The screen cut to a law office. A slight man with graying red hair and a tweed jacket smiled from behind a large desk. “I am Rex Longworthy, Director of the Environmental Alliance. Decades ago, a prophet of the new age, James Lovelock, in the brilliant book, The Ages of Gaia, proposed that the earth behaves as a large integrated, living entity. He called it Gaia, after the mythical earth goddess. In a later work, Dr. Lovelock predicted that Gaia will respond to the insults inflicted on her by the misuse of human technology. He called it Gaia’s Revenge. My question to you is: what disaster will be next?”
The screen went dark. Several people shifted uncomfortably in their seats as the lights came on in the small theater. Rex Longworthy, dressed just as he had appeared on screen, stood before the group of men and women.
“There is more to this piece, of course, and you will see the rest of it in a few minutes, but we just wanted you get the theme, in order to establish a context for Mr. Fowler’s opening remarks. Every vignette you are about to see illustrates the same underlying dysfunction. Technology is out of control. The world is out of balance. We are at crisis.
“Which brings us to the purpose of this gathering. Most of the Americans surveyed last month were ready to support ‘strong international action restricting the use of dangerous technologies.’ Gentlemen and ladies, we’ve reached what is called a tipping point. A clear majority of Americans are finally ready to accept drastic solutions. As I speak, a solution is at hand. A treaty has been submitted to the president. It is called the Earth Restoration Treaty. The name says it all. The treaty will establish a new international regulation regime for technology. Even now, it has been signed by fifteen countries. And we have more news. Knight Fowler wanted you here—and most of you are already his friends—to get this heads-up firsthand and early, so that you can protect yourselves and your industries. Mr. Fowler?”
For a second, Ed Gosli thought of his estranged son. As difficult as the boy was, Ed Gosli still loved him. He’d be right in his element here, Ed thought. He resolved to call Seattle as soon as this was over.
Knight Fowler was a slim man in a gray suit with white hair and intense blue eyes. At one time or another he had socialized with everyone in the room. He stood and looked around. Twenty five CEO’s sat facing him, arrayed in a semi-circle.
“Thanks so much for coming,” he smiled, displaying blazingly perfect teeth. “We’ll move to the conference center right after this multimedia presentation, and we can talk in more depth about our common problems there.”
Gosli raised his hand. “Knight?”
“Ed, let’s hold our questions until then. Each of you is a key player in one of the targeted industries: energy, manufacturing, transportation, medicine and food production. Yes, I said targeted. The American people are deeply frightened of technology.
“The President has told me personally that he will fully support the Earth Restoration Treaty next week and call for immediate ratification by the Senate. When that happens, we need to be ready for the next Stage. The ratification process in the Senate will take longer because of entrenched special interests. But we have it on excellent authority that the Senate will eventually approve. One more disaster of any magnitude that threatens the economy or environment on this side of the Atlantic and we will have a new international political regime. That is what Rex Longworthy meant by the tipping point.
“When that does take place, the Treaty will be promptly ratified and a Technology Licensing Commission will be in place, with real authority. That is when everything will change for you and for me. Let me be blunt. There are going to be two choices: Ride this wave and control it or…be drowned by it. I prefer the former.”
Fowler looked over his captive audience. Most of the CEOs had come alone, and all looked worried. “This is what you can expect. In a methodical series of regulations, increasingly severe, all of your industries will be thinned out, and others not represented here may be shut down entirely. All new and many old technologies will be restricted. Some will be outlawed altogether. Obviously some people will lose money.”
Ed squirmed in his seat. He smelled a set-up.
“But others will make money…a great deal of money. So if you stay on board with us, we will see that you are protected. You will not be poor. Consider that fewer industries means less competition. You will be invited to join a new partnership. You can expect it to be a very profitable one. Now, let’s watch the rest of this presentation.”
The lights fell, accompanied by an excited murmur of voices.
A camera panned a huge wall of ice standing against a roiling ocean, the words COMPUTER SIMULATION appearing at the bottom of the screen.
A voice-over began, “This is the Western Antarctic Ice Shelf. Balanced on a smaller land mass, this country-sized slab of ice is at risk. Hydraulic and friction forces that have kept it stable since the last inter-glacial period are unstable. This delicate balance is changing because of ocean warming in the Southern Hemisphere. This single block of ice contains enough water to flood every coastal area on the planet.”
The presentation ended, and Ed strode over to Knight Fowler.
“So what do you think, Ed?” Fowler asked.
“Not bad for a PR campaign, Knight. But I know the game all too well. The world has been going to hell in a hand-basket for the last three thousand years. It’s the classic bait and switch. Preach apocalypse and ask us to bend over. Hype the problem and grab the power. Sorry buddy, but I want no part of this.”
Ed was a sturdy man about a head shorter than the patrician Fowler. “Ed, let’s step outside,” Fowler said, beckoning for his associate, an attractive German woman, to join them. “This is our consultant, Ed, Louise Berker.” Ed nodded politely, and she followed them into the elevator. As the door closed, the other CEO’s were gathering at the opposite side of the small auditorium, following Rex Longworthy into the conference room.
In the elevator, Fowler forced a smile. “We enjoyed meeting your son at a recent dinner in LA. A very nice young man.”
“Thank you,” Ed growled. The three rode down in silence.
The elevator door opened, and Fowler and Berker followed Gosli to an outside hallway. Fowler put a hand on Ed’s arm and asked, “Now, exactly what do you mean?”
Gosli brushed Fowler’s hand away, Knight exchanged eye contact with the German woman. There’s always one, the look said. Berker nodded imperceptibly. Ed was too furious to catch the exchange.
“I want no part of this cabal of yours, Knight. In fact, you might be concerned that someone decides to go public.”
“That would be a mistake, Ed.” They were standing in front of the glass exit door in front of the building.
“As you know, Knight, I don’t tattle. But I am strongly leaning against this Treaty. And when I make up my mind, I will be heard.”
Fowler flinched. “Don’t you at least want to meet with Rex to discuss—”
“Discuss what? An illegal compact to restrain trade, fix prices and screw the ordinary Joe and Jill? I thought you had something new to offer. Thank you for the invitation, Knight, but I have nothing to contribute here. I’m a live and let live kind of guy. But mess with me and you’ll regret it, Knight. I mean it. Play nice or I will blow the lid off your whole amateurish scheme.”
Fowler smiled thinly. “Thanks for the head’s-up, old friend. I’m sure it will never come to that. Louise, please escort Ed to his transportation.” Knight Fowler extended his hand. “Later, Ed.” Gosli shook it perfunctorily, noting that Knight’s hand was clammy and cold.
The German woman smiled winningly. “I’m Louise Berker of Opinion Research Associates in Seattle. We’re sorry you couldn’t stay for everything, Mr. Gosli. I imagine your driver didn’t expect you to leave so early. Our limousine can drop you wherever you like.”
Ed Gosli looked at his watch. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”
Ed stepped outside the hotel and was immediately engulfed in cloying, damp heat. Berker followed hi
m, talking into a headset. Moments later, a silver Mercedes limousine slid into the blue zone outside the Fowler Building and the rear passenger door popped open. The quicker I get back to my hotel, the better, Gosli thought. He slid into the rear seat, grateful for the rush of chilled air. As the door closed, Ed looked for the driver. The seat was completely empty.
“Where’s the driver?” Gosli just could see Berker smiling through the dark glass. She was saying something. He opened the window a crack.
“Your ride is fully automated, Mr. Gosli.” Just then the car pulled sharply away, its acceleration pulling Ed against the upholstery. As the window closed, Ed could hear Berker’s retreating voice over the hiss of the tires.
“Goodbye…”
Ed Gosli looked out through the darkened window at the traffic. Where the hell am I going?
It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t have a good feeling about this.
CEO KILLED IN TRUCK COLLISION
BOSTON: Police are still investigating the head-on collision that took the life of Edward F. Gosli, the CEO of General Advanced Technologies, and an unidentified truck driver, yesterday at 2:34 P.M. No witnesses were present at the scene in which Mr. Gosli’s vehicle, a leased limousine, was totally destroyed. Edward Francis Gosli is survived by his wife, EDITH, and son, ED GOSLI, JR.
——
The next morning Fowler met with Louise Berker. Knight was a man bent on using his vast financial resources to remake the world to his specifications. He stared at the younger German woman who had been sent to him by his European environmentalist contacts. Berker was a specialist who would operate under cover of a legitimate consulting business sited next to Rex Longworthy’s law offices in Seattle.
Fowler underestimated this young woman, who had a similarly audacious agenda, but no scruples whatsoever. Each of them, in this cause-driven relationship, was using the other, and each felt secure in holding the ultimate superiority of position. But Berker’s was the stronger position—she was far more dangerous than Fowler realized. Ultimately the G-A-N, the international organization, held all the cards.
“Louise Berker, I take my hat off to you. You are just as brilliant and dedicated as advertised. And your instincts are excellent, almost as good as mine. How did you pull it off?”
“Surely you don’t want to know.”
“I suppose not.”
“Mr. Fowler, I am here because the European movement is much further along than that of the American.”
“That’s true. You already have a Technology Retirement Commission up and running in Brussels.”
“Clever movies won’t be enough to make this happen in the US, Mr. Fowler.”
He smiled condescendingly. “We understand that, Ms. Berker. That’s why I’m paying so well for your services. For the next phase, we will deal with the holdouts. We need to convert some senators. But failing that…” Fowler paused. “You are our backup plan.”
Chapter 8
Two months later
It was early fall in Santa Fe, New Mexico when Fred Loud Owl slipped into the back of the conference room as the movie, Earth at Risk was being shown. When the lights came on, a small, earnest man in tweed was standing to the side of the screen. He moved to the podium and introduced himself as Rex Longworthy. As he began his talk, Fred watched from the back of the conference room.
Fred Loud Owl, a weathered Navajo shaman, stood out in this gathering of rich white people like a coyote in a flock of turkeys. He was sprawled in an armchair, an ironic figure in mended jeans, faded black tee and a woven vest, surveying a sea of well-meaning, manicured matrons, tanned young women in expensive denims, and beautiful men with carefully trimmed facial hair.
Longworthy was talking with the bewildering earnestness of the self-convinced doorbell evangelist. “Gaia now stands for the idea that the earth is in fact an actual living being. And we have seen just how deeply we have injured Gaia.”
Fred Loud Owl crossed his legs, listening intently to Longworthy’s words. He scribbled in a sweat-stained notebook, looking up occasionally.
“This is why we must seriously entertain the idea that Homo sapiens has become an alien predator species, a huge and growing burden on this injured biosphere.”
Fred sat quietly, his gray-streaked black hair drawn back, his piercing dark eyes watchful, his face working hard to hide his amused contempt.
“Years ago a new name for our species was proposed, Homo ecophagus, which means species that destroys the ecosystem. I think the title has been earned by now, don’t you?”
Longworthy paused for applause.
Loud Owl stayed for the Q&A, and later milled about in the crowd. People smiled at the trophy Indian in their midst but no one spoke to him as he moved among them, smiling, alert for overheard conversational fragments. He paid close attention to the two women who had come with Longworthy. One of them greeted him briefly, but abandoned any further conversation once she had verified that Loud Owl was merely a Local Native, and not a Somebody. Eventually Fred slipped out the side door. Moments later he was in the brilliant sun.
Near the plaza, he found his brush-scarred pickup next to a spotless bronze convertible. Fred Loud Owl had never shopped for such a car but he knew that its price exceeded the value of his father’s house several times over. He removed a parking ticket from the truck windshield, shrugging. Then Fred slipped the ticket under the wiper blades of the bronze convertible, adding a note to the bottom, “Please forward to Rex Longworthy. Fred Loud Owl – for my expenses.”
He left town as he had come.
——
Two hours later, Old Chief Walking Wolf looked up when Fred entered his tent two hours later. “Welcome, Loud Owl,” he said.
The filtered light was yellow, and smoke curled out of the Chief’s favorite pipe toward the vent hole in the top of the teepee.
Loud Owl’s attention was immediately drawn to a very tall Indian with distinctive dark features. Fred immediately recognized the man. He was High Tree, Gabriel’s storied relative, a Nez Perce warrior who had served as an Army Ranger, then distinguished himself as an Olympic medalist in archery. High Tree was seated next to Chief Walking Wolf. Both men smiled as Loud Own stepped inside.
“Fred, this is Gabriel Standing Bear’s cousin, Walter High Tree. Join us. Share the pipe.” Fred Loud Owl nodded respectfully at both men, and sat cross-legged on the dirt across from them. Fred took the antler pipe in his hands and slowly inhaled.
“The wife won’t let me smoke in the house anymore,” High Tree said.
Chief Walking Wolf smiled. “You should get out of the house more.”
Fred grinned and handed the pipe to the large Nez Perce.
“It seems High Tree’s Son is to be named by the Nez Perce Tribe in Idaho soon,” the Chief said. “Just like young Standing Bear was when you were there.”
“And like his daughter, Snowfeather,” Fred added.
“The family would very much like you to come,” High Tree said. “Gabriel remembers your hunting lessons well. His office told me he would try to be there.”
“I haven’t been to our old hunting places for a long time,” Fred Loud Owl said. “Is it very different these days?”
High Tree’s eyes twinkled. “Different…and the same. My son and I are going early next month. I have plenty of room for you in the van, if you can come. I can give you a refresher course with my new bow.”
“I will, then.”
“Good, I’ll ask Gabriel to join us.”
“No smoking in the van?” Fred’s face was deadpan but his eyes twinkled.
“Gabriel’s people will be happy to see you again.”
“What can you tell us about the event in Santa Fe?” Chief Walking Wolf asked. “And thank you for attending on my behalf.”
Loud Owl nodded and took out his notebook. “It was good that you did not attend in person, I think. This is a traveling show, with a movie, a speech by an environmental lawyer, a true believer named Longworthy, and s
ome big fundraising. They talk about the earth as a living being named Gaia. The idea has its good points.”
“I thought you might say that.”
“We have always seen the Great Spirit in the world, in every part. Many of the Gaia worshipers talk about respect for the world, the land, the animals, about the deep interconnections. Of course they are right about that…as far as it goes.”
“Can you tell me more?”
“As you suspected, this is becoming a huge movement among certain groups. I wish…” Fred paused, searching for the words. “I wish it didn’t worry me so much. I think there is something very dangerous at the core of this.” Walking Wolf stared at him intensely, as if he might have already entertained the same suspicion. “Of course, they would very much like the public support of Native Americans.”
The Chief nodded knowingly. “No doubt. Did anyone talk to you?”
“Not much. I noticed a couple of women—one from Germany I think. They were working the room. One of them—her name was Berker—thanked me for coming. She did it as if she already knew me and in a voice that the others could hear. Then she paid close attention to the rich ones.” Walking Wolf smiled slightly at that. He’d been there many times before. “They were fundraising for something called the Gaia Network. They also called it the G-A-N. Don’t know what the ‘A’ stands for. The white eyes are fond of using letters where words would do.” The phrase, “white eyes” was a running joke among the Indians who were enjoying the current old western movie fad. Walking Wolf smiled again as Fred continued. “There was a talk about humanity as an ecotumor, and a planetary malignancy.”
“What was that about?”
“I think they meant it almost literally—that we human beings are a tumor, a cancer on the world, an infection in Gaia.”
“We are?”
“Yes. We are the malignancy.’”
“A cancer?” Chief Walking Wolf chuckled. “Oh boy.” He laughed again; then he took a long puff from the pipe. “This is interesting. You have a good ear, Loud Owl. I chose well.” He handed Loud Owl the pipe. As the Navajo took a puff, the Chief looked at High Tree, then back at Loud Owl. “And how did the rest of them take to these crazy terms?”
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