert the most influence on Gaia's spirit and attitude because of the weight of our presence. We weigh so heavily that we have tipped many balances and are now voyaging in uncharted waters. Life on Earth equals the changing web of life, evolving to keep up with the changes and changing with the results of evolution. Gaia is the mother of us all." She paused and the image of Earth in space slowly revolved behind her.
"We are part and parcel of Life on Earth and part and parcel of Gaia and to express our attitude toward our one home in the vastness of the universe we have developed the Gaia Manifesto:
LOVE GAIA
Mother of us all.
HEAL GAIA
For our children forever.
PROTECT GAIA
Live mindfully.
Behind her the manifesto appeared on the image of the Earth. Moms raised her arms in benediction and intoned, "Let us live in harmony with Gaia. Go in peace."
The lights slowly brightened in the room and a murmur arose from the audience as they exited. Snatches of the conversations reached Harrison and Helene's ears which they distilled to "Where can I get a copy of the Manifesto?"
Harrison was quiet and thoughtful at the end of the session while Helene was vibrant with plans and ideas. "We'll need to print that in some visually arresting form, and make it available on site. I just loved that presentation. I'd never really thought about the absolute origin of Life on Earth and that we're all related. When you think of it that way it's like life is this one organism that manifests in myriads of forms. It's mind boggling."
"Mmm," said Harrison.
"I mean, the fact that evolution includes the circumstances a creature responds to and that evolution on Earth includes Earth. I just love that concept."
"Mmm," said Harrison.
"Something wrong?"
"No. Not at all."
"Then why the silence?"
"I was struck by the concreteness given to Gaia by the expression of the Manifesto. How much more like a religion it became in that moment."
"Yes," said Helene brightly, "didn't it though."
"Yes it did," said Harrison moodily, thinking, "No turning back now."
In the aftermath of the sermon Moms asked for a virtual conference on Sunday. Harrison and Helene dutifully sat before their screen and conversed with Moms and a roomful of the cadre, Lucas, Maeve, Sam, Mai Ling and Cindy. The mood was upbeat, excited and a little harried. Moms spoke about the responses that were flowing in about the sermon, "Very positive," and the workload being engendered, "Very heavy," and the demands on her for public appearances and personal meetings, "Very daunting."
"If I am to be the face of Gaia," she said somberly, "as it appears that I am, I will have to give up many of my executive dut
ies."
In the pause that followed Harrison took a quick survey in his mind of possible candidates for Gaia's Chief Executive Officer and decided he didn't really want the job.
"As far as I can see we have only one person in the group who has the experience and abilities to take over that part of the job," Harrison started to clear his throat preparatory to making excuses, "but I don't know if she's willing to make the commitment."
At the use of the feminine pronoun Harrison swallowed his excuses and some of his pride, happy at least that he hadn't spoken up.
"Helene, would you be willing?" Moms looked straight at Helene through the screen.
Helene looked surprised, pleased and non-plussed all at the same time.
"I don't know," she said hesitantly. "I'd have to make arrangements. Would you expect me to move to the ranch?"
"Yes, I think that would be necessary."
Helene glanced at Harrison who was working to keep his face straight. He was uncharitably thinking that not only was he not first choice, the job was threatening to steal his lover away. Moms could see the problem even through the video screen. "I'm sure you could divide your time between here and there," she offered, "and Harry would of course always be welcome here. Think about it, will you? You're clearly the right person for the job."
"I will. And I'll discuss it with Harrison."
"Which reminds me, Harry," said Moms. "I received a request from the Anarchic Artists for a visit from someone to connect them to the network. Would you take that on? They're there in midtown."
"Sure, but I don't have the technical ability to do the job of connecting them."
From behind Moms came Lucas' voice, "Once they give you entry to their system you can get me on the communicator and I can step by step you through it."
"Okay then, whom do I contact?"
"I'll send you the information and what to ask for," said Lucas.
Harrison, glad for the change of subject which meant he wouldn't reveal his chagrin, agreed happily to the task. When the connection was broken Helene asked, "What do you think?"
In a burst of honesty he said, "I don't like the idea of you moving to the ranch. That being said, she's right. You're the best person for the job. Let me get used to the idea and then let's plan an ideal schedule so I can be with you enough to keep my sanity."
"We can do that," said Helene. "I do believe I want this job."
Chapter Fifty-Four
The robocar deposited them on the plaza between the Anarchic Artist's cube and the Grow Tower that serviced it. Calling it a cube totally misrepresented its appearance. Its popular name in the city and around the world was the Starr Building, named for its architect and its iconic appearance.
The skin covering the building seemed to flow over its surface like shallow water and scintillated in the sunlight. No edges suggested a square though many straight lines existed. During the daylight hours the impression was of a sparkling mass, glinting and gleaming with reflected light. At night the building glowed as though lit from just beneath the skin.
Helene stopped in admiration of the sight. "Incredible," she breathed. "Videos don't begin to do it justice."
"No they don't," replied Harrison. "And it never looks the same way twice."
They passed through a three part entryway in a line of people. The first chamber examined them for traces of explosives, the second verified their identities and the third issued a pass to their destination. A robocar picked them up already programmed with the name and location they would visit.
"I'm surprised at the level of security," Helene remarked. "I thought artists would be more relaxed."
"You'd think so," said Harrison professorially, "but you'd be a hundred years out of date."
Helene relaxed for what she knew would be a mini-lecture.
"When the internet first covered the world it ruined the traditional ways publishers and booksellers did business. That ruined the way writers and other artists made their livings. It took a generation or more before the artists found a way to regain control of their work and their livelihoods."
"How did they do that?"
"They revived the Artist's Guilds. With nothing to lose artists unionized themselves and established their own production and distribution facilities. It took a while because the market had an insatiable demand for new material but once the new material was under control of the Guilds they gained control of the marketplace. As they did so they opened apprenticeship schools and programs for young artists. Now the graduates of those schools run the Guilds. Artists can get support for their work, galleries to show and sell, legal structures that jealously guard their copyrights and fair pay for their art."
"Do a lot of artists live here?"
"No. This is Guild administration, workplaces artists can use for large or difficult projects like video or music making and the School which has over five thousand students."
"Wow."
"Yes, wow. But most of the artists live where artists always have lived, in the cheapest, most rundown neighborhoods, doing the artist's unintended work of preparing the ground for gentrification by giving their neighborhoods cachet."
The robocar came to a halt in front of a featureless door which slid open when they alighted to reveal a conventional looking office suite with a robot receptionist.
"Todd Hamlin, please," said Harrison referring to Lucas' notes.
The robot nodded and gave the robot equivalent of a smile and sent a signal which quickly resulted in another opened door and a man, presumably Todd, coming out to greet them.
"You're the Gaians, right?" Todd was, in appearance, a standard issue corporate type, business attire, ready smile, guarded expression.
"Yes we are," answered Harrison and introduced himself and Helene. They were led into a comfortable office and offered refreshments.
"Very, umm, organized," said Helene.
Todd grinned. "Surprises everyone it does. To find corporate organization at the heart of artistry."
"Yes, it is surprising."
"We're organized so that the artists get to create. All this," he waved his hand to include the building and all that it housed, "is to make damned sure they get to profit from their work. That part of the job requires corporate-type organization, if not greed, though we strive to get every penny that's coming to us."
"A far cry from the old days," said Harrison.
"Yes indeed," boasted Todd. "Did you know that artistic production of all kinds accounts for over twenty percent of GDP? That takes professional management."
Suitably impressed they turned to the object of their visit and Todd led them to the office of the Chief Technical Officer, a young woman in casual clothing who waved them to a seat while she finished a task on her screen. She dismissed Todd with a nod and when he left the room she muttered something that sound suspiciously like "empty headed suit." Helene traded a glance with Harrison but kept her face still.
"Hi, I'm Robin," said the young woman turning to them. She clearly had Asian roots judging from her eye folds, but spoke unaccented English with the merest hint of western speech patterns.
"You're the Gaians. We're the Artists. Let's get it on."
Harrison and Helene looked at her blankly.
"Let's get communication links set up," said Robin by way of explanation.
Harrison took out the sheet of notes from Lucas and handed it to Robin. "He said if you'll give me your password he can talk me through the process."
Robin took the notes from him with a look of scorn, "Right," she said, "and if you give me his contact number he can talk me through the process and you won't have to be burdened with any sensitive knowledge."
Harrison looked chastened at this rebuke but Helene looked pleased. Another point scored in the battle of the sexes. Robin noted the responses and favored Helene with a "between us sisters" smile. Her manipulations of the system under Lucas' direction involved a certain amount of arcane conversation but only a few keystrokes.
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br /> Afterward she turned to Harrison and asked, "Do you know why we're doing this?"
"Not really, no. I know that a request was sent to Moms but that's the extent of our information."
"When Moms gave the invocation at the convention it impressed a lot of us and we asked management to set up a linkage. Many of us want to work on Gaia projects. At first the shit heads turned down the request so we immediately polled the Guild members. Eighty per cent were for it. Eighty per cent! Nothing gets that much agreement among artists except an orgy. So management reversed course and here you are."
She was obviously pleased and proud of her fellows for having such good sense and Harrison proceeded to stroke her and them for it. Helene, ever practical, said "I'm interested in people doing art work for Gaia. Can you give me some names?"
"I can do much better than that," responded Robin, "I've got your contact info and I'll send out a general call to all our members."
A robocar picked them up and carried them to a conference room with a huge table surrounded by chairs and a buffet lunch laid on a sideboard. The room was half filled with others arriving all the time. They were led to two chairs in the center of the table and invited to serve themselves. The people who filled the room were an eclectic group, a mixture of races and ages, every possible expression of gender and a motley assortment of clothing. These were the most committed Gaians in the artist's organization and after lunch Harrison and Helene spent a couple of hours answering questions.
When it was over Robin took Helene by the arm. "Want to see the Glassworks on the way out?" she asked.
Helene enthusiastically said yes and Harrison, acknowledging a superior force, dutifully followed along. The Glassworks was world famous for its fantastic productions and occupied an entire floor of the cube. Furnaces roared, heavy globs of glass were spun and blown and otherwise manipulated to produce creations that weren't possible before some of the newer technical innovations.
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