by Ginger Booth
My jaw dropped, as I filmed Governor-General Sean Cullen making his statement for the 6 o’clock news slot. I’m not much of a camerawoman, but Carlos needed to focus on content, and we didn’t have time to bring in a professional camera crew. We’d only have about 15 minutes to edit this before broadcast.
Hudson invited Canada and KenTenn into New England? I scribbled on a notepad, and slid it toward Carlos. He ignored me, for the moment. Fair enough, this was the trickiest bit of Sean’s statement.
“Hudson normally handles energy engineering for New England as well as Hudson,” Sean explained. “But Hudson’s nuclear experts are spread too thin. Frankly our contingency plans did not encompass simultaneous threats to all the nuclear power plants on the eastern seaboard.
“At this time, we ask civilians with nuclear experience to volunteer at the website below to help shut down these reactors. Transportation will be provided, including from KenTenn and Greater Ohio, as well as anywhere in the coastal states. Naval personnel will receive requests through official channels, including Navy SEALs.
“I can’t stress enough that, at this time, the New England and Hudson reactors are not a threat. No evacuations have been ordered. The situation is more precarious in Virginia, North Carolina, and Florida. Those plants were hit by higher waves. I do not speak for those super-states. But some volunteers, especially naval forces, will be redirected south along the coast.”
Sean paused to gather steam, then looked straight into the camera. “These power plants were a major source of electricity. They will not be coming back online. At this hour, sea level has risen four feet. We believe this is permanent. And we don’t know yet where it will stop. But we need to keep these power plants offline. In fact, we need to shut down more nuclear plants. I’m afraid our current power rationing may be permanent.
“Thank you for your help in making these nuclear volunteers welcome in your communities. The work they are doing is crucial to the well-being of us all.
“That’s the main thing I needed to cover tonight. Please rest assured that the Hudson martial law government is working tirelessly to recover from this calamity. God bless, and good night.”
I busily set to shutting down the equipment and made sure the video arrived where it needed to go for lightning-fast editing. My man Will in Totoket was putting together commentary-free intro and closing sequences. I told him to make the opening segment at least a minute long. And sadly, we had missing and confirmed dead statistics to show at the end, except for Jersey. That should help keep things in perspective.
Carlos asked Sean, “Sir? Dee asked whether Link agreed to inserting forces from KenTenn and Canada.”
Not exactly what I’d said, but Carlos interpreted my concern correctly. Governor-General Ivan Link of New England wasn’t the sort to take kindly to his counterpart Sean getting pushy.
Sean scrubbed a hand through his close-cropped silver hair. “Ivan tells me Seabrook is under control, and to butt out. Tony tells me Seabrook is in crisis, half its crew dead, the top plant engineer crying for relief. I believe Tony.”
I froze, mouth open in horror. Carlos poked me to get back to work.
“I care more about Seabrook going into meltdown, than I care about Ivan throwing a hissy fit,” Sean concluded. “We’ll just have to abide the challenge.”
“I think I should call and warn him, sir,” Carlos suggested. “Or, maybe John could do it,” he added uncertainly.
Sean sighed. “We’re not going to warn Link, because that gives,” he checked the time on his phone, “about a half hour more for KenTenn and Canada to arrive on-site. Rescos in Vermont and New Hampshire are expecting our teams, and saying ‘thank God’ for them. They need this help, Carlos.”
“Don’t disagree, sir,” Carlos assured him. “But. Link going mental won’t help.”
“Millstone?” I asked querulously. The Millstone plant was near Pam Niedermeyer’s house in Connecticut.
“Millstone’s OK,” Carlos assured me. “Safely shutting down as per SOP. Takes a while. Governor Fallon took point on that. Oh, there’s an idea, sir. Maybe Fallon could talk to Link.”
Perhaps that’s why Carlos had taken such pains to preserve his rare state governor in Connecticut. Fallon made himself useful in negotiations and managing civilian emergency response. Most lead Rescos in Carlos’ position would have jettisoned the governor by now as a distraction in the chain of command. Or, they had a helpless governor in the first place, unable to function after the paychecks failed on the state bureaucracy. Carlos found Fallon a cool-headed capable executive, and kept his political channels option open.
Sean wobbled his head to indicate he’d think about it. “Do we need any re-takes?”
I raised three fingers – Will would have the first splices ready to show us in three minutes.
“Stand by, sir,” Carlos said.
We were watching the broadcast again with Cam and Ash and Gladys when my phone went off. ‘Gov-Gen Ivan Link’ advised my phone screen. “Living room, video pause,” I said, and ignored Ash Margolis’ dirty look.
“Dee Baker,” I answered my phone, with a professional poised smile. I expected a flunky to tell me to hold for General Link.
Instead, the ruler of New England himself was calling me direct. “Baker! I demand air time to make a statement, condemning Hudson’s unauthorized hostile actions in New Hampshire.”
I stabbed the speaker phone button. “General Link, you’re on speaker. I’m here reviewing the broadcast with the Hudson Resco Service. On your request… Ah, could you state your request again?”
“It’s not a request, dammit!” Link bellowed. “I demand that PR News broadcast a statement from me denouncing Hudson’s actions!”
I looked plaintively at Carlos. He pursed his lips, shook his head. “I don’t believe that’s a good idea, sir,” I replied to Link. “Has Governor Fallon spoken to you yet?” Sean had agreed that Connecticut’s outmoded Governor Fallon had as much chance as anyone to smooth Ivan’s feathers.
“Fallon has no fucking authority, Baker!” Link barked at me. “Neither does Cullen!”
“I see,” I said, my heart pounding. I was glad of Sean Cullen and the Rescos for emotional backup. Getting yelled at by a general is intimidating. “Sir, I understand that this is awkward. But, um, as I understand it, the staff at Seabrook is desperately calling on Hudson for help. Hudson just doesn’t have enough expertise to go around. I believe Governor-General Cullen decided he had no choice. We cannot let that nuclear plant go into meltdown. And that’s a real possibility, is what Colonel Nasser is telling us.”
I switched tacks. “But all that aside, sir. The main thing right now, is to reassure the public. The nuclear situation is serious, but under control. That’s the message PR News –”
“Because PR so-called News is a fucking puppet propaganda machine for Sean Cullen!” Link bellowed.
My chin slowly sunk at this. But I jerked it back up. “Your argument is not without merit, sir,” I allowed. “We do collaborate with the Hudson government to promote peace and order. And New England. I’m afraid we – I – think it’s in everyone’s best interests to keep any private disagreements between you and Governor Cullen, um, private.”
“To hell with you!”
“If you’d like to speak to Governor –” I stopped. Link had already disconnected.
“We knew he would be a problem, Dee,” Sean Cullen said gently. “Sorry it fell on you.”
I nodded my thanks and sent a quick text to warn Dave – no statements from Link tonight. Hopefully Dave just wouldn’t answer his phone. I sent an email to IndieNews, too, requesting that they consider a hold-for-thought and call me if Link went to them. He probably wouldn’t. PR News bridged the two young nations, but IndieNews was more firmly footed in Hudson.
Meanwhile Cam resumed replay of the broadcast, not too far delayed. I sat down on the couch arm beside his spot, still splayed on the couch, now with walking cast on one leg and short foot-p
rotector walking boot on the other. When the broadcast was done, Cam caught my hand and assured me, “You done good, Dee. Great briefing earlier.”
“You saw my briefing?” I thought it had gone to Carlos and gotten snuffed.
“That’s what this is,” Sean said, surprised. “We reviewed your recommendations, and decided to address this one point. Today.” He wobbled his head a bit. “Maybe more tomorrow. Maybe later. At the moment, we’d just look stupid on most of it.”
“Because we are stupid on most of it,” Cam agreed sadly.
“The cause of the tsunamis?” I prodded.
Cam shrugged. “So far as we know, the ice shelf just collapsed really, really fast.”
“That’s really, really unlikely,” I said, heart sinking. “A chunk of continent suddenly shifting sideways fast enough to set off a tsunami. I read the arguments. A few weeks, sure. But to set off that big a tsunami, it would have to be fast.”
“Yup,” Cam agreed. He sighed. “But, we are sure it was the West Antarctic Ice Sheet. That’s something.”
“It moving sideways into the ocean, under its own power, at that speed, would be really something,” I commented.
Cam didn’t respond.
“It was a nuclear bomb something,” Sean Cullen conceded. “I prefer we not mention that part, without knowing whose nuclear bomb. And why.” He sighed. “We might not get those answers. But we’re pursuing the question.”
I digested that a moment. It was indigestible. “And climate? Any idea of what this is going to do to our climate?”
“Nope,” Cam replied. “There’s a sort of parallel in the Younger Dryas. Maybe. I hope not.”
“What happened in the ‘Younger Dryas?’” I asked. I recalled having seen the term before, but not much else about it.
“There was warming,” Cam replied, “that melted the glaciers, that led to cooling… I don’t remember. Horses, camels, saber-toothed tigers and mammoths, all went extinct in North America. Also most human societies. Lot of sandstorms. You know how the advanced American civilizations were in Mexico, or farther south? Pretty primitive farther north?”
“We’re not going to discuss that on the news, either,” Sean directed.
My phone buzzed me with a head’s-up text from my lead Amenac content moderator. “Ivan Link’s taking his case direct to the people, on Amenac,” I told the group.
Sean sighed. “Flag it for moderation and take it down.” He rose from his perch on the opposite couch arm with a huff. “Time for me to talk to Link. Excuse me.”
I watched him head up the stairs for a moment. When he cleared earshot, I prompted Carlos, “Jersey? Greater Virginia and the Carolinas seeking relocation? Floribama?”
“Official line? No comment at this time,” Carlos replied.
“Unofficially?”
Carlos shrugged. “Walks like a duck, quacks like a duck? Probably a duck.” He scratched his ear, and concluded, “Dee, you recommended we make a statement. You suggested points of public concern. This was it. Took us half the day to pull it together. Happy?”
No. ‘Happy’ isn’t the word I would have chosen to describe my feelings about Sean’s nuclear announcement. I’d been hoping for ‘all is well,’ actually. But I allowed, “Yeah, that was a good step in the right direction. Thanks, Carlos.”
“Thank you.”
“And Millstone’s really OK?” I asked anxiously.
“Millstone’s shutting down fine. Takes a few days.” Carlos rose and left before I thought to ask about Toms River in Jersey. I let it go.
13
Interesting fact: The Younger Dryas was a blip in global warming about 12,000 years ago. Earth was emerging from its last ice age. North American glaciers melted and drained into the North Atlantic. The massive influx of fresh water shut down Atlantic circulation of warm water from the tropics. The climate suddenly shifted dryer and much colder, by 4–10 °F (2–6 °C). North American mammoths, camels, horses, giant sloths, and saber-toothed tigers went extinct, possibly in a continental-scale freezing Dust Bowl. The human population also declined. The Younger Dryas lasted about 1500 years, then ended abruptly with the temperature rising 13 °F (7 °C) over just a few years. This history yielded little insight into what would happen if the South Pole suddenly drained fresh water.
I huddled under my down comforter in bed, trying to make a dent in Mangal’s emails before going to sleep. We decided I needed to be in Connecticut tomorrow, but there was nothing to be gained taking the 10 p.m. train instead of 6 a.m. Either way, I couldn’t meet with people until after breakfast.
No doubt Mangal had clever email filters that made it a breeze to grind through this volume of correspondence. I took a different approach with my underlings. Once a week they were required to supply a one-page precis of metrics, accomplishments, problems and/or excuses, plus targets for the next week. I valued bulleted and numbered lists, punchy phrases over paragraphs. If they talked to me outside of that, it better be good. Mangal coddled his people and flattered their insecurities too much, in my opinion. We’d amiably squabbled over this tactical difference for years, ever since we were promoted to baby project managers together at UNC.
I missed Mangal. I missed his macros and email filters, too. DJ called around 7:30 p.m. to report mission accomplished, Mangal safe at home with his wife Shanti. I argued with myself back and forth, but decided not to disturb him tonight. I left it at a quick text, Thank God you’re home safe! See you tomorrow.
When my phone rang with Emmett’s chime, I dove for it so fast my computer nearly flipped onto the floor. “Emmett! Is it really you?”
“Hey, darlin’,” he agreed. “Miss me?”
I started crying. “Oh, Emmett! Where have you been? I was so scared for you!”
“Uh, same old places,” Emmett hedged. “Went off the reservation a bit.”
I snuffled, and asked, “What’s that mean? Off the reservation.”
He sighed. “Never mind. Hey, darlin’, I just wanted to call and say I’m OK. Sorry to worry you. Did Cam get you home safe? I bet transportation’s a mess on LI.”
I blinked at that. “Just how offline have you been, Emmett?” Too off-line to know that Cam and I had been caught in the tsunami? Surely not.
“Um,” he responded.
“Never mind that. Are you coming home?” I begged, stroking the phone.
“I need to call Pete and Sean next,” Emmett said. “We’ll see. I just wanted to call you first.”
“Thank you,” I crooned. “Love you.”
“Love you, too, darlin’,” he agreed. “Miss you.”
“When you come home,” I said. “Let’s get married. Right away. I was going to tell you that in the morning, the last night you were home. But then you were gone.”
No response.
“Emmett?” I shrilled.
“Uh-huh, still here,” Emmett grumbled. “Darlin’, that didn’t make any sense.”
I perceived that my suggestion hadn’t made him happy. In fact, he sounded peeved. “Um, I was trying to make you happy,” I said. “Because you looked so sad, because my stupid wedding dress isn’t working out.”
No response.
“Am I waiting for you to think through what you want to say?” I asked nervously.
“Uh-huh,” Emmett sighed. “Look, Dee. Nice wedding, no wedding, that’s fine. Finding some…what? Grab some soup kitchen preacher to say our vows? No, darlin’. Just – no. Could we not deal with this right now? I’m… Those calls with Pete and Sean. They might not go so well.”
Pete Hoffman was Emmett’s commanding officer, as well as mine. “Oh?” I asked.
“No,” Emmett confirmed. “Dee, thanks for the offer, on the, um, expedited wedding.” He made that sound like rotting fish. “That’s just not happening this week. Gotta go. Love you. Talk to you soon.”
I blew out a long breath and flipped onto my back. He’s safe. That’s the main thing. They were both safe, Emmett and Mangal. I felt like I could breathe
again. No, no I didn’t. I felt like crying, and rolled into a ball to sob for a while. I cried my way through in a few minutes and stopped to mop my eyes and nose, feeling wrung out.
Sean Cullen was yelling in our best guest bedroom, across the landing. It was too muffled for me to make out words. I hoped that wasn’t Emmett he was talking to. Eventually Sean’s upset died down, and I got a simple text from Emmett:
OMW 1 hour
Wow, that was fast. It wasn’t easy to get to Brooklyn from his bit of North Jersey, especially with all the water routes closed.
“Come in!” I called out, to a gentle knock on my door.
Sean peeked in, and said quietly, “Dee, Emmett is safe. I dispatched a chopper to bring him here. Should be less than an hour.”
“Thank you, Sean,” I said. “Um, he contacted me. Is everything alright?”
Sean pressed his lips flat. “Never mind that now.”
No, I concluded. “Sean? How’d it go with General Link?”
Sean sighed and scowled, much put-upon. “That man is unhinged. I want to know why.” After this minor venting, he summoned back his professionalism. “The nuclear team arrived at Seabrook. They’re staying. They believe meltdown can be averted. So all’s well.” He looked like he was about to add some caveat to that, and decided to drop it. Instead he withdrew, closing my door softly behind him.
“Emmett!” I practically flew down the stairs into his arms, as he came in the front door. “Thank God you’re safe!”
He held me tight, one arm crushing our bodies together, the other hand around my head pressing us cheek to cheek, and just breathed. Our hearts pounded against each other, until gradually our hearts and lungs slowed, relaxing into each other. He finally released me enough to draw back and kiss me.