© 2017

David H. Spielberg

Palm Beach Gardens, FL

On Vestige Way
A World Federation Novel

David H. Spielberg

PART 1

The Beginning of the End

From the rostrum above Tiananmen Gate at the northern

extremity of the plaza, Sylvia Carlyle Marshall could see a
crowd of people so vast that she couldn't encompass it. Never
had she experienced this kind of foreign outpouring of solidari-
ty with the United States. She expected things to be on a mas-
sive scale in The People's Republic of China, but the magnitude
of sympathetic outpouring overwhelmed her. With an area of
440,000 square meters, this was the largest plaza on Earth. De-
spite her winter clothing, Sylvia's teeth were chattering in the
bitter cold as a north wind blew across the Square and the
thronging crowd. The hastily erected wooden walls on either
side of the elevated rostrum provided scant protection against
the late January winds that swept through the level and open
plaza.
It is said that Napoleon III widened the Champs-Élysées in
Paris to its extraordinary width, not only to offer space for cele-
brations worthy of an emperor!s army but also to control unruly
and possibly rebellious crowds. Tiananmen Square likewise had
similar multiple advantages. Yet it was impossible at this mo-
ment, she felt, to experience anything but awe at this vast, en-
thusiastic gathering of humanity, numbering over a million
people, moved to gather there by the death of an American gen-
eral.
Viewed from her lofty vantage point along with the other
dignitaries, Sylvia could see the towering column of the Mon-
ument to the People!s Heroes in the center of the plaza. Beyond
the Monument, further south, was the massive and looming


tribute to the George Washington of their country, the Mau-
soleum of Mao Zedong.
Sylvia looked around once again at the honored guests she
sat among. These were the most powerful people on Earth. That
General Morgan Slaider merited such honors Sylvia did not in
the least doubt even for a moment. What was most unreal to
her was that she sat among these elect. Only twelve years ago
she was a young, black, female physicist, the dependable right
arm of her boss, then as now, Dr. Arthur J. Cranshaw, founder
of AJC Fusion Incorporated. Her unexpected and unlikely rise
to eminence, her achievements as Deputy Director of the Fed-
eration Laser-Fusion Agency, everything she became since her
AJC Fusion days she owed to General Slaider. Even more stun-
ning to her was where she now was sitting in Beijing, China,
eleven thousand kilometers from General Slaider!s home in
Maryland, attending this second national memorial ceremony.
Ritual has always been an essential ingredient for both pol-
itics and the military. When the emotions of each intersect at the
death of one charismatic individual, the effect on people is at
once cautionary, liberating and exhausting. The tributes to Gen-
eral Slaider continued unabated for both his extraordinary tal-
ents and boldness. Remembering all he had done to protect
America under the direst circumstances, Sylvia could not re-
strain her sobs once again at his passing.
Five days earlier, the rituals of an American state funeral
reserved for presidents, vice presidents, and other especially
high officers of government ran their dignified and orchestrated
course. All of America watched Marion Slaider as her hus-
band!s casket was transferred from the hearse used to bring the
general!s body to Washington to its position of honor atop the


waiting limber and caisson. The limber and caisson then made
its slow and somber way to Constitution Avenue, drawn by
three pairs of same-colored horses. On one horse of each pair
sat an erect and solemn soldier. An honor guard escort repre-
senting each branch of the major US military forces flanked the
casket. Additional military units followed slowly further be-
hind, followed still further back by a line of limousines led by
the one bearing Mrs. Slaider, her son, and two daughters. In the
vehicle with Mrs. Slaider was Major General Roland Stanwick,
ramrod straight and chivalrous commander of the Military Dis-
trict of Washington, who was Mrs. Slaider!s official escort. But
most affecting, immediately following the limber and caisson
with its casket, was the white riderless horse named Lightning,
head held high and slowly led by its bridle by a soldier from the
US Army 1st Cavalry Division. In the stirrups were the general!s
riding boots, reversed as if looking back at the troops he would
never again see or lead. A segment of the Marine band, in mea-
sured steps, played muffled drums directly behind the riderless
horse.
The caisson paused for a moment at 4th and Constitution
Avenue where the band played "Eternal Father, Strong to Save.”
The procession then resumed its slow progress down Constitu-
tion Avenue toward Capitol Hill until it reached the steps of the
Capitol building. The honor guard removed the casket from the
limber and caisson to begin its stately transfer up the steps to
the rotunda of the Capital. whereupon a 19-gun salute began,
each rifle firing at thirty-second intervals until the casket settled
on its bier at the center of the rotunda whereupon the honor
guard re-established itself around the bier.


President Llewellyn had issued a presidential decree clos-
ing all government offices for the day and declaring a national
day of mourning. He spoke graciously at Washington National
Cathedral about General Slaider!s service to his country and
their long and close friendship. The president recalled the days
that Sylvia remembered so well. Even though the nation knew
General Slaider was fighting a brave but losing battle with dis-
ease, still the finality of death, even when expected and there is
time to prepare, is a stunning reminder that the least among us,
likewise the greatest among us are all mortal. We take nothing
with us, and all that remains when we die are the seeds we
sewed in life. The President urged all his fellow Americans and
General Slaider!s friends worldwide to follow the general!s ex-
ample of courage, self-sacrifice, and purpose to hold not a shal-
low and foolish vision of their lives but a deep and meaningful
vision. If you want to shoot for the stars, the President said, the
lesson of Morgan Slaider!s life was that you have to aim at the
sky.
The President did not mention that General Slaider!s vision
and President Llewellyn!s codifying a world powered by laser-
induced fusion energy could not have come to fruition had it
not been for Dr. Cranshaw and his team of scientists and man-
agers. Nor did he mention that Sylvia had been the glue that
held AJC Fusion together when chaos had reigned and Dr.
Cranshaw!s dreams were turning to dust along with his compa-
ny before it became the Federation Laser-Fusion Agency. Under
her direction and Dr. Cranshaw!s mentorship, the Laboratory
had fulfilled the dream that former President Drummond had
died for and that President Llewellyn had enshrined into law by
his "arrangement” with The People!s Republic of China: cheap,
4


widespread, virtually unlimited fusion energy and successful
exploitation of the moon!s rich supply of the rare helium iso-
tope, Helium-3, needed for the mix of ingredients that made the
fusion process work.
The US President didn!t mention these things, but they
were why Sylvia now found herself in Beijing going through
the same gut-wrenching commemoration she endured in Wash-
ington. My god, she thought, how much this man has changed
the geopolitics of the world. Sylvia listened distractedly, not
caring about the translation or what was being said. She was
confident it was appropriate, genuine, and moving. She looked
around her in continuous amazement at the Americans who had
also traveled for this historic gathering to this historic location
with our unlikely partner, masters of an untrodden world of
geopolitical economics.
The United States and The People!s Republic of China had
locked arms to create a new world organization, an organization
that displaced and replaced the old United Nations with not yet
another political "good intention” but with a very real entity, the
"super-corporation.” Amidst all this, she knew that she was here
among the illustrious of the world not for merely a dream come
true, but an outcome beyond her wildest dreams of twelve years
ago with the formation of The World Federation.
Lost in thought, the approaching engine roar of five Chi-
nese J-13 "Flanker” jet fighters flying in "missing man” forma-
tion suddenly ripped the air. This formation was famously first
devised, Sylvia had learned, by World War I British fighter pi-
lots honoring the funeral of Manfred von Richthofen, better
known as the Red Baron. She saw a similar tribute over the


United States Capitol as General Slaider!s coffin was being car-
ried up the steps to the rotunda.
The crowd below looked skyward and applauded their pi-
lots as the five jets approaching from the south streaked to-
wards Tiananmen Square. The formation leader took the point
position while two elements of two formed on either side, com-
pleting the "V”. Just as the formation was directly over the
square, in plain sight to all, the left wingman broke formation,
rolling to the left, to the west, symbolically into where the set-
ting sun would vanish, thus honoring the missing man. On for-
eign land and among foreign people, this gesture of respect for
General Slaider by the People!s Liberation Army Air Force es-
pecially moved Sylvia.
The crowd below was still applauding as the planes flew
quickly out of sight when suddenly Sylvia heard another rising
roar of engines coming from the east. Another formation of jets
was rapidly approaching. The crowd turned and watched with
excitement as the planes approached for what they assumed was
another flyover by the PLAAF. As the fighters drew nearer a
gasp of astonishment rose from a million onlookers as a forma-
tion of five clearly marked United States Air Force F-25 fighter
jets, also in missing man formation, approached rapidly toward
the Square.
A startled silence gripped the anxious crowd for a moment.
When the formation was directly over Tiananmen Square, the
left F-25 Super Eagle wingman suddenly broke formation going
this time into a steep vertical climb, rising up, up, up into the
gray overcast sky until lost from view in the clouds, symboliz-
ing their fallen comrade!s journey into eternity. At the instant
the fighter broke formation, the crowd suddenly went wild,


shouting and clapping and waving their arms at the American
fighter planes receding as abruptly as they had arrived. When
all planes had vanished, as if activated by an electric signal,
every face turned toward the rostrum filled with dignitaries
from around the world and in their million waved their little
flags and sang.

***

Establishing a hydrogen energy economy proved more dif-

ficult than expected. Even now, Sylvia well knew, the in-
frastructure was only in its early stages of development. She
called it when among friends, the Bullshit stage. Almost every
necessity was being done for the first time, so even among the
eager and converted misgiving lurked behind every task. The
unique properties of hydrogen stoked the dismay.
Hydrogen is the smallest molecule in nature and so can
escape from containers closed convincingly for any other gases.
Seals, joints, valves, and containers all have to be "perfect." A
perfect container and transport system is to an engineer as un-
conventional as "unlimited" credit is to a banker. The terms
were almost devoid of meaning, there being no precedent for
the concept. Yet, as had happened so often in the history of
laser-induced fusion energy, solutions appear when enough bril-
liant minds resolve to find a solution rather than merely to study
the problem forever.
The lumbering train of hydrogen energy worldwide was
finally gaining momentum. With a critical mass of countries,
subscribers, and franchisees, the finances of The World Federa-
tion were becoming self-sustaining. James had written a won-
derful article, Sylvia thought, on the projected expansion of the
7


number of franchise countries over the next ten years. He de-
scribed the scientific achievements accomplished by the in-
ternational research body of the World Federation and the chal-
lenges they still faced. She was so proud of her husband's con-
tributions.
Politically, the governments confirmed General Slaider!s
expectation that they would "adjust” their governing strategies
and policies to score well on the domestic stability test to quali-
fy for a franchise. As Dr. Cranshaw frequently told her, finan-
cial self-interest can become the driving agent of high-minded
principles. The genius of General Slaider!s plan was to marry
the two. He believed he could motivate altruism by financial
self-interest. Domestic stability was the key to the door of
membership in The World Federation. The surprising result was
that the ruling elites of countries formerly known for an intran-
sigent autocracy discovered that with careful planning they
could still enjoy the benefits of ruling while also promoting the
wellbeing of those they ruled. Besides, access to the World
Federation!s technology and materiel demanded it.
Sylvia relaxed for the first time when she arrived back at
the Rosewood following the end of the ceremony. The Rose-
wood Beijing hotel knew how to cater to foreign dignitaries, to
entertain them if that was what they wanted and to isolate them
when that was what they needed. Right now, it was the latter
she craved. The Rosewood had the most magnificent apartment
suites she had ever experienced. The rooms were spacious be-
yond any self-indulgent expectation, verging on the absurd. Yet
ironically, they were furnished, decorated, and illuminated with
a reserved elegance that belied the almost pointless extrava-
gance of size.


Comfortably seated in a chair facing the oversized window
that offered a panoramic view of the city from her twenty sto-
ries high vantage, Sylvia Marshal finally had time to miss
James. In the eleventh year of their marriage, it was usually he
who was the absent party, his job with the World Federation
taking him to all corners of Earth, and even once to the moon. It
didn't matter to her now whether it was he who was absent or
she. The void was there either way.
Sylvia!s thoughts returned to when she first met James at
the AJC Fusion headquarters, how his skeptical view of their
claims gradually abated as she escorted him through the lab and
after his meeting with Dr. Cranshaw. She remembered the
crazy, scary times when the country was in chaos following the
attacks on the nation!s energy infrastructure, the death of the
President, and finally the imposition of martial law. That was
the scariest of all for her as she remembered waiting, terrified in
her Brooklyn Heights apartment, for some sign that government
officials had restored safety and security. She remembered how
she felt when James unexpectedly appeared on her doorstep.
Like the Marines had landed she said to him then and how she
felt when they made love for the first time during those desper-
ate hours.
She leaned back more comfortably into her heavily cush-
ioned chair and closed her eyes. Yes, she thought, we trans-
formed the world since that dangerous year of transition. Who
would have thought the United Nations would crumble and that
we would establish an unimagined form of international coop-
eration not based on xenophobic national self-interest, but on
multinational economic self-preservation? The threat of losing
access to the laser-fusion technology and essential materials


obtainable only through the World Federation proved to be
everything General Slaider predicted it would be. A failure to
get access to the Federation monopoly quickly showed the cat-
astrophic financial consequences to the few nations who chal-
lenged the rules and resisted the mandates for membership, who
tried to go it alone. There was one major exception. The Russ-
ian Federation.The World Federation, General Slaider explained
to her twelve years ago, was not simply an organization to join
but a business entity, a super-corporation such as had never ex-
isted in the history of humanity. The World Federation tran-
scends national borders and narrow national agendas. Denial of
a franchise for the laser-fusion package is tantamount to eco-
nomic ruin for the rejected nation. Sylvia believed Russia
would soon decide it had made its anger known at being left out
of the charter membership club and in time would join.
Unlike the Universal Declaration of Human Rights pro-
mulgated by the United Nations, The World Federation political
stability protocol would be a mandate with teeth. It would tie
political stability and the happiness of the people, General
Slaider explained, to economic survival and profitability rather
than to altruism and the delusion of human rights. Instead, in
the economic interests of the world, in every geographic region,
social stability must reign for stable economic and political out-
comes. Fail the domestic stability test and you don!t receive a
franchise.
Sylvia thought with deep admiration about Ranjit Lal, the
former General Secretary of the United Nations, and now CEO
of The World Federation. In a few short years, he has brought
the vision alive of a world-governing model that benefitted the
people while keeping the cooperation of the oligarchy. Lal!s

10


masterful use of the carrot and the stick had changed the course
of human destiny. But most amazing of all, Sylvia thought, was
the cooperation General Slaider had nursed successfully from
the very beginning between the United States and The People!s
Republic of China. General Slaider!s vision got the teeth it
needed without the threat of military force when the US and
China claimed joint sovereignty, in the name of The World Fed-
eration, to the moon and its helium riches.
The moon was home to a bountiful and exclusive supply of
the one chemical not found in nature on Earth beyond trace
amounts, but crucial to an economically workable laser-fusion
process, the isotope of helium, He-3. The steady rain, from the
sun to the moon, of this isotope in the solar wind, was the limit-
ing factor that made laser-induced fusion energy possible. Only
the United States and China possessed the resources and power
to monopolize and guard the moon against competing efforts by
entities that foolishly might think to challenge their monopoly.
In creating this new world order, Sylvia agreed, the ends
did justify the means, and the results spoke for themselves.
Wherever franchises existed the living standard of the people
soared. Opposition to the power of the World Federation melted
away, and the conversion to hydrogen-based energy was gain-
ing speed as more and more fossil-fuel-fired power stations
were being retired. Small pockets of opposition based on na-
tional rather than economic loyalty were, as predicted, proving
unsustainable. A peaceful Earth was now possible.
Despite all this, Sylvia wondered, why am I worried?

11

It had been a painful change for Arthur Cranshaw. There

was only one decision to make: agree to General Slaider!s
terms. The terms were generous, to be sure, but not the outcome
Cranshaw had built his dreams around.
He would have the same team working for him he had as-
sembled at AJC Fusion. His budget was virtually whatever he
said he needed. His purview went beyond the US presidential
seat of power to an even wider stage. Through the World Feder-
ation, his influence now spread over the entire Earth and to
some extent to the moon, as he consulted on the Helium-3 lunar
mining operation.
But it cost Cranshaw his company. While his authority was
extensive, he still had a bureaucracy above him he had to deal
with and all the inertia and second-guessing that came with it.
Thankfully, he could depend on the financial and business bril-
liance of his old friend and former CFO of his company,
Samuel Berman, to keep him out of trouble with the bureaucra-
cy. And Sylvia!s administrative staff kept the wheels moving in
the right direction, on time and within budget. She had an un-
canny ability to sniff out where the technology and the finances
were no longer on the same path. Sylvia could sense before
anyone else realized when a project was going off the tracks
and then correct the problem before it escalated.
General Slaider made the pot as sweet as possible. Cran-
shaw knew that. But Slaider also made clear there would be no
sharing of resources, no people, no equipment, no money with-
out ceding control and ownership of the technology to the
World Federation. Besides, as with everyone else on Earth, the
12


World Federation monopoly of lunar Helium-3 trapped him.
And as with everyone else, without it, he too would be stopped
in his technical development tracks. So he moved on, having
come to terms with the only decision he could make. It was just
Hobson!s Choice.
Eminent men have powerful egos. Cranshaw enjoyed be-
ing the big fish in the small pond that was AJC Fusion. Now he
was a big fish in an enormous pond and that, he found, com-
pensated for his lost pride of ownership. So Cranshaw was one
of the elect among men, one of the lucky few who could claim
no regrets.
The move to Beijing was difficult at first, but it made
sense. A new world order needed a new world headquarters.
The United States and Europe bespoke too much of the past. It
was a measure of the irony surrounding the move that the
world!s oldest civilization would be the seat of the world!s new-
est governing paradigm.
For Samuel Berman, it was easier. He and his wife were
cosmopolitans, comfortable with their European roots, and easi-
ly adapting to differing cultures. China was just one more. It
was more difficult for Sylvia. It involved the uprooting of a
family, of her and James and their son, Jonas. Little Jonas, be-
ing only five, adapted more easily than his parents. The Chinese
love children. Jonas could have attended the American School
where the American diplomats and CEOs sent their children,
but even at his young age, he would have none of that. He
wanted to immerse deeply in China and that would not happen
in the cloistered experience of an English-only pre-school.
Jonas made friends easily at Beijing City International School
and soon spoke Mandarin better than his parents. Genes will out

13


and he was a bright and charming young boy. Cranshaw cher-
ished his role as Uncle Arthur to Jonas. To a child in China,
every adult male was "Uncle" or "Shushu.”
Sylvia made whatever adjustments were necessary to work
productively. The language was the challenge she found most
daunting. She did not need to struggle with learning Mandarin
since almost every educated person in China spoke English.
However, it was not in Sylvia's temperament to let such an ob-
vious goal defeat her. To live in the country and not be able to
speak the language, to her was a disrespectful path. So she sol-
diered on with her Mandarin lessons, besides everything else on
her plate.
James was a different story. His adjustment was still a
work in process.

***

Cranshaw got up from his chair and paced nervously, aim-

lessly in his office. He stopped for a moment to look out the
large window facing southeast to the central business district.
There was a constant bustle of heavy construction that com-
pounded the noise of the already heavy traffic below. However,
the continuing conversion to electric vehicles removed most of
the pervasive and choking smog that had plagued Beijing in the
past.
It had been raining all day, and Cranshaw observed the
flooded streets from his office window. The rain dampened
Cranshaw!s mood. About four years ago, the summer rains last-
ed noticeably longer. Instead of the dependable brief daily
showers, the rain pattern had shifted to daylong downpours.

14


The Beijing spring had undergone its own change. Noted for
the frequent but short-lived sandstorms, the city in the last few
years had been subject to less numerous but more damaging
tornadoes. This had become regular enough that the city in-
stalled tornado-warning sirens.
Cranshaw turned to look at his office. After his relocation
six years ago, it gradually acquired the distinctive plaques, dec-
orations, books, and mementoes that made it his and no one
else's. It was more spacious than his former office in Ann Ar-
bor, but not extravagantly so. He was afraid that he would suc-
cumb to the "edifice complex" so typical of bureaucrats with
generous budgets. He had resisted extravagance in his office
and his research and development activities. Vast expenditures
and outsized equipment did not characterize his projects. How-
ever, what his work lacked in grandeur they made up in variety.
Cranshaw was a man of startling originality and wide-ranging
curiosity. As a result, instead of a handful of "flagship" projects,
his department was managing almost fifty, ranging from the
improvement of biological and medical imaging, to communi-
cations, to hydrogen containment, fuel cell optimization and, of
course, to weaponry. The laser-induced fusion system lent itself
well to thermonuclear detonation simulations. The upside of
this, Cranshaw reasoned, was that it significantly reduced the
need for actual testing.
The People!s Republic of China, despite its inside track
status, required the greatest adjusting to the new world order.
Cranshaw remembered how unlikely the US/China partnership
had seemed to him twelve years ago. While the US then was
closing coal-fired power stations to reduce carbon dioxide
emissions to the atmosphere, China had been adding such sta-

15


tions at the rate of about one a week … before there was even a
need for such added capacity. The investment by China in such
an energy strategy had been the equivalent of trillions of US
dollars. Cranshaw realized the successful development of laser-
fusion technology as an alternative to fossil fuels had taken
China by surprise. Researchers predicted the achievement of
successful fusion energy for so many years that virtually no one
took it for more than a black hole research project that money
fell into and disappeared. Cranshaw!s unexpected success
blindsided China, concerned more about industrial and com-
mercial development than about environmental considerations
and the use of sustainable fuels.
China!s response at the time stunned Cranshaw. The Chi-
nese currency, the yuan, was in danger of being overthrown
from its status as the premier international reserve currency, a
title formerly held by the US dollar. The advantage of the one-
party system had always been the ability to turn on a dime, and
so China exercised its strength and turned on a dime. It halted
all further coal-fired power plant approvals or construction.
Their engineers developed plans for converting existing plants
to laser-fusion plants and redesigned those not yet built to adopt
the laser-fusion technology.
China had no choice. The problem facing the world was
the so-called #One Degree War,!$the goal set by scientists for the
allowable safe rise in the average temperature of Earth to avoid
catastrophic environmental collapse. Unfortunately, the world
already lost that woar. Laser-fusion energy provided the only
sustainable energy path to circumvent an imminent threat to a
life-friendly Earth. It also provided a critical weapon in the

16


#One Degree and a Half Degree War!$by emitting no greenhouse
gases while it provided for the world!s energy needs.
There was a knock on Cranshaw!s office door.
"Enter.”
Samuel Berman walked in, smiling as he caught Cran-
shaw!s eye. He moved to one of the two leather chairs in front
of Cranshaw!s desk.
"Hello, Arthur,” Berman said as he nestled into the chair.
The two men could not be more different in appearance.
Cranshaw was a substantial man in every way. He had always
been obese to the point of life-threatening. It was a condition he
seemed unable or unwilling to deal with. Now mostly bald with
wisps of short, white hair on both temples, he had lost the boy-
ish look he kept even into middle age. His skin, still bloated, no
longer had the pinkish hue of youth. It had turned over the years
to a more ancient ivory pallor. But there was still the transcen-
dent confidence of his posture, the backward lean of his body
against his chair that suggested tranquility and the absence of a
need to convince. This was a man content with himself and
with his life.
Berman had maintained a thin, unexceptional figure, even
now. He showed not so much the ravages of age but the grace-
ful decline of a simple body whose only task had been to sup-
port and protect the human calculator within. The eyes may be
the window to the soul for most, but for Berman they were a
scrupulously analytical sensor, taking in much but revealing
little beyond the alert gaze of constant awareness. He wore the
glasses of a scholar and the full head of hair, though gray, of a
man who grew seasoned with age, rather than old. He was not
an imposing physical presence, but a dependable intellectual
17


one. There was something almost alarming about the penetra-
tion of his observations. He revealed all only to Arthur Cran-
shaw.
These two men, when once their life paths intersected,
connected forever in a bond of trust. Like some second-rate ro-
mance novel, it was a kind of love at first sight and just as
quickly they understood their roles. Cranshaw would provide
the vision, adventure, and financial reward that would enliven
Berman's sedate world and Berman would protect Cranshaw,
the dreamer, and risk-taker, from himself.
"So Samuel. How goes the battle today?”
Berman sighed as he sank deeper into the chair. He met
Cranshaw!s steady gaze, aware from experience that this was
not a trivial social question.
"The conversion is not happening fast enough, Arthur.”
Berman held Cranshaw!s steady gaze.
"The atmospheric carbon dioxide level is already ap-
proaching 550 parts per million according to the latest values
from the Mauna Loa observatory. The trend line just keeps go-
ing up.” Unaware he was doing so, Berman!s hands were ner-
vously rubbing his knees.
"The slope of the CO2 concentration line is also increas-
ing. We may have already lost the One and a Half Degree War.”
Berman stopped for a moment to check Cranshaw!s reaction.
There was none.
“You know, when Mount Tambora erupted four years
ago,” Berman continued, "we got a temporary halt to the rise in
Earth!s temperature, but we also got a lot of carbon dioxide
emitted along with the ash and sulfur. So it was a mixed bless-
ing. The cooling effect of the droplets in the stratosphere is
18


winding down but the carbon dioxide, it will stay and do its
dirty work for a very long time.” Berman paused as if hearing
the words from someone else. With another sigh, he folded his
hands in his lap and said, "Nothing we are doing seems to help.
The conversion is just too little, too late.”
Both men were tired and frustrated. Cranshaw understood
the problem well enough. Earth was like a sick patient with too
many symptoms. The complex web of entanglements and de-
pendencies of the human body is easily matched and perhaps
exceeded by the web of entanglements of Earth's biological and
geological systems. Global warming was slow to start and slow
to stop because of the built-in momentum of the gases already
in the atmosphere. Neither man could imagine how humanity
could undo the damage to Earth that accumulated over two
hundred and fifty years of burning fossil fuels.
"The lag time is the problem,” Berman said. "It!s Earth
we!re trying to fix, not a pushcart. It!s like ants trying to build a
pyramid. The resources don!t yet match the task.” Berman
seemed to sink even further into his armchair.
Cranshaw let his friend and advisor vent. After a few mo-
ments, Cranshaw was ready to confront whatever Berman was
reluctant to state upfront.
"What did Lal say?” Cranshaw asked, referring to
Berman!s early morning meeting with the President of the
World Federation.
"He knows that the conversion to hydrogen is going as
quickly as possible. But it!s not fast enough. Things are getting
away from us, Arthur. We!ve gone as far and as fast with wind
and solar power plants. They!re still limited by suitable sites

19


and transmission problems. We just can!t get enough wind and
solar energy to where people are, to the cities, without losing
too much energy in the long-distance transmission lines. Super-
conducting power lines are not practical. Probably never will
be. We have teams in other parts of the Federation working on
high voltage direct current transmission lines, but that!s not
ready for deployment yet according to Lal. It looks like we will
never get above twenty-five percent of the energy mix from
wind and solar. Hydrogen can make up the balance, but time is
not our friend, Arthur.” Berman went silent again, twisting un-
easily in his chair.
"Samuel, what did the board want you to tell me?” Cran-
shaw knew there was a shoe about to drop.
Berman smiled at his old friend, knowing he would want
the condensed version without the long run-up to the punch
line.
"They want us to stop all non-essential projects and put
everything we have into developing a solid-state, room temper-
ature Maser. We can then use it to transmit energy anywhere
using satellite relays. The argument all along for the Maser, as
you know, Arthur, is that the microwave energy from a Maser
will pass through rain, snow, clouds, and smoke while light en-
ergy from a laser will not." Berman checked Cranshaw!s reac-
tion. Until now, no one in the World Federation hierarchy had
ever dictated to him. Cranshaw was used to a free hand and
nothing but praise.
"Go on, Samuel. I have a feeling you!re not done.”
Berman laughed. "Well, we!ve always known the advan-
tage of microwaves over light for energy transmission through
the atmosphere, but now it!s become critical. They!re giving us
20


eighteen months to have a commercial design and prototype
capable of transmitting five hundred megawatts to a relay satel-
lite. A Maser for the ground and a Maser for the relay satellite.
Eighteen months.” He paused for a moment. "Eighteen months,
yes, but the Federation will deny us nothing in the way of peo-
ple and resources. Lal is talking about setting up a separate pro-
gram with the Chinese to develop the satellite components of
the system. The American team will continue working on the
high voltage direct current landline system.”
Cranshaw leaned back in his chair, no longer looking at
Berman. His body rocked ever so slightly. Berman knew the
sign well. Arthur Cranshaw was slipping into a meditative state
that might last for hours. With a perfunctory nod, Berman rose
and left Cranshaw to his thoughts.%

21

"So, Jonas, tell me about your day.” James Marshall leaned

back in his chair, waiting for his seven-year-old son to form
what he wanted to say. Jonas scrunched up his face, deep in
strategizing his answer while Lijuan, wearing a bright yellow
serving jacket over dark gray pants, served the first course of
their Friday night dinner, a cold, marinated cucumber salad
with white rice.
"It was so fun, Dad. We did lots of stuff. We made cookies.
And we got to decorate them. And also we worked some more
on our class model of the Great Wall. We had to wash our hands
again after that because the clay made our hands stink.”
Sylvia leaned towards Jonas and took one of his hands and
smelled it carefully. "Hmm," she said, "they smell yummy
now." Jonas giggled. He was large for a seven-year-old. His
skin was the typical pale brown of a mixed-race child, but his
eyes were a vibrant hazel. He inherited the same hair like his
mother's, wavy rather than kinky. His face was an appealing
mixture of the angularity of James's facial bone structure and
the softening roundness around the eyes and lips that he got
from Sylvia. He dressed like a typical upper-class Chinese
schoolboy with blue pants, an orange tee-shirt, and sneakers
with flamboyant socks.
"Did you bring any cookies home?” James asked.
"I!m sorry, Dad. I ate them all.” Jonas hung his head but
still had a grin.
James laughed. "That!s not fair. Next time you have to save
some for Mommy and me. Okay?”
Jonas nodded. "I promise,” he said.
22


"What else did you do?”
"We played football, and we also went swimming. But I
like football better. And we heard a story. A man came and told
us a story about bears. I didn't understand all of it, but I'm get-
ting better. Teacher Yah-Fen says I say the words pretty good
for an American."
"That!s great, Jonas. I#m very proud of you. Lijuan says the
same thing when you speak with her in Mandarin.”
At that moment, Lijuan returned to remove the appetizer
dishes. It was expected, because of their elevated status, that
Sylvia and James would have a servant. She was twenty-two
years old. Her parents were a mixture of Chinese and Japanese.
This combination had become more common as Japanese
women stopped saying they wanted French lovers and Ameri-
can houses and began touting American food and Chinese
men. Lijuan took the best features of both her parents and was
a 160-centimeter Asian beauty, as James described her to his
former US boss, Dick Scully, at the Washington Courier.
In a few moments, Lijuan returned with bowls of vegetable
miso soup and more rice. James and Sylvia did not expect meat
for the main dish since China banned the sale of fish and meat
every day except Monday and Wednesday. Sylvia and James
expected a creative soy substitute. It was amazing to Sylvia
how many ways Lijuan could alter and present tofu.
Lijuan spoke something in Mandarin to Jonas, and he an-
swered her in Mandarin. She gave Sylvia a smile of apprecia-
tion and Sylvia high-fived Jonas. James took advantage of the
family gathering to discuss with Jonas and Sylvia the details of
their planned weekend trip to the countryside outside Beijing
city limits.

23


When the family finished dinner and the dishes removed
from the dining room table, Lijuan went to the kitchen to clean
up while Jonas got ready for bed. He kissed his mother and
hugged his father good night.
When Lijuan returned, James asked her to bring a bottle of
red wine and the crystal wine glasses to the table. It was Friday
evening, the end of the work week and time for a small celebra-
tion. They had completed their first full week in their new home
in the Shunyi district to the northeast of central Beijing, well
beyond the fifth ring. It was a significant commute, but they
appreciated the quiet suburban atmosphere and the proximity to
international schools, shopping malls, good public transporta-
tion, and other amenities. Hotel living had been luxurious but
not, after two years in Beijing, how they wanted to raise Jonas
as a kind of male version of Eloise at the Plaza.
When Lijuan returned she opened the bottle and poured the
wine while James and Sylvia relaxed in the quiet peacefulness
of their home. They let the wine air for a few moments. From
the wry smile on James!s face, Sylvia knew a story was
coming., James said, "Ah, to the inscrutable politics of China.”
James raised his glass and leaning forward clicked it with
Sylvia!s.
"All right, out with it. What inscrutable story did you pick
up from your nosy, newsy buddies at the office?”
It pleased Sylvia that James was honoring his pledge to be
home for dinner at least every Friday if he was in town. No late
Friday or weekend meetings. When he left the Washington
Courier after they got married and moved to Beijing. His new
position in the Information Office of The World Federation
would involve a lot of travel. It relieved Sylvia that he found a

24


position in the Federation that would use his scientific expertise
and his journalist's snooping skills to advantage. But they had
to set some rules for the sake of the family.
"Well,” James began, "things are not going so well for
President Zhou. The good old days when presidents of The
People!s Republic were untouchable demigods are over. Wang
going down in flames, undone by the bean counters, proved
that.”
"I always thought that was too bad,” Sylvia said. "Wang
was only being practical, facing reality the way he did. It!s one
thing I admire so much about the Chinese, their willingness to
admit when they have a problem and do something about it.”
Sylvia had met President Wang in the early days of the
founding of the World Federation and liked him. "He had to do
something about all those coal plants they built or had in the
pipeline.” She knew that Wang!s decisions at the time incorpo-
rated more than just hard financial calculations.
"He had no choice about collaborating with the US if there
was any hope for staving off environmental disaster, and the
Council knew it.”
James was smiling at Sylvia as she put on her "feisty face”
as he called it.
"Everyone knew it. Chinese coal-fired power plants had
become the biggest human producers of carbon dioxide on
Earth. He was very brave, in my opinion. And enlightened to
use a nice Asian descriptor."
"Enlightened, yes, my darling, but enlightened premature-
ly. The bean counters or should I say the abacus crowd won out.
Wang may have bullied the State Council to go along with part-
nering with the US to form the World Federation, but he
25


couldn!t bully them into being happy about several trillion yuan
going down the toilet because they had to convert every coal-
fired power plant to a laser-fusion system.”
Sylvia took a sip of her wine. She favored the cabernet
from the Helan Mountain region of China. James shared her
selection out of solidarity but preferred a good single malt
scotch, which he indulged in when with his colleagues, on a
business trip or when alone working late after Sylvia had gone
to sleep.
"I just think it was unfair,” Sylvia said.
"Sylvie? Fair? You know fair has nothing to do with it. And
now President Zhou is under a lot of pressure as well, but not
about the yuan this time.”
"Yes, but Zhou Xiang is a smart cookie, James. He knew
how to take advantage of a honeymoon period when he took
office. He's surrounded by his people and seems to get his way,
mostly. At least from what I can see. And I hear there!s finally
an income stream worth mentioning from licensing fees and the
sale of lunar Helium-3.” Sylvia had her own sources of gossip.
"Maybe so,” James said, looking skeptical. But that!s not
the problem Zhou is facing. It!s not about finances. Why he!s in
trouble now is...well, it!s because of the same problem that
forced the transition away from coal. Climate change. What!s at
risk now is the government itself. Even the People!s Liberation
Army, maybe, won!t be able to keep the lid on.”
"Wow, what are you talking about? Are we safe?” Sylvia
asked with obvious concern in her voice. "The PLA has always
kept things from spiraling out of control. Even the Revolution-

26


ary Guard couldn!t break the love affair between the PLA and
the people.”
"That was then. This is now.” James took a sip of his wine
to slow the conversation. He realized he was making it all
sound apocalyptic to Sylvia. She waited impatiently for him to
continue. Finally, she asked, "So?”
"It's about famine, Sylvie. For the first time in almost a
hundred and fifty years, there's genuine concern about feeding
the people. The government is still importing food like crazy,
but it's getting harder and harder to find countries with excess
food to export. And there's more and more flooding from
storms along the coast and they're beginning to threaten the
Special Economic Development Zones. The whole collabora-
tion with the US and the World Federation was supposed to
protect us all from the scary scenarios of global warming. To
the State Council and the Communist Party elite, it's starting to
look like a lost cause no matter what. And Zhou is being
blamed for not being bolder."
Sylvia gasped indignation.
"Bolder? My god, the country has been incredibly bold and
self-sacrificing, and that boldness cost President Wang his job.
And now you!re saying Zhou is being criticized for not being
bold enough?”
"Exactly. Welcome to my initial statement about the in-
scrutable Chinese politics.”
James leaned back in his chair, while Sylvia considered her
husband!s comments.
"Syl, are you okay?”
"No. I!m worried about the pace of the transition to hydro-
gen. What do you think the Council wants Zhou to do that he is
27


not doing? Do they have their own plan or are they just cover-
ing themselves by being tough for the record?”
"I hear they want to reinstate population control.”
"No! Are you sure?”
"Not really, but it makes sense. And from what I hear, the
Council is not just talking about China. They want to have other
countries institute strict population control as well. All the other
countries. And this time it will not just be so many babies per
family. It will be so many children per village, city, province,
and country. They want to return to a world population that sci-
entists could affirm was safe. I hear talk about 1930 or 1940,
for example, or whatever they come up with, and letting normal
deaths get us to a sustainable population—along with controlled
birth rates—meaning virtually none."
"Sustainable!” Sylvia said, louder than she intended. "I!m
so sick of that word. It was what drove Arthur to create AJC
Fusion, to create the whole laser-fusion technology. The World
Federation. Everything. And don!t get me wrong. I understand
its importance as a guiding principle, but sustainability is all we
ever seem to talk about. It doesn!t seem to have done any good,
and I!m sick of worrying about it. And I!m sick of worrying
about what the next generation is in for.”
Sylvia composed herself. She took a deep breath and con-
tinued. "Jimmy, I'm really worried about what Jonas will face."
She stared at James. Her frustration and fear were slowly giving
way to anger. "And now this. I don't know. Will Jonas be able to
have a family? This is all so unprecedented. There's no normal
anymore. No normal has become the new normal."

28


Sylvia put her wineglass down. "It will never fly. Maybe
they can do it in China again, but they!ll never get population
control accepted anywhere else. Not a chance in hell.”
With a sudden realization, Sylvia cried out, "Jimmie, we!re
talking about a reduction of billions of people. The numbers
don!t make sense. People won!t die fast enough. Or in large
enough numbers.”
"Exactly.”
"So it!s a plan that will fail before it even starts, but it
shows boldness.”
"Correct again, but I think we!re getting a little ahead of
ourselves here. It was just a rumor. I think it!s still in the trial
balloon stage, so to speak. Sweetheart, I need a cigar.”
James rang for Lijuan to receive her last instructions from
Sylvia before heading home. As usual, when Lijuan finished her
tasks, she would let herself out.
Sylvia and James got up and went outside to the rear patio.
They settled into their chairs and James lit his cigar. He smoked
for several minutes while Sylvia enjoyed the cool night air. Af-
ter a while, James continued where he left off.
"From what I hear, they are really worried about the politi-
cal land mines of famine, or at the very least of a serious food
price spike. People don!t go hungry quietly anymore, and they
have ways of organizing quickly these days.”
Tapping the ash off his cigar, James leaned towards Sylvia.
"More wine?” he asked. She nodded, and he refilled her glass.
"I!m afraid to ask. Is anything else coming?” Sylvia held
her wineglass, swirling the blood-red liquid. "Because there
must be. Arthur and even Samuel have been unusually inacces-

29


sible lately. I have the distinct feeling of being left out of the
loop about something. It!s not like them to keep me out of so
many private sessions they!re having together. Something is
up.”
"Darling, we!ll all find out in good time. Meanwhile, I!ll be
flying to Las Vegas on Thursday.”
Sylvia was accustomed to James flying to all parts of the
world to assess progress with the transformation to the hydro-
gen fuel and energy economy. Usually, she had less advanced
warning than six days. This time there would be more time to
plan and more time together. She tried not to think about the
future.

***

Ranjit Lal picked his head up from the report he was read-
ing. His afternoon meeting with President Zhou Xiang did not
go well and his attempt to sequester the acrimony to the back
room of his consciousness was proving unsuccessful. It was
only now, after twelve years, that former President Wang!s
gamble years ago to partner with America had paid off. At least
a positive cash flow was helping to stabilize the yuan. Not a
moment too soon, Lal brooded.
The cost of the infrastructure for mining lunar Helium-3
and returning it to Earth had been enormous, and even with the
contribution by the United States, it would still take decades to
recoup the cost of China's investment. Accelerating deteriora-
tion of the global environment rendered traditional cost/benefit
calculations irrelevant. The world would have to shift yet again,

30


because climate change disruptions, to a new economic model,
but as yet no one had a clear picture of what that model will be.
Lal turned to the picture on his wall of the first headquar-
ters building for The World Federation. It was a scene of utter
destruction; the building destroyed by saboteurs in a vain at-
tempt to protect the interests of the carbon cartel. With the val-
ue of the carbon assets still in the ground valued at the time of
the World Federation!s founding to be over four hundred trillion
dollars, it was no surprise that violence would enter the picture.
The carbon interests saw their future wealth slipping through
their fingers.
The tactics General Slaider had used in the past to suppress
opposition to the creation of the World Federation disturbed
Lal, but there was and still is no other choice, he told himself.
Suppression of opposition was buried in the secret world of the
World Federation, a world that he left to others. "The new world
order” covered a multitude of necessary sins.
Lal, though a Hindu, admired the Buddhist approach to
sin. For Buddhists, there was no such thing as sin, but instead
used the concept of unskillful behavior. He liked that. There
was no guilt-laden and shameful reproach. Instead, there was
the exhortation to change and improve. Unskillful behavior. It
was a nuanced approach Lal liked for the tough choices as they
sculpted the new world order, chipping away at the stone to find
the latent figure within.
The reports on Lal!s desk concerning China were clear.
The alarming rise in the ocean level worldwide had put Chinese
coastal investment zones in danger, and the relentless droughts
in the northern and central provinces had decimated the already
inadequate food harvests. The dire predictions of scientists at

31


the beginning of the century were proving correct, becoming an
ominous new reality. Lal allowed himself a sigh.
Ranjit Lal was unusually tall for an Indian. Though his hair
had grayed, his skin was still smooth and youthful-looking. His
face was round with narrow lips and dark, wide-set eyes that
still had crinkled laugh lines despite his many years of stressful
engagement with the problems of the world. Lal got up from his
desk and walked to the ceiling-to-floor corner windows of his
office where he had a panoramic view of Beijing's high-rise
skyline.
Observing the city Beijing had become, it seemed to him
to represent one of the impressive success stories of history.
Despite its sometimes dark and bloody past, so common to
most nations, China had reached within its collective con-
sciousness to adapt to a world-changing with a rapidity un-
precedented in the annals of the human drama.
Lal remembered reading as a child in India The Good
Earth by Pearl S. Buck, a story about an earlier China before
there was a People's Republic. He remembered the episode she
described where the people of one village, dismayed by a poor
harvest, destroyed the clay image of the god they prayed
to. Undismayed, however, they created a new, freshly modeled
clay god hopefully more efficacious than the prudently dis-
placed god. It was that kind of practical resilience with an al-
most ironic whimsy that Lal admired so much in the Chinese
disposition.
His years as Secretary-General of the late United Nations
were to him, despite the occasional minor victory, years that left
no enduring mark. Those minor yet hard-won victories were
like footprints in the sand, with no permanent impact, washed
away by the next tide of the latest affront. The World Federa-
32


tion, however, had the feel of a sea change. Its goal was to insti-
tutionalize revolution so that enduring change became inscribed
in the new collective consciousness. Easier said than done, he
thought, even in China.
Lal returned to his desk and sat silently for several mo-
ments. He slowly inhaled and then just as slowly exhaled. Rest-
ing each hand on his thighs in the jnana mudra position, palms
up, thumb and forefinger joined, the remaining fingers pointing
towards each other, Lal recited the Wisdom Mantra that daily
brought him peace.
Lead me from death to life,
from falsehood to truth.
Lead me from despair to hope,
from fear to trust.
Lead me from hate to love,
from war to peace.
Let peace fill my heart,
my world, my universe.
Shanti, shanti, shanti.
Lal sat quietly for several minutes, maintaining the jnana
mudra. Despite his effort, he once again could not calm his
mind. He closed his eyes to try a different strategy. Instead of
fighting the turmoil in his mind, he would embrace it. Mentally,
he stepped into the stream and felt the flow, the rush of cur-
rents. He imagined himself to be a leaf floating on the water,
now this way, now that around the obstructing boulders in the
stream and into the roiling and wicked flow over the rapids.
Letting his mind travel the stream, manifest as a leaf until final-
ly, it came to a kind of dynamic rest, caught in an eddy near the
shore where the stream widened. Lal saw in his mind the trap
the leaf was in and wondered if it would escape. As the leaf cir-
33


cled round and round, no longer a traveler in the stream, Lal
wondered if at last the leaf had found its home.
He believed when he accepted the position of President of
the World Federation that change and accomplishment would
come more easily than they did at the UN. Fuel cells were the
answer for moving away from a carbon-based energy economy.
Hydrogen was the environmentally friendly fuel, and laser-in-
duced fusion was the means.
Lal marveled that everything was going according to plan,
yet time had proven to be unfriendly to all their good intentions
for world harmony, political stability, and "uninteresting" times.
Lal smiled when he thought of the old Chinese curse that
threatened, "may your children live in interesting times.” He
thought all he had endured in the last twelve years as head of
The World Federation was nothing but interesting times.
The recent elevation of Zhou Xiang had enjoyed the
alignment of circumstances. Zhou had long been a champion of
environmental issues. The Party elders knew him as a financial
pragmatist. He was a natural choice, a man of compromise, and
someone with whom Lal could work confidently and produc-
tively. Also, the temporary but welcome beneficial effect of the
Mount Tambora eruption, with its sun-shading ash and sulfur
droplets, provided a political respite from the daily apocalyptic
projections of global warming. The early fortunes of Zhou's
elevation seemed tied to Earth's average temperature.
Lal turned back towards his desk, but instead of sitting at
it, he turned one of the leather chairs facing his desk to face the
corner windows instead. He was not ready to give up his view
of Beijing.
After arranging the chair, Lal walked to his desk and
reached into the drawer where he kept his pack of Zhonghua
34


cigarettes. He had long ago given up trying to break himself of
the cigarette habit and found the Chinese brand as satisfying as
the American brands and far more available. The occasional
smoke calmed him more than his daily prayer for wisdom. He
convinced himself that the resulting tranquility offset any re-
sulting chemical harm to his physical health. It was cigarettes or
scotch, he told himself, and scotch made him sleepy. He walked
back to his chair after lighting up, ashtray in hand, and settled
in for some quiet contemplation.
Lal reached over and picked up the intelligence report on
Germany that he commissioned. Germany was an important
member of the World Federation, and Lal was getting con-
cerned about its commitment to the organization. With the col-
lapse of the United Nations, followed quickly by the collapse of
the European Union, The World Federation had provided Ger-
many with a suitable replacement political and commercial
community to join and in some ways dominate.
However, Lal was afraid that there was a competing and
alluring path of influence for Germany that neither General
Slaider nor he anticipated. Paul Latimer, the insurgent former
Vice President of the United States, was leading the opposition
parade, with Germany, he feared, watching cautiously but curi-
ously from the sidelines.
The restrictive agreement that all Federation members
would trade only with other Federation members was not just a
powerful advantage for member nations, it was a powerful tool
to keep members from straying from being lured to side deals
with those entities unable or unwilling to meet the Federation
governance requirements for a franchise. The temptation for
black market trade with non-members, Lal understood, would
be a constant danger. The latest intelligence report suggested,
35


but not yet with convincing evidence that Germany was being
courted by Latimer. And not simply for off-book trading, but
for a change of loyalties. The report suggested that if Germany
went, so would the Baltic countries, all of whom would almost
certainly join with Russia.
To some extent, the report went on, Russia had benefitted
from global warming, giving her longer seasons and an extra
harvest each year. Her people enjoyed agricultural bounty, and
China was a potential customer for its excess food production.
Only the World Federation!s restrictive trade agreement kept
China from purchasing food from nearby Russia. The United
States had long been China!s #grocery store!$ but continued
droughts in America!s northwest, and several central states were
threatening China!s food security. Zhou was not happy with the
trading embargo with non-members of the Federation and had
let Lal know it in their meeting earlier in the day.
Why are things always so complicated? Lal asked himself
for perhaps the thousandth time in his career.
Lal lit a second cigarette. Evening was approaching and
Beijing, the new "city of lights,” was putting aside its daytime
glare as it slowly presented to the emerging night a different,
dazzling brilliance.

Sylvia knocked on Samuel Berman!s door. It had been

closed all morning and Sylvia decided she would wait no

36


longer. When there was no answer she knocked again, harder. A
few more seconds passed before she heard, "Yes, come in.”
Samuel Berman rose from his desk at once as Sylvia en-
tered the room. He offered her his hand and directed her to the
sitting area in a corner of his office. On the low table were
copies of The Atlantic, Forbes, and The Economist. Sylvia once
again noticed their colorful covers and their untouched appear-
ance. She had never once seen Samuel peruse any of them. She
could not help wondering each time she was in his office why
they were there.
"Sylvia, would you like some coffee, or tea perhaps?”
"Samuel, what!s going on?”
Berman!s lips tightened a bit, and he sank back into his
chair. He did not know what to say and just returned Sylvia!s
gaze. After waiting as long as she could for Samuel to respond,
she said, "And so? At least you!re not treating me like a fool and
asking me what I mean. But I will answer it, anyway. I know
when I am being kept out of a loop and that is yours and
Arthur!s prerogative, but I don!t like it. I don!t like feeling un-
trusted or not useful. I also can read the news and know things
external to the company are not going well. So, what!s happen-
ing and why do you believe I can!t help?”
Berman remained silent. After a moment he began tapping
his fingers on his thighs, lost in some internal calculation. Fi-
nally, he said with resolution in his voice, "Well, I need some
tea. I!ve become rather fond of the pu-erh. Are you sure you
won!t have some with me?”
Sylvia saw there was nothing to do but indulge Samuel. If
she wanted an answer, she would have to play this game with

37


him. "All right, yes, thank you.” Samuel used his cell phone to
order tea and serve directly when it was ready. Even so, Sylvia
was not in the mood to play for too long. When Samuel asked
about Jonas while waiting for the tea to arrive, instead of fol-
lowing his lead she complained that she wished her husband
didn!t have to travel so much.
"Why, Sylvia, I thought it would please you, it was not an-
other short notice emergency trip.”
"You remember that I am not only an administrator,”
Sylvia said deliberately. "I am also a scientist. And as a scientist
anything off pattern draws attention. In this climate, no pun in-
tended, off pattern also raises concern. What!s going on in Las
Vegas? The transition to hydrogen, I thought, was going very
well there and sustainable secondary energy sources are nicely
bridging the gap, solar especially.”
"You won!t let an old man have his tea first before the in-
quisition?”
"My dear Mister Berman, we both know you were born
old. No excuses, please.”
They both laughed. "True, true,” Berman said. "Sylvia, I do
apologize for being so secretive, for Arthur also I apologize.
Your temporary exclusion is not a matter of lack of trust or
competence, I assure you. It!s more a case of our trying clearly
to define the challenge before bringing you in. Believe me,
when we do you may regret what you are asking for if you are
asking for inclusion.” After a pause, he added, "But perhaps it is
now time.”
Sylvia leaned forward, giving Berman her absolute atten-
tion when the office door opened and a young Chinese woman

38


entered carrying a tea service on a porcelain platter. "Ah, just in
time,” Berman said. He fussed for a few more moments, serv-
ing Sylvia first and then himself.
He carefully blew on the surface of his tea and cautiously
took a small sip. Sylvia did the same and then shrugged in an
involuntary sign of irritation.
"Okay, let!s get to it,” Berman said, putting down his tea.
"As you know, the World Federation began with laser-fusion.
You have done a brilliant job as Deputy Director of the labora-
tory. But we need your skills elsewhere now. You are a creative
troubleshooter par excellence, my dear. It!s time to turn the role
of sustaining what you have built over to someone who loves
the long slog, a strong manager content with controlling a well-
established organization already having proved itself. I might
add, having established its traditions and procedures and a
record of achievement upon which to build. Do you follow
me?”
"Not yet. Please continue.”
"As expected, there are multiple solution streams flowing
from the climate change problem. One promising stream in-
volves solid-state Maser development. This is where I would
have directed you to place all your energy and effort, if… if you
were to stay as Deputy Director of the Laser Lab. You need not
concern yourself with that project. It is officially out of your
hands as of now. The Federation has an urgent need for your
skills in another crucial project.” Berman took a sip of tea and
smiled. "Isn!t everything a crisis these days, my dear? Well,
anyway, you must be waiting breathlessly for the other shoe to
drop, so to speak. And here it is. It involves your question about

39


James!s travel plans as well.” Berman pointed to Sylvia!s cup of
tea. "It!s getting cold. Please enjoy.”
Sylvia gave a frown of frustration, but took her cup and
sipped the earthy, musky flavored tea. She never acquired a
taste for pu-erh tea. To her it tasted like liquid, mushroom-fla-
vored dirt.
"Samuel, do you really mean to make me crazy?”
"I suppose I do, my dear,” he said. "Because, on second
thought, what you need to be told I believe is above my pay
grade, as they say. In fact, even Arthur would be telling you the
same thing had you knocked on his door instead. Above his pay
grade as well. You need to speak directly with President Lal on
this matter. Why don!t you head toward his office and I will call
him to let him know you are on your way.”
Sylvia realized there was no point in questioning Berman
any longer. "I don!t like this unnecessary intrigue, Samuel,” she
said, getting up to leave. "It wastes my time.” And she left.
As far as Sylvia knew, energy for Las Vegas was not a
problem. Built as it is in the desert, the conditions have been
ideal for solar energy to bridge the energy gap when the power
company decommissions the coal-fired plants and before the
laser-fusion plants could come on line with greater capacity.
The transmission of energy from the source to the user also was
no problem because of the proximity of the city to the solar
farms. According to last reports, Sylvia had read the creation of
the hydrogen infrastructure was going well. She assumed the
long lead-time to James!s trip was because… well, because as
far as she knew that there was no crisis in Las Vegas. But why
go at all? There were many other locations around the world
that were not as rosy. She still didn!t get it. And what was she
40


going to find out from President Lal? She just lost a very influ-
ential and rewarding job. She assumed this was a promotion,
but to what?

***

From the air to James Marshall, Las Vegas had always

seemed an arrogant challenge to reason built as it is in the Great
Basin of the Mohave Desert. Bounded by dry mountains, espe-
cially on the west by the Sierra Nevada and Wasatch mountain
ranges, moist air from the ocean has long lost its moisture rising
up the western slopes of the mountains, dropping their water
load before making it over to the leeward, eastern side of the
mountains. On average, Las Vegas received about four inches
of rain a year. There is no surface water since rain quickly seeps
into the porous and desiccated soil.
James scanned Las Vegas from ten thousand feet as his
plane approached McCarran International Airport. The green
lawns and thirsty New England style landscaping plans van-
ished years ago, outlawed by the Southern Nevada Water Au-
thority, as the water level of Lake Mead steadily dropped. The
Colorado River, by summer over the last few years, dried up
before reaching Lake Mead. Losing mountain snow meant loss
of the snowmelt that fed the Colorado River.
The previous year the level dropped to near the critical
nine hundred feet above sea level, at which point the Hoover
Dam turbines would stop receiving water. James had been to
Las Vegas the year before, monitoring the switch to solar ener-
gy to replace the impending loss of hydroelectric energy. The
solar farm is the largest in the world, funded by a consortium of

41


casino owners, state and federal governments and grants from
The World Federation.
James!s trip was to monitor the conversion of the Mohave
and Reid Gardner generating stations from decommissioned
coal-fired units to new laser-fusion direct current units. The so-
lar farm could supply Las Vegas with a minimum of energy
needed for necessities, but could not support the dazzling casi-
nos that were more or less its financial reason for being. When
the two power stations come on line in the fall, Las Vegas will
be almost back to normal even without the Hoover Dam tur-
bines. James figured this for one of his less stressful visits.
By drilling deeper into the base rock of Lake Mead, a
fourth "spigot” ensured a steady and adequate water supply for
the city. It looked to James Marshall that Las Vegas was a mod-
el for how to manage with laudable success, the response to the
consequences of global warming. Evidently, the local popula-
tion thought so too. The formerly relentless exodus from the
city had stabilized. There was even a recent slight uptick in the
population of the Metropolitan District. There wasn!t a lot of
cheerful news elsewhere about energy and water these days,
James thought, and Las Vegas gave him a welcome warm fuzzy
feeling.
It was late morning when James!s plane touched down. He
was retrieving his luggage only a half hour later. Even though
tired and jet-lagged from the lengthy flight from Beijing, James
drove immediately to the Mohave station so he could get a
sense of accomplishing something before he went to sleep. He
called ahead to let Jim Banes, the project manager at the site,
know he was coming. After another half hour to rent a car, he
was on his way.

42


James quickly regretted his decision to meet at the job site
the same day he arrived in Vegas. He underestimated his jet-lag
and the Nevada sun. Also, he had left his sunglasses in his lug-
gage. The glare of the desert sand was exhausting, and he wor-
ried that he would have trouble keeping his eyes open. He
thought of Sylvia and Jonas and kicked himself for what now
seemed like a dumb decision to drive immediately to meet with
Banes.
He finally thought it best to pull onto the shoulder to take a
short nap. Not a lot of time went by before a Nevada State
Trooper woke him up, tapping with his nightstick on the dri-
ver!s side window. James tried to gather his wits as he rolled his
window down.
"Do you need any help, sir?” the officer asked.
Blinking his eyes to clear his head, he looked blankly at
the trooper for a moment. Then he smiled and said he was fine,
just catching some winks to get past his jet lag.
"Where are you heading?” the trooper asked.
"Laughlin, to the Mohave power station. I!m a consultant
for the conversion project going on there,” James said. "I appre-
ciate your stopping to check on me, officer, but I#m okay. Actu-
ally, I!m glad you did or I might have slept right through my
meeting. But I!m okay now. I think the nap and the coffee at the
airport have kicked in.”
"All right, sir, but just be careful… where you drive and
where you stop. It!s a very quiet road and you don!t want to take
chances.”
"Right you are, officer. It!s not that long a ride. I!ll be fine.
Thanks again. Can I be on my way?”

43


"Yes, sir. Have a safe trip.” The trooper backed away,
putting his sunglasses on as he did.
Well, that woke me up, James thought, resuming his drive
to Mohave Station another hour down the highway.
Even from a distance, the plant was impressive. Before
decommissioning, the two generating units at the site could
produce almost eight hundred megawatts each, giving the plant
the extraordinary output of approximately sixteen hundred
megawatts at full capacity. James marveled how, despite the
enormous investment costs sunk in the plant, the evils of coal
and the uncertain availability of cooling water had shut this be-
hemoth down. Southern California Edison elected not to go to
the expense of upgrading to meet the pollution control require-
ments for a coal furnace, especially since the water needed to
operate and cool the plant was not a sure thing anymore. After
some initial dismantling, the owner company decided just to
abandon it.
James drove to the project manager!s trailer where Jim
Banes was waiting for him. Thank god the trailer was air-condi-
tioned, James thought. He spent the rest of the afternoon and
early evening reviewing the progress of the conversion. When
he was ready to leave that evening he was confident they would
meet the September commissioning date and that the laser-fu-
sion conversion would put this site to good use. After a last cup
of coffee, James drove to his hotel in Las Vegas and went to
sleep.
The next day, his visit to Reid Gardner station was more or
less a repeat of his trip to Mohave station. No unusual delays or
setbacks. The project manager at Reid Gardner station, Harold
Haskie, was new. He stood a little over six feet, dressed in com-

44


fortable construction site attire, and wore the obligatory orange
hard hat. He was Navajo and had the dark complexion of that
race. His ears lay flat against his head. He had a round face with
pronounced cheekbones and a long, sloping nose. His eyes were
wide set, but narrow and piercing, and he wore metal frame
glasses that James noticed tinted automatically in the sun. He
was about fifty, James guessed, although he typically found it
difficult to judge the age of non-Caucasians.
Harold Haskie, just like Jim Banes at the Mohave station,
had things under control and expected to meet the September
commissioning date. At a former generating capacity of 560
megawatts, Reid Gardner wasn!t in the same class as the giant
Mohave station, but had still been important to the power pic-
ture for Las Vegas. The conversion to a laser-fusion system
would put to good use this retired plant as well.
Their work completed, it was time for James to leave.
Haskie asked him if he could walk with him to his car. James
was a little surprised. Usually project managers are too busy to
extend such departing courtesies to visitors. The dry gravel
crunched in the late afternoon sun as they walked to the parking
lot. There would be no tar paving of the parking lot, no elabo-
rate landscaping with large, water hungry green leaf plantings
and no sprinklers, only a simple drip watering system for the
few specimen bushes scattered near the entrance to the plant.
All the bushes were native to the area.
"I want you to know how much the Federation appreciates
the work you!re doing here, Harold. Staying on schedule is vi-
tal.”
Haskie remained silent. At James!s car, they shook hands,
but Haskie did not let go. When the time for letting go was long

45


past, James used his left hand to release the grip. "Is something
wrong, Harold?”
Haskie backed away slightly and placed his hands in his
pockets. He looked directly into James!s eyes, but remained
silent. James waited for Haskie to decide what he would say.
Haskie turned away finally, scanning the surrounding looming
mountains on one side and the dried out field dotted with sage-
brush skeletons on the other.
"Harold?”
Haskie decided and looking directly at James said, "The
water is radioactive.”
This completely out of context statement took James by
surprise, so he said nothing, waiting for Haskie to elaborate.
James knew about uranium contamination of some aquifers,
especially in the West and Midwest United States. After a mo-
ment of reflection he asked Haskie, "Is this something of signif-
icant concern?”
"Normally, not really. We can easily remove uranium from
water, even though the filters are a bit costly. But this is differ-
ent. More dangerous and not filterable.”
"Where is it coming from?” James asked.
"Yucca Flat. It should have taken about a thousand years or
more for groundwater to reach outside the Yucca Flat nuclear
test range, but it!s showing up now, here. The level of radioac-
tivity is steadily rising.”
"How do you know all this?” James asked.
"I know.” Haskie paused. He wasn!t ready to reveal his
source. "It!s in the deep water aquifer, the fourth pipe, but it!s
not detectable at the taps yet. I thought you ought to know.”

46


"Does the Water Authority know about this?” James was
thinking non-local.
"Yes. They just haven!t made any announcements. I think
there!s a secret plan to install uranium-trapping filters. From
what I hear, some administrators at the Authority are even call-
ing this good fortune as they envision selling whatever uranium
they can trap from the water. Only…”
Haskie folded his arms and looked at the ground.
"Only what? Come on, Harold. Out with it.”
"Only it!s not the usual uranium contamination. I don!t
know what those guys are thinking, or maybe I!m just not get-
ting the story straight. The problem isn!t uranium. It!s the ra-
dioactive material created by over nine hundred nuclear detona-
tions at the test range. Yucca Flat is probably the most radioac-
tive place on Earth. The above-ground tests were bad enough,
but the underground tests, those are the ones that left massive
caverns filled with just a hodgepodge of radioactive material,
strontium and cesium being the worst. It!s impossible to clean,
so uranium is the least of the problem.”
"A thousand years, you said. And we!re getting it now?
What!s speeding up the flow, do you think?”
"Mr. Marshall, it!s what you get when you build a city in
the desert. Las Vegas is more or less draining every source of
water, surface water, groundwater, everything. And by sucking
it all dry, they are pulling the aquifer flow from the test range
towards Las Vegas faster and faster. I used to work for OSHA
and spent a lot of time at Yucca Flat. I always believed the con-
tamination from the tests would never be a problem. But the
injection wells using Colorado River water to replenish the

47


aquifers supplying Las Vegas don!t work anymore. With global
warming, there!s just not enough winter snow to keep the Col-
orado going past mid-summer. By then the river!s more or less
gone dry, so the aquifers are getting depleted. The depleted
aquifers act like a vacuum pump pulling contaminated water
from the Flat toward Las Vegas. It!s really a disaster no matter
how you look at it, Mr. Marshall.”
"Harold, what do you mean #a disaster?!$ Have the levels
reached a health threat?” James asked.
"I think it was a year ago when they first noticed the spike
in radioactivity, from what I can tell, at least.”
"Jesus. This would be pretty hard to hide.”
"Well, I only found out about this ten days ago. I!m just
telling you what I heard and from a reliable source. No one, and
I mean no one, discusses this for the record. There are almost
seven hundred thousand
people in Las Vegas, and we!re talking about potentially aban-
doning the city. There just is no other source of water that hasn!t
already been tapped out or that won!t become contaminated.”
"What about the plant?” James asked. The whole point for
building the new plants at Mohave and Reid Gardner stations,
James knew, was to provide an alternative long term, high ca-
pacity energy sources for Las Vegas. If Las Vegas was not a go-
ing proposition, there was no need for the two laser-fusion sta-
tions about to go online in September. What Harold Haskie was
telling him would represent a huge financial loss to the Federa-
tion, to the other investors, and to the United States government
as well. James was stunned.

48


Harold Haskie shuffled his feet, head down, and did not
answer James!s question.
"What about the plant, Harold?” James repeated.
"Mr. Marshall, I guess the answer to that question is for the
guys that get the big bucks.” A brief smile crossed Haskie!s face
but quickly disappeared, replaced by a blank stare toward Las
Vegas.

49

Paul Latimer hated The World Federation. He hated Ranjit

Lal. He hated the memory of a murderous General Slaider. He
hated the usurpations of the United States and The People!s Re-
public of China. He hated the whole sanctimonious pretense
behind the Federation. And he hated the Deep Labyrinth, the
invisible powers, including the World Federation, which ran the
world clandestinely, without accountability to elected bodies
outside the ruling faction.
Twelve years ago he barely escaped with his life when
Slaider secretly masterminded the bloody coup that created the
new, rosy, superficial worldview, but left everything in the
labyrinth of deep power the same. Only the names and faces
had changed. Latimer hated the secret cabal that created The
World Federation, which like a phoenix arose from the strategic
ashes of its own creation.
Latimer lived his own clandestine existence for five years
while he struggled, adapting to his new, renegade reality.
While he served as Vice President, he knew there were
forces at play that he was not privy to. He accepted as one of
the political realities that he held an essentially powerless posi-
tion with only one function, to be there if the President ever
died or became incapable of performing his duties. When that
moment arrived, even then he was not destined to fulfill his
constitutional role. General Slaider had seen to that. Seven
years ago he put his anger aside, not away, just aside. He roused
himself to a new life, a new awareness, and a new mission. He
would bring down The World Federation.

50


Latimer had time now to prepare himself carefully for his
evening meeting at the Café Bruges. He had arrived in Algiers
only the previous day. He didn!t like to stay in one spot too
long.
Standing in his hotel room, Paul Latimer assessed himself
in the simple oval mirror mounted above the cheap chest of
drawers. For a man now in his early sixties, it pleased him how
trim his body was. Sixty-three had always seemed so old to
him. Now it was just a new stage of life. Not elderly exactly,
but if he were still in politics, an elder.
He was now about six feet one inch, a loss of a full inch.
The accumulating impact of advancing age, he thought. He had
lost five years living in the shadows after the coup that was
never acknowledged as a coup. When he sought refuge in Eu-
rope, he hid in Germany for a few months with friends of Air
Force General Stoner, himself a victim of General Slaider!s
plan. His German protectors were American spies embedded in
a community near Frankfurt.
Latimer grew a beard and let his hair grow longer then,
transforming his appearance. Even though he could not change
his height, in Germany a tall man was not unusual. So he
blended, but only for a while. He could not impose on his hosts
indefinitely. Their inescapable divided loyalty between keeping
faith with their friend, Stoner, and keeping faith with the new
US government for whom they worked and also owed loyalty
created an unbearable tension and risk. He had overstayed his
welcome. He would avoid the "community” contacts and move
on his own to the Czech Republic. Money was not an issue.
Stoner had arranged for him to have five hundred thousand US
dollars waiting for him when he arrived in Germany.

51


He fully understood how easily traceable were the false
papers provided to him by General Stoner!s contacts. Latimer
elected to chance moving without papers. In the US, there was a
time when virtually no one carried identity papers. However,
with the advent of worldwide terrorism at the beginning of the
century, identity papers had become a part of what you took
with you when you dressed, like your wallet and your keys.
Latimer knew well now when and where he might reason-
ably have to present his papers. They were mostly predictable
situations, and he learned to avoid them. The random stop was
one circumstance he could not protect against and would have
to trust to luck and to stay under the radar. One thing in his fa-
vor was the large number of immigrants, legal and illegal, from
the Middle East who took a higher priority for random stops
than a well-dressed, obvious westerner. He also trimmed his full
beard to a neat goatee and a thin mustache. Very European. The
hardest of all was the loss of his wife and son. His family be-
came tormenting memories for him. For them, he was presumed
dead and labeled a traitor.
Now in Algiers, looking in the mirror, Latimer was happy
with his still tight and muscular build. He could handle himself
if the need arose, and it had. His lengthy journey from America
to Algiers was not without testing his patience, resolve, and
willingness to defend himself when necessary. But even these
occasional incidents did not raise his profile above the herd be-
cause he lived within the herd of faceless, voiceless, inconse-
quential people, invisible in plain sight. Twice he had brief en-
counters with agents of the World Federation. However, he be-
lieved they were random, and that they did not recognize him.
Yet he knew that he represented a loose end to the Federation, a

52


witness to their real treason. Immediately following his escape
from America, his days seemed to him numbered, the forces
arrayed against him being so powerful and so widespread.
Paul Latimer discovered qualities about himself—survival
skills—he never knew he had. This had surprised him, but also
pained him that he found himself in a world where such skills
were necessary. His new life was a far cry from being Vice
President of the United States.
The Café Bruges was between the Casbah and the Gare
d!Alger train station. It was an easy walk from Latimer!s nonde-
script hotel, chosen for its lack of diligence regarding official
papers and documents. He would not be at the hotel long
enough to create a risk. The bigger risk was the walk to the
café, even dressed as he was in simple native clothing. The
draped keffiyeh covered his face, and his unkempt appearance
and large stature made him an unlikely and perhaps risky target
for thieves or even assassins. There were easier fish to catch
than he.
Latimer quickly scanned the café from a doorway across
the narrow street. There appeared to be nothing that might
arouse concern, so Latimer silently moved to one of the little
outside tables, ordered an espresso and waited for his contact to
arrive. There were no other patrons using the two remaining
outside tables and only two groups of two men each occupying
inside tables. Outside was better for a private conversation.
Latimer nearly finished with his espresso when Grigory
Alexeivich Zukanov arrived. Latimer rose and greeted him
warmly. Zukanov wore in a simple male abaya. He sat across
from Latimer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He offered
one to Latimer. Latimer accepted, and they both lit up, smoking

53


when the waiter arrived. Latimer ordered espressos for both of
them. They waited silently, smoking their cigarettes until the
waiter returned with their drinks.
"I can get you in,” Zukanov said, in a deeply Russian-ac-
cented English. It was good enough, however, for Latimer to
understand and smile. It was not a place Zukanov was speaking
of, but a condition of trust.
Latimer tapped the table with his knuckles in recognition,
and satisfaction of a mission accomplished. "Excellent. When
do we leave?”
"Tonight,” was his succinct reply. Zukanov was not as tall
as Paul Latimer, but he still commanded a sense of authority
when he spoke. He had surprising eyes that captured one!s at-
tention. They were strikingly blue and piercingly direct. They
inspired confidence as one who understood urgency.
"In one hour,” Zukanov continued. "A car will meet you in
front of your hotel. I will be in the car next to the driver and we
will leave straight away as soon as we pick you up. Leave noth-
ing behind.” He watched Latimer!s reaction closely. "Any ques-
tions?” he asked.
"No,” Latimer said.
"Good. This has been an excellent place to begin our jour-
ney. You have left essentially no footprint here. It is a journey
from nowhere by no one. Exactly as we need it to be. We will
first travel to Tripoli, then Cairo, then Ankara, and finally to
Novosibirsk. It is there our work will truly begin.”
***
Smiling professionally, Ranjit Lal!s secretary, Gladys, told
Sylvia he had to attend briefly to an urgent matter, but that she
could wait for him in his office. She offered Sylvia tea or coffee
54


while she waited, but Sylvia declined. She was not sure she
could keep anything down.
She waited patiently for Lal to return, feeling that her life
suddenly had become a complete mystery, her past twelve years
working for the Federation suddenly upended, leaving her with
no sense of the next step in her career trajectory. She acutely
knew of the randomness of life, that plans are a vain affectation
and that forces beyond her control or approval could always
rewrite her life script. She knew she had done well and validat-
ed by her achievements, but suddenly that solid perch had van-
ished and she was like a cartoon character suspended in mid-air
but not falling because she had not yet looked down.
As the waiting continued, Sylvia calmed her speculations.
There was no point in trying to anticipate what Lal!s plans
would be for her. She!ll know when she knows, and that!s all
there is to it, she decided.
Finally, Lal entered the room, moving swiftly to his desk
without acknowledging her presence, evidently lost in thought.
After settling himself at his desk, Lal looked up, his eyes point-
ed towards Sylvia, but his focus seemed to be at an object far
behind her. Sylvia shifted in her chair and that brought Lal back
to the moment.
"Yes, okay. Good afternoon, Sylvia. Sorry about keeping
you waiting. Did Gladys offer you anything?”
"She did, sir, but I was good. Still am.”
"Okay. I understand James is in Las Vegas. Probably one of
his less depressing destinations. Just checking up on schedules,
you see.”
Lal paused, but since Sylvia did not know what to say, she
remained silent with a vague smile on her face.
55


"Well, I!m glad Samuel called me. The time has come for
us to have this conversation. I know you have felt neglected
recently, but do not worry, dear Sylvia.” Lal smiled at Sylvia.
"Except that I!m also out of a job,” Sylvia said.
"Only temporarily, I assure you.” Lal folded his hands and
placed them on his desk in front of him. He leaned forward,
staring at her now.
"I think it will be easier to start with the end,” he said. "I
want you to take a leadership role in a highly confidential
project, a secret project reporting only to me.” He watched for
any reaction by Sylvia, but she remained silent.
"The work you will take part in, if implemented, will be
perhaps the most important work ever performed by human
agency or if it does not launch may end up being a colossal
waste of time and money. So, those are the boundaries. The task
I will describe in a moment. But I can say with confidence,
whether or not we use the plan this group develops, it will con-
sume you. The fate of humanity may, I say may, rest in your
hands and those of the others in this group so there will be no
vacations, no distractions, no excuses.” Again, Lal paused.
"And we must develop your work in complete secrecy.”
"Mr. President, with all due respect, this sounds pretty
scary. What are we talking about, sir?” Sylvia asked, becoming
unnerved.
"Quite,” Lal said, acknowledging her anxious attention.
"You know, of course, twelve years ago your work to develop
the laser-induced fusion technology was to secure a sustainable
energy path for the future in a way that broke the dependence
on fossil fuels. Now we need not only a sustainable source of
energy, but a life-sustaining environment. You know all this.
56


What you may not know is that we are losing the battle for that
second goal. We have a firm plan for reducing carbon emis-
sions, but not the schedule. In the early 20s, a maximum one
degree centigrade increase in the average temperature of Earth
was the political target. Tragically, we have already lost the #one
and a half degree!$war. We are now losing the #two degree!$war,
the consequences of which we are now experiencing. When the
average temperature of Earth reaches two degrees above the
1951-1980 base period, we will already slide into the #three de-
gree!$war and the beginning of the doomsday scenarios so thor-
oughly described by scientists for decades.”
Lal stopped speaking and stared blankly at his desktop. His
words seemed to drain his energy. Sylvia sat quietly, waiting.
Finally, Lal gave his head a brief shake, as if clearing an obsta-
cle from his mind that was preventing him from proceeding.
"I use the word #war,!$ as in #three degree war!$ advisedly,
because if we don!t think of our efforts to stop the rising tem-
perature of Earth with a warlike mentality we will lose perhaps
our only remaining opportunity to save our planet for life as we
know it. In a war, winning takes priority over everything else.
You don!t hold back. You do whatever you have to do to win,
and we are at war with the forces that drive the rising tempera-
ture. We know who the enemy is. It is fossil fuels. In the begin-
ning, the high energy density of fossil fuels was a blessing that
supported the industrial revolution. Now, it has become a curse
that may kill us all.
"Harvests are failing and the specter of widespread famine,
eradicated for more than a hundred and fifty years, is return-
ing—in China, India, South America, Southeast Asia, Australia.
It!s not a pretty picture, Sylvia and drinking water is becoming
57


problematic in all regions of the world depending on mountain
glacial melt. Wells and aquifers, too, are failing. The prospects
for survival for billions, yes, with a #b,!$are becoming dire.”
Lal picked up the pen on his desk and began gently tapping
it on the report lying there before him.
"The conversion to a hydrogen energy economy is moving
apace. You have seen to that brilliantly, Sylvia. Brilliantly, that
is, within the constraints of what is politically possible. Scien-
tists knew and repeatedly warned that Earth!s climate is like a
massive, lumbering ocean liner with only a forward gear, not
like a little speedboat. People just could not seem to understand
that what was being done to Earth!s environment was not re-
versible and not even possible to slow down.
"The consequences of the greenhouse gases already in the
atmosphere to some extent we feel immediately, but we may
not feel the full consequences for decades. As a result, a blun-
dering humanity keeps adding to the load of greenhouse gases
put into the environment every single day, twenty-four/seven.”
Lal observed Sylvia fidgeting in her seat and realized he
was taking too long getting to the point.
“Sylvia, the Federation believes we are heading for a tip-
ping point the other side of which is catastrophic environmental
collapse. The focus of attention for decades has been the accel-
erated melting of the Greenland icepack. Troubling as that is, it
is not as serious as the melting of Earth!s permafrost layer. This
has the potential for the release of a really terrifying amount of
carbon dioxide and methane into the atmosphere, an amount
that could easily double the amount already there. We cannot,
we must not let that happen.”

58


Sylvia knew that the conversion to hydrogen was not hap-
pening fast enough. All she had to do was look around or follow
the news. The flooding of coastal cities. Sea level rise. Altered
weather patterns. The disappearance of year round Arctic Ocean
ice. She knew it all, but believed other people were working on
intervention plans. She knew she did not see the complete pic-
ture of what they would attempt. She always assumed there
would be some kind of massive expansion in the deployment of
alternative energy sources, wind and solar as a bridge until the
hydrogen energy economy was fully in place.
"How can I help, Mr. President? And why the secrecy, es-
pecially when I believe worldwide collaboration on all solution
scenarios is the best strategy?”
"I will get to that. I promise. But before I do, I don!t want
us wasting time elaborating the obvious. We can do with less,
change our eating habits, speed up the conversion to stop-gap
wind, solar, geothermal, tidal and whatever other source of en-
ergy is in the sustainable alternative energy mix until we com-
plete the infrastructure for hydrogen. We can seriously reduce
energy use with conservation and triage, eliminating what ener-
gy use is not essential. This is all possible and on a short time-
line. But it won!t be enough even if there was the political con-
sensus to proceed on a massive enough scale to make a differ-
ence, which there isn!t. We!re sure of that now, but we can ex-
plain the blockage with a too long and pointless tale of greed
and corruption. We must stop the rising temperature of Earth,
even without a consensus.” Lal allowed Sylvia to process his so
far incomplete message. He waited for a comment.
"Well, as you know,” Sylvia began, "My focus has been on
getting the conversion program moving as quickly as possible,
59


but I haven!t been unaware that things seem to be slipping out
of control, especially with James traveling the world as he does,
getting a firsthand view, and he shares his observations and im-
pressions with me. Frankly, I!ve tried not to dwell too much on
what I know and what I suspect. I mostly work on the tasks as-
signed to me. Where do I fit into this new project?”
"Ah, now the tricky part begins. Do you know how a
young woman such as yourself, with no political network with
no obvious powerful mentor rose so quickly to the position of
Deputy Director in the department that, let!s be frank, was the
parent to the World Federation?”
Settling back in her chair, Sylvia answered, "I have a feel-
ing you!ll tell me.”
"It was because of General Slaider. He was most impressed
with you at the one meeting that counted for him. It was the
meetings when you agreed to take the management reins of
AJC Fusion, to bring the team back together and to complete
the work you all had started so brilliantly and to complete and
perfect the laser-fusion technology. He spoke with me about
you at great length. What he saw, he told me, was not just an
excellent manager who could inspire the trust and respect of her
colleagues and subordinates. He saw something bigger, a latent
quality. It was the ability to see the big picture. Yes, I know that
what one means by the big picture depends on what pond you!re
swimming in. In your pond, you saw it all. You had, he said, the
rare and valuable talent for attention to detail without getting
lost in the detail. He said he trusted you never to lose sight of
the end goal and that everything you did was ultimately to
achieve that goal. The key word here, Sylvia, is trust.” Lal
stopped and watched for a reaction.
60


"I hope that over the years I justified his trust.”
"Indeed, that is why we!re having this discussion. But for
the assignment I am proposing to you, trust is not enough. I
need to know how committed you are to an end goal.” He
paused. Sylvia made no comment and Lal continued.
"You remember the chaos, the loss of life and property, the
destruction of many cherished institutions that preceded the
founding of the World Federation. Thinking back on that, I say,
do you believe it was worth it? The president dead, thousands
killed, martial law, all of it. Was it really worth all that?” Lal
watched Sylvia closely.
Sylvia did not know what to say. Like so many others, the
flow of events caught her following the current, not really
weighing #should!$and #should not.!$It all just happened.
"I don!t know,” she said. "Honestly, I haven!t given it much
thought. It all seemed so right at the time. More often than not,
I think one gets captured by the flow of events.”
"Yes, in a way it is so much easier to go with the flow. But
if you had to allow the events that led to The World Federation,
if you had to make the decisions that were the root cause of all
the chaos and death, despite the good, looking back would you
have been able to say: Yes, go ahead?”
"Mr. President, this is highly speculative. It would be easy
now to say yes to something already done. If I did not know
beforehand how things would turn out—I don!t know. It de-
pends.” Sylvia smiled and added, "Probably not the answer
you!re looking for.”
"On the contrary. It!s what I expected from an honest per-
son of integrity. But let!s go deeper. What would it take for you

61


to say #I know!$ rather than #I don!t know?!$ What is missing in
your calculation?”
Sylvia thought for a moment. "A great reason that I be-
lieved in strongly,” she said.
"I see. And how far will that conviction let you go?”
Sylvia looked puzzled. "I don!t understand. What do you
mean by how far?”
"I think you know what I mean. How far will your convic-
tion to a goal take you? Would there be a line, despite your
conviction, across which you would not permit yourself to go?
If so, how do you know where that line lies? Or is there no line
if you feel strongly enough about it?”
Sylvia stared at Lal with no expression, wanting to under-
stand where he was going with all this. Still, she didn!t know
what to say.
"Suppose,” Lal continued, "your son got himself into a
troublesome situation at school, for example. He cut school to
avoid a test, let!s say. And there were strong reasons for him to
cut school to avoid the test. But it was a high-stakes test, and
through no fault of his own he couldn!t study and prepare for
the test. Would you lie for him, make up an excuse so he could
take the test later?”
"No, of course not.”
"Why not?” Lal asked.
"It would be wrong and not fair to the other students who
did prepare.”
"So you have a line and you base it on your conception of
right and wrong. Yes?”

62


"Yes, pretty much.” Sylvia knew there would be another
shoe to drop.
"Now suppose,” Lal continued, "your son was in grave
danger and to protect or save him you had seriously to harm
someone else, some innocent person. Would you do it?”
"Harm how seriously?”
"Gravely serious.”
Logical arguments swirled in her head, first for one deci-
sion, then for another. Finally she said, "Yes. Yes, I would.”
"Would it be the right thing to do? Your test for where you
set your line was doing the right thing, remember.”
"No, it wouldn!t be right, but I would do it, anyway. It!s my
son and I would do anything to keep him safe.”
"Your commitment to your son would be that strong?”
"Yes, it is that strong.”
"Ah, good.” Lal leaned back in his chair. "So your com-
mitment to right and wrong is not as strong as your commit-
ment to your son, your commitment to a stronger filter than
right and wrong. Whether it be love or loyalty or something
else that guides you when nothing else will, you acknowledge
that what we think of as #right!$may not always be the ultimate
arbiter. Yes?”
"Yes, I suppose that!s true.” Sylvia acknowledged.
Lal rose from his chair and gestured to Sylvia to change
her seat. "Let!s sit over here,” he said, moving to the coffee ta-
ble. "I think it will be more comfortable.” He waited for Sylvia
to sit, and then he sat as well and continued.
"Sylvia, here is where we, I mean we the world, find our-
selves. We are slowly, relentlessly moving toward that cliff of
63


the three degree rise in the average temperature of Earth. This
would be the beginning of a self-sustaining slide into a dooms-
day scenario. And in that case, not millions, but billions of lives
will be at stake. The conditions of life on Earth if we go over
the edge will make the plagues of Egypt seem like child!s play.
Most loss of life will result from famine, thirst, flooding, heat
and fire. It will be like nothing ever experienced by man. The
world population would probably drop to something like two
billion from its current nine billion. Can you imagine seven bil-
lion global-warming-related deaths? We cannot let humanity
suffer such losses.”
Lal reached into a drawer in his desk and pulled out a pack
of cigarettes. He offered one to Sylvia, but she declined. After a
few drags, Lal continued.
"We need a a fresh plan, unconstrained by political, finan-
cial or factional appeasement. And if need be, the plan must in-
clude the contingency for its forceful implementation.”
Sylvia!s thoughts were swirling with never imagined com-
plexities. "Mr. President, you are leaving me quite breathless,”
she said. "Do you already have a plan in mind?”
"Yes. I have a skeleton of a plan. The project I wish you to
join will supply the flesh. The only imperative for the plan must
be that it can be implemented almost immediately after decid-
ing to launch. Also, it must have an immediate impact. Every-
thing else is for the project members to work out.”
"Where do I fit in to this project?” Sylvia asked.
Lal sighed and sat back in his chair. "I want you to be a
part of the program,” Lal continued, "but I cannot commit to
you unless you completely commit to me. Right and wrong can
no longer have meaning for you. Just as you say you will do
64


anything to protect your son, I need the same level of commit-
ment from you to protect human life on Earth. What I have to
share is highly confidential and I cannot share it with you un-
less I can trust you and count on you.” Lal paused, needing a
response.
"So far, sir, it!s a bit of a blank check you!re asking me to
sign. I don!t know what I am committing to, and you can!t tell
me until I do. Interesting dilemma.”
"And yet we must find a way. Let me put it bluntly to you
then. You said that there are situations where you would sus-
pend your filter of right and wrong, where a higher filter, shall
we say, reigns supreme. I ask you now, does saving humanity
from the prospect of billions of global warming related deaths
enter that realm of higher level decision making?”
"You mean, do I believe the end justifies the means?”
"Exactly,” Lal said with a smile, appreciating her well-
known ability to cut through the smoke and misdirections, to
get to the chase, as they say.
Sylvia answered without hesitation. "Yes, the end justifies
the means to me, at least in this case of global warming. I keep
envisioning an Earth that looks like a wasteland, a desiccated
planet, once beautiful and teeming with life, perhaps like Mars
once was, reduced, like Mars, to just another rock whirling in
the universe. I have such dreams, nightmares really. And I see
the terrifying images, looking down on a lifeless Earth and
wondering, what were they thinking?” Sylvia lost her eye con-
tact with Lal, and her mind drifted to the future world she just
described. She took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.

65


"My son will inherit the Earth we leave him. It will either
nurture him or kill him. I will do whatever it takes to see that it
nurtures him. Does that answer your question?”
"Quite.” Lal sighed. "This part, the recruiting is always so
difficult and some positions, like this one, only I can fill. But
here we are. Mission accomplished, as the American military is
fond of saying. And à propos of a wonderful tradition, let!s
drink to that before we move on to answer your questions.
"I understand you favor a good cabernet from the Helan
mountain region. I believe I can do even better with a good
French vintage. We have earned a small celebration.” Lal pulled
his phone from his pocket and messaged his secretary, Gladys,
to bring a bottle of the wine he described to her and two glass-
es.
Lal and Sylvia waited silently until Gladys entered with
the wine and glasses. The windows in Lal!s office were solid
with the black of night, sprinkled by the glowing patterns of
bright dots of light from nearby buildings and from the snaking
traffic many stories below. Mostly, however, the darkness out-
side produced only reflected images of the room within. Sylvia
waited patiently as Lal opened the bottle and poured two glass-
es.
After clicking wine glasses and taking a sip of the caber-
net, Sylvia said, "I assume this project is some kind of #hail
Mary!$solution that may not get universal approval.”
“Precisely,” was all Lal said.
"Do we know what that solution is or do we have yet to
find it first?” Sylvia asked.

66


"That is a very appropriate question. Let!s start first with
the obvious. You know, of course, what geoengineering is.” Lal
asked.
"Yes. It calls for cooling Earth by seeding the stratosphere
with particles capable of reflecting a portion of the sun!s energy
back into space, much like what happens after a large volcanic
eruption. But I thought it was off the table as a solution.” Sylvia
paused, looking for some confirmation from Lal, but he re-
mained silent.
"Well,” Sylvia continued, "spraying particulates into the air
will certainly reduce the average temperature of Earth, but it!s
also considered too risky even as a last ditch global solution.
Weather patterns can change, going from bad to worse, and
even if it will temporarily bring Earth!s temperature down, it
then becomes the permanent task for humans to continue seed-
ing the atmosphere, managing the atmosphere forever.” Sylvia
tried to remember where she had read about the case against
bioengineering.
She continued, realizing Lal was studying her closely.
"Besides,” she said, "if we don!t stop burning fossil fuels
almost immediately, even with geoengineering, the oceans will
continue to acidify because they will continue to absorb the
carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, turning the oceans basical-
ly into a dilute vinegar and killing off a significant source of
food for a majority of the people on the planet.”
"Bravo! You don!t disappoint, Sylvia,” Lal said with a wry
grin. "I mention geoengineering precisely because it is all that
you say… and less. We discuss geoengineering a lot in the liter-
ature, but no one is seriously proposing any of the many strate-
gies for blocking the sun!s energy. It!s just too dangerously
67


complex. Too fraught with unknowns. Too unpredictable. No,
never.” Lal paused, struggling with himself to get the words
out.
"It is a false solution that leaves people with the mistaken
belief that even if things get really out of control, this solution
is still available to us. It is the perceived #hail Mary!$ pass, as
you say, that we can always turn to. It is not any kind of solu-
tion for the reasons you enumerated.
“So, to get back to your question, we do have a solution,
but it is not this. Our solution, really the only solution, is the
complete, worldwide and immediate cessation of fossil fuel ex-
traction of any kind.”
Lal leaned back in his chair. "That is easier said than done
and what I mean by an immediate implementation requires
careful strategizing.”
Sylvia sat, stunned speechless.
"Yes, I know. This is about a five hundred trillion dollar
industry, but money won!t mean much to anyone if we are all
dead. Or most of us. Nor will we profitably argue over no
longer relevant economic ideologies or theories. It has become
an argument bereft of significance.
"We are not moving fast enough with the hydrogen conver-
sion. It!s just a fact we have to accept. I mean no criticism of
your efforts by this statement. We simply must accept the facts
and act. This project will create a huge disruption to the world
economy, a disruption we hoped to stretch out over several
decades, but that is no longer an option. We must expect, at
least temporarily, a complete, worldwide breakdown of com-
merce, so every aspect of this move must be carefully planned

68


and executed. And that is why secrecy is of the utmost impor-
tance.”
"With all due respect, Mr. President,” Sylvia said, "that!s
not possible. The fossil fuel stakeholders will not stand for a
complete and immediate cessation of extraction. We!re talking
about money interests that can fund their own private army to
resist such a move. And we are not just talking about the busi-
nesses that depend on extraction. There are the extractors, the
processors, transportation, the byproducts industries, you name
it. The fossil fuel industry and the industries tied to it probably
account for a quarter of the entire world!s economy. Yes, even-
tually the fossil fuel interests were going to lose a lot of their
future earnings, but the schedule was such as to give them time
to move into other opportunities, sustainable energy sources,
for example, and also become part of the economy of the hy-
drogen infrastructure. But this… it!s not possible. For one thing,
it would produce the greatest economic collapse in the history
of humanity. No one will know where to turn or what to do.”
"And yet,” Lal said, responding to her challenge, "Humani-
ty will be asked to do the impossible. This project is not nego-
tiable. The consequences of not taking this step are becoming
more and more abundantly clear and time is not friendly to us.
If we wait until this step becomes the obvious action that must
be taken, the forces that will align against us will have prepared
a course of resistance that will make success infinitely more
difficult and expensive.” Lal paused for a moment before con-
tinuing, as if he would speak the next words only reluctantly.
"The bottom line about the world economy is that the capi-
talist economic model as we know it will be dead forever. Con-
sumerism is no longer sustainable, anyway. It is the harsh reali-
69


ty, but there will be nothing we can do about it. The World Fed-
eration will have to lead the transition to a new, sustainable
economic model, a model we have yet to envision, but we are
working on it.”
"Jesus Christ! This is like the end of the world, no matter
what happens.”
"It is, indeed. There is no happy ending. What we will do is
try to produce the least bad ending. An impressive amount of
disruption is assured by what we have already put into the air
and the oceans. Remember, our environment, this ocean liner, is
still moving forward. Even if we kill the engine, it will still con-
tinue on for some time by its own momentum. But we must kill
the engine and fossil fuels are that engine.”
"I see. And this is the #ends justify the means!$ part of the
plan.”
"Yes,” was all Lal said.
"Okay, I am entering information overload. So, you are
saying it will probably require force, military force, to execute
our yet to be determined plan, and that we must launch first be-
fore our intentions become known.”
"Quite so.”
"And there is a likelihood of some death and destruction
when implementing the plan,” Sylvia said, already imagining
how this might play out.
"Yes.”
"And I assume the best way to minimize the death and de-
struction is by the exercise of overwhelming force and by sur-
prise.”
"Yes.”

70


Sylvia sat quietly calculating, trying to expand her imagi-
nation to the proper scale for a project like this. It would have
to be a worldwide, simultaneous action directed first at the
choke points. There were just too many extraction sites to oc-
cupy them all at one time. However, they we would need to oc-
cupy and destroy later so that there could be no going back.
Finding the choke points, Sylvia reasoned, would be the foun-
dation for the rest of the plan.
"Mr. President, who else knows about your plan?”
"At the moment, you need not know that, but you will meet
with them shortly. We have no time to waste.”
"What about the budget? And where will the money come
from?” Sylvia was slipping into her comfort zone, the manage-
ment mode of thinking.
"As for the budget, as the plan develops, so will the bud-
get,” Lal answered. "Regarding where the money will come
from, let!s just say that God will provide.”
"Okay. I understand, because of the secrecy requirement,
there is a #need to know!$filter controlling information, so let!s
just get to where I fit in. What is it you want me to do?”
"I want you to manage the project schedule—the schedule
for the planning phase and the schedule for the implementation
phase of the plan. I want one person, you, responsible for all
this. You have amply shown your skill in managing tasks and
resources when you brought the development of laser-fusion
energy to fruition and with your management of the worldwide
hydrogen conversion program. You brilliantly conceive
and manage your plans. We need exactly those skills for this
project.” Lal stopped. He needed to be clearer.

71


"Sylvia, I need a schedule that reflects the plan minutely.
The schedule is the key to the success of our plan. Indeed, the
schedule is the visual representation of the plan. And I want the
plan logic challenged by you every step of the way, as I know
you can do. I want you continually to test the logic of all the
parts of the plan, to look for flaws and unintended conse-
quences. I want you not only to find and overcome the known
unknowns. I want you to discover the unknown unknowns. You
will be the choke point for the plan. Everything will go through
you. We will only get one chance to do this right.”
"Okay,” said Sylvia, thinking quickly as she spoke. "But
what about the conversion program? We are moving as quickly
as possible worldwide, as you know, but it!s nowhere near
complete. What will happen to the management of that pro-
gram?”
"Sylvia, you have already done the heavy lifting, as they
say. Dr. Cranshaw and I discussed this at length and he agrees
it is safe for a competent administrator to take over from you.
He has given me several names to choose from. But now I need
you on this project, project Nemesis.”
Sylvia realized that the recent closed-door meetings that
excluded her were probably to discuss her replacement as
Deputy Director. She sank into her chair, suddenly tired and
with no idea what to say next except, "When do we get
started?”

72

Lal!s words still stunned Sylvia as she left his office. She
did not think of herself as one easily stunned. The recent World
Federation mandate to its franchisee nations to halt all further
herd animal production for food had not surprised her. The
amount of water and grain needed was staggering, taking up to
two thousand gallons of water and six pounds of grain to pro-
duce a single pound of beef. In a world already experiencing
serious harvest shortages, herd animals were too costly in water
and grain. They were also responsible for over ten percent of
greenhouse gas emissions worldwide. Cattle expel methane and
methane was a powerful contributor to global warming. The
World Federation leadership decided herd animals were a luxu-
ry food the world could no longer afford even though the man-
date would destroy a one hundred billion dollar industry
worldwide. Sylvia understood the urgency for quick action.
Persistent droughts had led to important aquifer depletions.
They needed new priorities for the use of grain.
The decision met enormous resistance from both the finan-
cial stakeholders and from the developing countries themselves
who viewed eating beef as a sign of affluence and a rite of pas-
sage owed them by the developed countries. Therefore, there
was no way to limit beef production in developing countries
without also limiting them in developed countries. An immedi-
ate and total ban was the only course of action. At the time, she
agreed with this assessment and the mandate. Current herd
stock was to complete their commercial life cycle, but no new

73


animals were to be raised and processed. All commercial ani-
mals after a certain date were to be killed, under the mandate.
A significant unintended consequence of the beef ban was
that it put greater stress on the ocean as a source of protein. The
heating of the oceans had been driving more and more oxygen
from the water, seriously stressing all marine life, producing
smaller and smaller catches. The trick was to increase the har-
vesting of sea-based food to make up for the loss of beef pro-
tein without bringing the various fish populations to the brink
of collapse from over-exploitation.
Despite the financial support of the herd animal mandate
by the US and Chinese governments, franchise holders had
were shocked at the time by what many argued was a tyrannical
act by The World Federation. Their franchise agreement, they
protested, did not allow for such unilateral actions, obligating
the franchisees without their consent. Yet the mandate held and
now Sylvia realized she was to have a leadership role in a
project to do the same thing again, but to an industry a thousand
times more valuable and thus more powerful.
Sylvia understood all the good arguments for "biting the
bullet” as Lal described the herd animal ban. She also under-
stood the importance of preparing for any eventuality. But
Project Nemesis stunned her. She knew the carbon stakeholders
were not voluntarily going to walk away from hundreds of tril-
lions of dollars of fossil fuel wealth still in the ground. She un-
derstood the dire climate change projections and the disruptions
already occurring, but she had no illusions this would or even
could be a winning project.
Lal informed her later in the day that he already had re-
cruited Bert McEldridge, former head of the US National Secu-

74


rity Agency, Chen Huichi, former head of the Ministry of State
Security of the People!s Republic of China and Phyllis Abrams,
former head of the Economic Assessment Division of the Fed-
eration. These three, all former high-level executives, would be
her team mates. Lal explained that she and they would report
only to him and that Chen Huichi would be the executive head
of the project, Project Nemesis.
The project name was for operational convenience, but it
was never to be spoken outside its inner circle. She could not
even discuss her mission with James.
"I!ll need a convincing cover story for James. He!s difficult
to fool. I understand,” she quickly added, "the need to control
information about this project.”
"The best cover story will be if we stay as close to the truth
as possible. Just tell James that you are working full time on a
classified mission and that you can!t talk about it. I think that
will do the trick.” Sylvia nodded her acceptance of this ap-
proach. She felt that James would appreciate this message and
honor it.
While Sylvia had no concerns about her husband under-
standing and accepting that some things can be secret even to
him, she wasn!t so sure they could maintain secrecy once the
number of support staff began to grow.
Somewhere along the way, they would develop a proposed
budget. As for the project schedule, it already had two mile-
stones: the start date, today; the end date, the submittal of the
plan, mandated by Lal, no later than January 1, 2045, approxi-
mately two-and-a-half years, start to finish and about fourteen
years from the founding of The World Federation.

75


Sylvia didn!t even know what her title was. Officially, she
realized she wouldn!t exist.
***
Sylvia Carlyle Marshall stood immediately when Bert
McEldridge entered the conference room at the airport. He had
just arrived in Beijing and had recommended that he and Sylvia
meet as soon as possible. She suggested meeting at the airport
before he got caught up in office minutia.
She arranged for the conference room. Water, snacks, light
sandwiches, whiskey, coffee, whatever he might want or need.
After greetings were out of the way, McEldridge poured a
cup of coffee for himself. Sylvia poured herself a glass of water.
This was her first meeting with one of the legends of the
intelligence community. She would be working closely with
him for the next two and a half years and was a bit intimidated.
She welcomed the opportunity for them to begin getting to
know each other in an off-site and informal location. Plus, she
had some grave concerns about the project.
"Sylvia, I may have been recruited into this before you, but
you met personally with the boss and I just spoke with Presi-
dent Lal over the phone. You probably have a better handle on
what we have to do and what we!re up against than I do. So
what do you think?”
Sylvia was taken aback, not expecting such a blunt and
open-ended question, at least not this early in their collabora-
tion.
"Mr. McEldridge, whew. That!s a loaded question. Would
you care to put some handles on it that I can use to grab and
go?”

76


"Please, Sylvia. Call me Bert. Okay, some handles. Well,
one handle, anyway. I know the general goal is to stop carbon-
based fuel extraction worldwide and for us to come up with the
plan to do this and turn it over to President Lal in two years and
a half years. That!s basically it, yes?”
Sylvia answered without hesitation. "Yes.”
"Good,” McEldridge said. "So, what do you think?” He
smiled broadly at her.
Sylvia was silent for a long time, while McEldridge waited
patiently for her answer. Finally, having tested in her mind any
number of responses, she decided to go with exactly what she
thought.
"It can!t be done,” she said. "Even worse, it probably
shouldn!t be done. If it could be done, which I think it can!t, it
would take down the whole world economy on a scale never
even imagined possible. Carbon-based chemical extraction can
be reduced gradually as is being done now, but not in a matter
of days or weeks. It would simply bring down the world.” Her
voice during the last few words trailed off until she was silent.
"Is that all?” McEldridge asked.
"Isn!t that enough?”
"I mean do you have any other concerns?” McEldridge
said. "For example, you say it can!t be done. Why not?”
Sylvia sighed. "Okay, first there are no real choke points.
Or rather, there are so many choke points that it would be im-
possible to control them all so they are not really choke points
at all. It!s complicated. And we don!t even know where they all
are. Or what they are. Are they money choke points that make
the operations meaningful to begin with? Material choke points

77


that feed the process? Transportation choke points that could
stop the distribution, making extraction pointless? As for the
number of extraction sites, in the US alone there are about two
thousand coal mines. This does not include natural gas, oil,
shale and tar sands extraction sites. Worldwide, god only knows
how many sites we are talking about.” Sylvia looked at
McEldridge to gauge his reaction to her assessment. When she
couldn!t read his reaction, she summed it up once again for her-
self. "It simply can!t be done.”
McEldridge leaned back in his chair. He studied Sylvia for
a moment, and then asked, "Anything else?”
Sylvia looked closely at McEldridge. "No,” she said with
an element of defiance in her voice. After a moment she con-
cluded more softly with, "No, for now.”
McEldridge got up and walked to the table with the drinks
and snacks. He looked the table over and then chose two of the
small sandwich halves, putting them on a dish and then gather-
ing up some utensils. Walking back to the table he placed his
plate down and turning to Sylvia said, "I think we are going to
get along just famously, Sylvia.” And then he asked her, "Can I
get you something?”
***
James Marshall returned his cell phone to his pocket. His
boss, Noel Anderson, Director of External Affairs at The World
Federation, was not happy with the report James submitted re-
garding the radioactive water beginning to arrive at Las Vegas
from Yucca Flat. However, it was no longer an issue for James!s
concern. The issue would be kicked upstairs and other people
would have to deal with it. It would not be a pretty picture.

78


America!s coastal states had been hit hard by hurricanes
and by the rise in sea level as well. Some cities, New Orleans
being among the most prominent, had been entirely abandoned.
Others, virtually all the principal cities of the east coast of the
United States, were forced to take extraordinary measures to
deal with permanent flooding of the seaward portions of the
cities, abandoning streets, buildings and infrastructure as the
cities contracted away from the advancing ocean. Sea walls and
massive pumps gave some inland relief from surge damage dur-
ing storms. The shape of the eastern coastline of the United
States was gradually transforming into something permanently
new.
But Las Vegas was a different story from the coastal
nightmare, James thought. It was an improbable city, true, stu-
pidly built in a desert, but on the other hand, not endangered by
the ocean. The perpetual issue for Las Vegas was the assurance
of adequate drinking water. In an ever-growing world popula-
tion, making ever-growing demands for water, global warming
at the same time was choking off the supply of water.
James was not surprised by the water deficit problem for
Las Vegas. Persistent drought and the replacement of winter
mountain snow with rain were the major culprits. Slow melting
of winter snow in the mountains provided the constant water
supply needed to feed rivers like the Colorado in the spring and
summer. However, winter rain instead of snow runs off quickly
and by late spring and summer the mountains no longer supply
water and the rivers go dry. Then, everything that depends on
the river perishes. Or adapts if it can, but changes were happen-
ing too quickly for adapting to be a plausible remedy in the
wild and now in the human population.

79


James remembered that pithy Darwinian maxim he learned
in high school biology class. “In times of environmental crisis,
adapt, migrate or die.” If the changes were happening over
thousands or even hundreds of years, adaptation might have
been an option. But the changes were occurring over decades
and that was simply too fast for nature to adjust to and migra-
tion on such short notice was a challenge that only people with
money could meet. For animals, plants and the human poor,
dying was the inevitable Darwinian outcome.
James didn!t want to think about the probable end game of
the Las Vegas crisis. Even the word crisis had come to lose its
meaning since a crisis by its nature should be a rare upheaval
demanding decisive action, but the world now was awash with
exactly such situations.
There was a mounting credibility to what used mockingly
to be called "doomsday scenarios.” Except the mockery had
gradually faded away in the last five years as one global warm-
ing related disaster after another took center stage, only to be
followed by finger pointing and recrimination. Still missing was
the collective and coordinated worldwide collaboration of effort
at a level sufficient to make a significant difference to the ac-
celerating collapse of the worldwide environment. James was
acutely aware that seriously deep and painful actions were
needed but not happening.
Although the growth in greenhouse gases emitted into the
atmosphere had been slowed due to the growing use of wind
and solar energy and the steady conversion to hydrogen based
energy, fossil fuels were still being burned as the primary
source of energy worldwide. Despite all the warnings, all the
death and destruction already attributable to global warming,

80


the old arguments remained unheeded that a "wartime footing”
was needed to save the environment. It was all too depressing
to James. He decided not to think about it.
Instead, James decided to call his wife. He was almost
never able to locate Sylvia easily. Her influence was felt in so
many critical areas within the World Federation, it almost al-
ways required several telephone transfers before he finally con-
nected with her. Nevertheless, despite its frequent failure to re-
sult in a speedy connection, he routinely started with her cell
phone. As he heard the sound of the call attempting to connect
he suddenly remembered the fifteen-hour time difference be-
tween Las Vegas and Beijing. To his surprise, she answered
right away.
"Wow, Sylvie, that was randomly lucky,” he said after she
answered on the second ring.
"Jimmy, it!s so good to hear from you. Evidently some-
thing big is happening in Vegas and President Lal suggested I
keep an ear out for a call from you. He thought you might need
a friendly voice. Can you tell me what!s going on?”
"Not over the phone, sweetheart. When I see you. I just
wanted to hear your voice. You sound wonderful to me. How
are things going in Beijing?”
"Well, you know. One step forward, a half step back. Also,
I met with President Lal yesterday and, oh yeah, I have a new
job. It!s designed to eat my life for the next year or two. Can!t
talk about it either over the phone. It will test your patience, my
darling. And mine I think, but duty calls. Ours is not to question
why, right?”
James was surprised that Lal had advised her to check up
on him. He wondered if Lal was already aware of the water
81


problem in Vegas? In that case why did it seem like new busi-
ness? Perhaps there was only a suspicion and Lal wanted to get
his take on the story. The Federation was getting more and more
clandestine. He didn!t like it.
"Exactly,” James answered with the same flippancy as
Sylvia!s lighthearted question. “Aint it fun? Anyway, it!s hotter
than hell here in Nevada, but I!ll be leaving soon. Spoke with
Noel and he wants me to check out the relocation activities in
Bangladesh. The flooding is evidently worse than anticipated.
The country is really struggling with the permanent relocation
of so many people. The government is overwhelmed and Noel
wants me to come back with some recommendations for any-
thing the Federation can do to try to stabilize the politics. I!ll be
leaving tonight for Dhaka instead of for home.”
"Jimmy, I!m not happy with that,” Sylvia said. "These civil
unrest assignments are getting scarier and scarier. Will you have
adequate protection? I know they always reassure you, but what
do you think?”
"It!s like a fucking war zone, Syl. I know that. But it goes
with the job and Noel said a Delta Force team has been as-
signed to my security. They!re very capable and I!ll just trust to
their taking good care of me. Those guys are pretty scary all by
themselves. I probably won!t see them or meet with them, but
they!ll be there. I!ll be okay. So, not to worry. Hey,” James said,
engaging his cheerful voice once again, "you have a new job!
Do I offer congratulations or condolences?”
"I think a little of both. Jonas said to give you his love and
asked if you could bring back something #wild west!$for him to
show at school.”

82


"I already planned to get something at one of the airport
gift shops. How!s he doing?”
"You know kids. He!s great. His Mandarin is becoming
very slick. Lijuan says for a foreigner his accent is almost unde-
tectable. I think he learns more from playing with his Beijing
buddies than from his classes, but in any event, we can be
proud of him, without question. He really is an amazing little
boy, Jimmy. Well, not so little. He wants to work on a farm this
summer after school lets out. The farm belongs to Lijuan!s Un-
cle Renshou. What do you think?”
"Hmm. Let me think about that. What does Lijuan!s mother
think? I assume she!s in the loop on this somewhere.”
"I talked with Lijuan and she talked with her mother. They
say it would definitely be safe and a good experience for Jonas.
They already talked with Uncle Renshou and he!s willing to
look after him. But Lijuan says they!ll not pull any punches, so
to speak. Jonas will have to carry his own weight. It!s a working
farm, not a showplace for pampered diplomats!$kids.”
"It sounds great. I love it. I!ll talk with Lijuan when I get
home, but I don!t see a problem as long as that!s what Jonas
would like to do. He!s already pretty tough for a kid his age, but
I think this will make him even tougher.”
"He!s still my baby and I!ll miss him. We could wait a cou-
ple of years, but I also think this will be very good for him and
to tell you the truth, with my new assignment, I won!t have a lot
of time for him this summer. This!ll take up the slack. I think
it!s all good, Jimmy.”
"Me too. I love you, girl. I have to get a move on. Off to
Bangladesh.”
83


They both laugh. It sounded more like a line from a movie
than from real life.
"Be safe, my darling. Call me when you get to Dhaka.”
***
For the Federation, Bangladesh had been ground zero for a
long time in the fight against the devastating and irreversible
sea level rise affecting hundreds of millions of people. It had
been a losing battle for Bangladesh and James!s visit was to
check on how the population relocation to the interior was go-
ing. It was not the first case of climate refugees, but it was defi-
nitely the biggest.
Ironically, despite of the lower third of the country being
under water, the upper two thirds of Bangladesh were now less
subject to inundation. The reduction in the size of mountain
glaciers in India reduced the flow of the Brahmaputra River that
supplied fresh water to northern Bangladesh. Also, the lessened
seasonal monsoon downpours due to altered weather patterns
contributed to less flooding along the banks of the Ganges, re-
ducing the flow to Bangladesh from that river as well. So, while
one problem due to sea level rise was creating devastating in-
undation in the south, in the north, ironically, region-wide
drought was creating greatly reduced harvests with the conse-
quent threat of famine.
Approaching from the north, as James!s plane got lower, he
could see a large group of demonstrators outside one of the
Shahjalal Airport terminal buildings. This was nothing new, he
thought. Food prices had skyrocketed after India began divert-
ing more of the water from the Brahmaputra for its own irriga-
tion needs. Relentless droughts had hit neighboring India hard
and its agricultural productivity too was greatly reduced. But

84


this was of little interest to the average Bangladeshi household-
er, struggling under the uncertainty and cost of feeding his fam-
ily. Farmers in northern Bangladesh could no longer depend on
the fresh water of the Brahmaputra and Ganges rivers for irriga-
tion.
When James!s plane landed, it taxied to a far corner of the
airport and stopped near a line of jet fighter aircraft. James
guessed that with the demonstration taking place, it was proba-
bly a security precaution. He saw three Air Force jeeps moving
quickly toward his plane. There were several armed military
personnel in each vehicle. They came to a stop near the plane.
Armed soldiers got out of the vehicles and formed a cordon
around the plane. A man in a business suit and another in a mili-
tary uniform quickly strode to the plane.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain. Please remain
in your seats. We will hold here briefly for a security check and
then have you on your way as soon as possible.” James regret-
ted not having that second scotch before the drink service was
closed. The front door opened and the two men entered. From
his seat in first class, James Marshall could see that the military
man was a senior officer. He assumed that the civilian was
some kind of security official. They busied themselves with re-
viewing paperwork with the head stewardess. Finally, the civil-
ian #suit!$ looked past the paperwork into the passenger area
scanning all the faces. James was surprised and a little alarmed
when the man quickly entered the cabin, coming directly to
him.
"Mr. Marshall, is it not?” he said.
"Yes,” James said, wondering if he would need to present
his passport. It was in the overhead bin.
85


"Please come with me, sir,” the man said. "Do you have an
overhead bag?”
"Yes.”
"Best if you take that, sir.”
James and the security officer walked to the front exit by
the flight deck access door. The military officer led the way
down the stairs. James was relieved to see a limousine rather
than a military vehicle had been brought to the foot of the stairs.
He moved to the rear seat, followed by the civilian official. The
military officer returned to his men securing the aircraft. As
James drove away he heard the jet turbines increasing their rev-
olutions, evidently to continue to its assigned arrival gate.
"Mr. Marshall, the Prime Minister wishes to extend his
welcome. He believed it would be best to meet you on the tar-
mac so that you could avoid the terminal delays. Did you have a
pleasant flight?”
"Yes, thank you. It was most kind of the Prime Minister to
be so thoughtful.” James decided it best at the moment not to
acknowledge the demonstrations outside the Shahjalal main
terminal.
It was a short ride to the National Parliament House where
the Prime Minister!s office and residence were located. The
complex looked more like a castle on a hill than anything repre-
senting "The People!s House” as the Bangladeshi name for the
building translates into English. James always found the archi-
tecture pretentious and ugly from the outside. The ornamental
lakes and cylindrical towers incorporated into the overall design
suggested a medieval flavor to the building that conflicted utter-
ly with its expansive flat, featureless, totally contemporary fa-
cade. Once inside, however, the central chamber with its high-
86


vaulted ceiling and dramatic lighting, spacious hallways and
panoramic views were unexpectedly impressive the first time
James had visited.
James!s meeting with the Prime Minister did not take long.
It was the same story of woe, with no change from his last visit.
In the south, the relentless rise in the sea level had permanently
doomed that part of the country. In north and central Bangla-
desh, the annual monsoon rains would once again be far less
than what was needed. The rivers in the north would largely run
dry by mid-summer. As a result, the harvest would again be in-
sufficient to feed the people. Grain purchases from Russia and
elsewhere would again be necessary to stave off famine. The
cost of relocating the southern population was to some extent
being helped by grants from the Federation, but assimilating so
many people into new neighborhoods was straining the social
infrastructure and was not going well. When dirty work like this
was being done, speed was of the essence and James had made
some recommendations in this regard.
Even greater than the people!s anger against the Bangla-
desh government was their anger at the Indian government. The
Bangladeshis blamed India for their failed harvests due to the
Indian siphoning of greater and greater portions of the Brahma-
putra River flow to satisfy their own irrigation needs. Thankful-
ly, James thought, the Bangladesh military was no match for the
Indian military or he would be concerned that the people!s rage
and fear might lead to war with India.
Following his meeting with the Prime Minister, James
went back to his hotel room in Dhaka where he was able to
arrange for a private plane to take him on an aerial flyover of
the submerged south. He did not expect to see anything new. He

87


just wanted to see it again. The loss of so much land to the sea
was such a powerful testament, James thought, to the irretriev-
able years wasted arguing about climate change, especially dur-
ing the crucial years of denial during the Trump administration
and subsequent Republican administrations in America.
In the past James Marshall had flown over the flooded
Mississippi River and had been impressed then at the massive
scale of the inundation. He was well aware of the normal banks
of the Mississippi and marveled at how much beyond its banks
the water had spread. Observing the transformation then, he
thought even the idea of river banks had lost its meaning. All he
saw then from the ground was the unexpected vision of an in-
land sea stretching to the horizon, relieved here and there with
flooded farm houses and the sight of useless, elevated earthen
dikes, surrounded on all sides, in all directions, by water. How-
ever, that inland sea created by the flooding Mississippi River
was only temporary and retreated when the rains subsided and
the floodwaters receded.
This time, when the inundation came to Bangladesh, it
seemed at first like all the others that in the past had plagued
this at-risk region of the world. Except it did not recede and
there was no monsoon rain to blame. Like a vengeful spirit it
simply came to do its worst, unannounced and without pity.
And stayed. The flooding of southern Bangladesh was now
permanent.
Known as the Brahmaputra Delta or the Bengal Delta, this
connection to the ocean for western India, Bangladesh and
Myanmar was the world!s largest delta and emptied into the
Bay of Bengal. It had also been one of the world!s most fertile

88


regions, supporting upwards of 300 million people prior to its
loss to a rising ocean.
The Bay of Bengal was uniquely shallow and vulnerable
and just as the scientists predicted, it was among the most
calamitous losses to the warmer and warmer, steadily rising
ocean. The entire Brahmaputra delta historically had been sub-
ject to episodic tidal surges and temporary inundation, but now
the lower portion of the delta was permanently under water. As
far as James Marshall could see, the Bay of Bengal now pene-
trated inland almost to the capital, Dhaka.
Flying over this abandoned delta, kilometer after kilometer
he witnessed once again the depressing vision of an unwelcome
and endless inland sea, now peppered with the rooftop relics of
deserted villages, awash and as lonely as tufts of dead and des-
iccated grass poking from desert dunes. Further up the en-
croaching bay, he saw the naked treetops of what once had been
thriving forests. Everything else lay hidden beneath the wind-
ruffled water. Except for the bodies.
Bodies floated, dead from starvation or disease, like the
ghoulish debris of some distant destruction. Many of the
starved had been placed in hurried, shallow graves only to re-
emerge when the water came, rising to the surface by the thou-
sands, truly by the tens of thousands. They were silent testimo-
ny for what was yet to come to other coastal populations
worldwide.
James knew five years ago it would take something this
big and this tangible to get the attention of the world, to get
them to acknowledge the cost that inaction was going to exact.
What shocked James was how quickly it all happened and now
in a matter of only a few months, more than 300 million people
from three countries needed to be relocated. And housed. And
89


fed. At least twenty-five million more people were expected to
die of hunger or disease by the time the relocations were com-
pleted.
It was an area of the world already scarred by famine. In
1943, the Bengal famine killed approximately three million
people. Again in 1974 more than a million Bangladeshis died of
famine. Elsewhere, in the early part of this century, James Mar-
shall knew that the political unrest and rioting that became
known as the 2011 Arab Spring was not at first a call for
democracy, but rather arose from an alarming increase in the
cost of food, a burgeoning, largely unemployed youthful popu-
lation and more and more evident government corruption. It
would only take the spark of famine to ignite political fires out-
side the Middle East as well, in the northern and western prov-
inces of China and throughout Central and South America.
Global warming was heating Earth in more ways than one, he
thought.
To ease his distress, when he had seen too much, when
witnessing tragedies on such a massive scale as that in Bangla-
desh, James removed himself emotionally to a more peaceful
place. He thought of Sylvia and Jonas, pictured them in his
mind, and imagined being with them. It was as if he forced
himself into a parallel universe, one without the human cata-
strophes he witnessed regularly because of his job.
He and Sylvia and Cranshaw and General Slaider and all
the rest responsible for the formation of The World Federation
had hoped laser-induced fusion would save the day, rescue the
world. Instead, every day it became more and more evident that
the predicted consequence of the relentless burning of fossil
fuels and the continuing, almost criminal lack of urgency in tak-

90


ing meaningful action left the consequences of human folly al-
ready "baked in,” unavoidable and increasingly manifesting.
It was time to return home to Beijing, James decided with
some relief. He directed his pilot to return him to Shahjalal Air-
port. To keep his schedule flexible, to allow him to observe
wherever and whenever he deemed necessary, James was not
going to use a commercial flight home. At his request, the Fed-
eration had sent one of their own jets to pick him up. The pilot
of his observer plane called ahead to determine the status of
James!s Federation plane and to inform the crew that he was on
his way back to Dhaka. The World Federation crew gave assur-
ances that James!s plane would be fueled and ready when he
arrived.
On their approach to Shahjalal Airport James saw from the
air that nothing had changed. The demonstrators were still con-
centrated in front of one of the terminal buildings, overflowing
onto the access road.
Just shy of an hour after starting back, James!s plane was
on the ground and taxiing to an arrival gate at Terminal 2. Sud-
denly, the pilot of James!s plane throttled the engine up quickly
and turned abruptly away from the terminal and back towards
the runway leading south, toward the military portion of the
airport.
"What!s happening?” James asked his pilot.
"I am just getting information now. There seems to have
been a breach of the terminal entry points and the crowd is now
inside Terminal 2,” he said. James noted his matter-of-fact, un-
hurried delivery of this information and was relieved by it.

91


"We have been instructed to meet your World Federation
plane at the south end. It!s more or less a VIP arrival area, any-
way. No problem, Mr. Marshall.”
As the pilot was speaking, people began emerging from
Terminal 2 and onto the field. It was clearly another breach of
security and the crowd was growing in numbers as James
watched. He was becoming concerned despite the pilot!s calm
assessment of the situation. As the pilot continued taxiing, mili-
tary vans began arriving, forming a barrier in front of the ad-
vancing crowd, attempting to block their further advance onto
the field. Riot police emerged from the vans. Some carried
body-length transparent shields. Some carried wooden batons,
while others carried automatic rifles. James noted many of them
were surprisingly tall, towering over those in the approaching
crowd. Specially selected and scary looking, James thought.
A mobile water cannon was quickly approaching the area
of the breach. James turned his head and looked back to follow
the action on the tarmac. It appeared that the crowd was head-
ing toward the Federation jet awaiting his arrival. There were
armed guards surrounding the plane and James had confidence
the authorities would do whatever was necessary to avoid em-
barrassing a World Federation official.
"Mr. Marshall, if you please, when I come to a stop, I will
open the exit door and deploy the steps. If you would move
swiftly, sir, to your plane, I assure you there will be no
problem.”
"No problem. Okay,” James said, repeating the pilot!s
words as a kind of reassuring echo.
The spotter plane taxied to The World Federation jet and
came to a stop. The pilot opened the exit and deployed the
92


steps. James moved quickly to the exit, but just as he was about
to descend, the pilot stopped him and respectfully, but firmly
pulled him back into the interior of the plane and lifted the steps
back into the plane as well. Looking out a window, James could
see that there was a breach now of Terminal 1 and a large num-
ber of demonstrators were racing towards his plane. James
watched with growing concern as the military personnel who
were protecting both his spotter plane and the Federation plane
arranged themselves in a kind of skirmish line and presented
their weapons towards the approaching crowd. Another row of
troops carrying batons quickly formed in front of them.
The front of the crowd stopped abruptly when they saw the
presentation of weapons, causing a collision with those behind
them. James could see a lot of hand waving and yelling, though
he could hear nothing. The pause created by the presentation of
arms was just long enough for a second water cannon to reach
the scene. It stood ominously between the temporarily stalled
crowd and the double line of troops. An officer stepped out to
face the crowd. He had an amplified megaphone and James
concluded by his gestures that he was busy ordering everyone
off the field. There followed more confusion among the demon-
strators as to what their next course of action should be. The
officer waited. James could see those in the front of the demon-
strators looking towards Terminal 1 for some guidance, but
there was no obvious sign of leadership there as well among the
emerging body of demonstrators from that terminal building.
The scene slipped into an eerie silence. Both terminals had
disgorged several hundred people confronting the troops on the
field. Additional troops kept arriving and James assumed rein-
forcements were gathering inside the terminal as well.

93


Suddenly, someone from the middle of the crowd threw a
rock and as if a switch had been flipped, the water cannons
went into operation. At the same time, the troops with batons
slowly began moving forward, the cannons moving forward
with them. The line of demonstrators fell into confusion, some
moving forward and some moving back toward the terminals.
The officer in charge gave an order and the front row of
troops charged the crowd, swinging their batons and powerfully
striking anyone not able to retreat quickly enough. It did not
take long to clear the field once the policing decision had been
made. The troops pushed the demonstrators back inside the
terminals and kept going, obviously, James thought, to support
the police and military already inside and to help with the
crowd they had just forced back inside the terminals.
"Mr. Marshall, I am so sorry for this delay. It is now per-
fect to move to your plane for the trip home. Okay?”
"Yes, perfect,” James said, unconsciously adopting the
rocking of the head from side to side in a gesture of #no prob-
lem!$characteristic of this part of the world. It takes a bit of time
for westerners to understand that what looks like a no is really a
yes.
"Time to transfer, Mr. Marshall,” the pilot said with author-
ity.
He thanked his pilot, quickly descended the redeployed
steps from the spotter plane and just as quickly moved to and
climbed the stairs to his larger plane for the trip home.
Not the worst exit he!d ever made, but not the best either,
he thought as he buckled in, relieved that the Federation pilot
was wasting no time taxiing to the runway.

94

Paul Latimer sat across the cargo bay from Grigory

Zukanov. The plane was one of the few remaining turboprop
planes in the Russian fleet. It was slower, but very dependable,
Zukanov had assured Latimer. Now, neither one seemed fully
convinced.
"Jesus,” Latimer cried out as the plane took an unexpected
lurch downward, followed just as quickly by another lurch to
the right. "What the fuck,” he said for emphasis. Zukanov re-
mained silent, tightly gripping the edges of his seat after pulling
his safety belt more securely about him.
Both men stared vacantly as the plane oscillated in three
directions at once, with sudden drops and recoveries continuing
for another fifteen minutes, perhaps the longest in Latimer!s
recent memory.
Zukanov watched Latimer and finally said, "We should be
on the ground in about ten minutes.” This did not comfort to
Latimer. Fuck me, he thought. This was not the way he expect-
ed to die. Receiving not even a nod of acknowledgement from
Latimer, Zukanov returned to quiet resignation.
At last, the wheels of their plane touched the ground and
despite the evident swaying of the plane because of cross winds
along their path, the plane slowed dramatically, finally coming
to a reassuring stop. When the rear cargo door opened, they
both could see that it was probably best there had been no win-
dows in the cargo bay. Outside there was a strongly gusting
windstorm blowing sand, debris and leaves across the runway
from the birch forest along the southern border of the airport.

95


Latimer called to Zukanov as they waited for the pilot to
instruct them on what to do next. "Did he just land us in a fuck-
ing hurricane?” he asked.
"Don!t worry, my friend. It!s normal here. They planted
trees around the airport to try to reduce the wind, but it has been
only partly effective. The lake behind the hydroelectric dam
used to be all forest, and it slowed the wind. Now, because of
the lake, nothing much stops the wind. You get used to it.”
"I don!t think so. You won!t mind if I kiss the ground when
we get off this thing?” Zukanov just smiled. After several min-
utes, when the pilot completed his necessary arrival tasks, he
entered the bay to lead the men off and to the reception area.
Tolmachevo Novosibirsk International Airport was about
fifteen kilometers from the center of Novosibirsk proper, and
Zukanov arranged for a car after they cleared the security and
passport control checkpoints. No one was waiting to meet
them. Latimer did not want to telegraph his arrival. He was
used to staying not just under the radar, but invisible. The fewer
people who knew the when and where of his travel arrange-
ments, the safer he felt.
Zukanov drove to the city, passing over the Bugrinsky auto
bridge spanning the Ob River. Novosibirsk, being a heavily in-
dustrial and commercial city, the third largest in the Russian
Federation, Latimer was confident they could easily melt into
the warren of densely populated streets. Zukanov, born in
Siberia and living most of his life in Novosibirsk, was able, on
short notice for security reasons, to arrange housing for them
both.
Zukanov found a fourth-floor room in a five-story walkup
in a nondescript hotel in the central district. It had shared bath-

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rooms, but it would do. Documents were of no interest and
payment was in advance. Two light bulbs in their room were
no longer working and it would be easier, Latimer thought, to
buy new bulbs himself than wait for the hotel management to
replace them. Latimer decided he would deal with it when they
went for food in the evening. Tomorrow he would meet with
representatives of the Federal Security Service, the FSS, as
Zukanov promised.
***
Paul Latimer never expected to be living the life fate had
thrust upon him. He expected to live the safe life of privilege;
one where he had only to choose the path and success would
follow. His father, Edgar Latimer, was president, CEO and
principal shareholder of Latimer Enterprises. The company sold
information. They harvested information, looking everywhere
from online, government, financial, military, private and even
clandestine sources.
The Network shaped, organized, and presented the data to
meet the individual needs of the clients. In an age when knowl-
edge was money, Latimer Enterprises was a creator and protec-
tor of wealth worldwide. Paul Latimer!s family became rich and
powerful, keeping other people rich and powerful.
Latimer was educated in the world of entitlement and
loved America for what it gave him—access to the benefits of
wealth. One of the benefits was entrée into the fraternity of high
public service, not for the money and security it can provide,
but for the connections. In Paul Latimer!s circle, there was no
need for him to express an interest in politics. He had a kind of
birthright to it. Good looks, good people skills, good family,

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and influential friends. The political king makers came to him.
And the family approved.
Latimer began his political career with a run for the US
senate in his home state of Ohio. As a Democrat in a Democrat-
ic state, with no youthful scandals to explain away, with a beau-
tiful, articulate and politically astute young wife and earning his
money in a way that, because it was esoteric, was safe political-
ly, he won office on his first try. As expected.
As the junior senator from Ohio, Latimer learned how to
be a team player, how to use his charm to persuade constituents
who might otherwise not favor or approve where the party
wanted to go and most of all he learned the value of raising
money to help other party candidates. Almost because of this
alone, he became one of the chosen few.
At the nominating convention for soon-to-be President
Emerson Drummond, Latimer gave the keynote address. By
Drummond!s second nominating convention, they named Paul
Latimer as the President!s vice presidential running mate. His
task was to secure for the President Ohio!s twenty Electoral
College votes. Latimer understood his role and delivered. Pres-
ident Drummond swept Ohio in his run for a second term, and
Latimer rose from a political expediency to a presidential friend
and confidant.
President Drummond embodied for Latimer an authentic
man of vision and integrity who took the path of public service
as a calling. He was perhaps the first man Paul Latimer could
observe closely who was not merely rich but was also honestly
and fervently principled. The proximity to a man such as
Drummond could not help but change him. The World Federa-
tion rose from the ashes of the years of chaos, death and trans-

98


formation, when the entire government of the United States se-
questered outside the loop of actual power, when President
Drummond himself was killed, when the UN collapsed and
vanished as a world body. In the wake of General Slaider!s
temporary usurpation of supreme power in the US, Vice Presi-
dent Paul Latimer escaped to Germany, but left his life behind.
No more wife, no more family, no certain future.
His life as he had known it was over. He had to become
invisible because he knew too much. While the world was hail-
ing General Slaider as a hero who returned order to the world,
Latimer knew the truth, that it was Slaider who was behind the
disorder all along. He knew it, but he could not prove it. Nev-
ertheless, his knowledge was a threat to the newly established
order, and he was a marked man.
It was his association with President Drummond that had
nurtured the strength crouching within him, hiding, masked by
the serene life of privilege no longer his. He had alternative
choices to make and new priorities, the first being survival. To
survive, he went underground. But survival was not enough. He
would not capitulate. Somehow he would bring down the cor-
rupted world born from lies, death and destruction. To him, The
World Federation was born from an evil seed and evil would
eventually be its fruit, despite the slogans and the cover-ups. It
was born from tyranny and it would return to tyranny. This he
fervently believed. Paul Latimer was a man of action, but for
now, action in the shadows.
Latimer Enterprises, in its data gathering activities, would
sometimes discover information of a compromising nature on
men and women of power and influence, not to be sold, but to
be stored for possible future use as exigent "currency.” Paul!s

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father realized the value of these data and formed a clandestine
division of Latimer Enterprises to gather and manage this grow-
ing base of deep intelligence. He called that division The Net-
work.
The Network soon touched every continent and Paul La-
timer, proving himself to be a skilled clandestine operator nec-
essarily as a matter of survival, gradually and secretly gained
control of The Network. It was a suitable match. Neither The
Network nor Paul Latimer could operate openly, but Latimer
had anyway abandoned hope for an open life for the foreseeable
future when he set foot in Germany, one step ahead of General
Slaider!s Special Forces assassins. Yet the emerging invisible
strength of The Network created a shield around him like a mir-
ror. When people looked for him, what they saw instead was the
reflection of their own quest. Latimer remained safe in the vir-
tual world behind the mirror.
***
General Yevgeny Bukonovich, Deputy Chief for Military
Counterintelligence, and Gospodin Sergei Ivanoff, Deputy
Chief for the Border Service of the Federal Security Service,
ducked into the shadows of a doorway. Plainly dressed, the two
attempted to appear as anonymous figures in the teaming streets
of Novosibirsk.
However, Bukonovich, the taller of the two, wore a full-
length coat, which, against his intention, emphasized his height.
He stood tall and straight, unable to retire his military posture
and not accustomed to field operations. A man of about sixty
years, clean-shaven with close-cropped hair, he displayed a
commanding presence that comes from years of authority over
other men. Despite his lack of field experience, he was still a

100


soldier of the Russian Federation and in a confrontation would
use his training to attack rather than defend. Fortunately for
him, he was a cautious man and rarely in his career did he need
to put his skills to the test. Only once, when posted to Syria, did
he experience hand-to-hand combat. He proved himself then to
be a formidable foe.
Ivanoff was rather different, appearing to be no more dis-
tinguished than any other merchant one would find in abun-
dance in a commercial shipping area with its nearby array of
support services and businesses. He was a man in his late for-
ties, of average height, and wore a brown beret and a light den-
im jacket. It was three days since his last shave. He peered
through round, wire-frame glasses. To the casual observer, he
left no distinct impression. He was invisible. Exactly as he
wished it.
Although of inferior status to Bukonovich, it was Ivanoff
who steered the two into the shadows. "General, I think it best if
we travel separately from here. The number of Chinese on the
streets is becoming worrisome. If we continue to travel togeth-
er, they may see us as a threat to them and thus of interest. We
can arrive separately at Zukanov!s apartment.”
Bukonovich didn!t like splitting up, but deferred to the
greater field experience of his partner. Like Ivanoff, he feared
that the more they moved to the edge of the central district, the
greater was the Chinese presence. Many of them were in the
country legally, but many were not. And almost all of them also
carried Chinese passports and identity papers in addition to
their Russian Federation documents. To Ivanoff, charged with
control of the borders of Siberia, the numbers were worrisome,
but not yet alarming. Tensions had recently increased, along

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with the number of Chinese migrants to Siberia, as the three-
year drought in the Chinese agricultural heartland was heading
to a fourth year.
"As you say, Gospodin Ivanoff. Better to be cautious.”
At that moment a Chinese man in ragged clothes, un-
shaven and evidently indigent, appeared unexpectedly. Having
moved quietly, accustomed to stealth, he approached Ivanoff
and Bukonovich undetected until the last moment.
His Russian was poor but good enough to make clear he
wanted a cigarette. Bukonovich tried to brush him off, but the
man persisted, becoming noisy and hostile.
"Fucking Russians,” he shouted. "Give me a cigarette.”
This was shocking and unexpected behavior for a Chinese
who almost universally tried to stay inconspicuous in the pres-
ence of Russians. Now it was becoming dangerous for the two
Russian officers. Bukonovich, without waiting for Ivanoff!s as-
sessment, struck the man a solid blow to the jaw. The man im-
mediately lurched backwards from the force of the blow, simul-
taneously crumpling to the ground. Bukonovich moved quickly,
supporting him and maneuvering him to a recumbent position
on the hallway steps where they had taken refuge. Having cre-
ated the appearance of a drunk sleeping it off, the two men
quickly separated and went their different ways to their ren-
dezvous with Zukanov and the American only a few blocks
away.
Sergei Ivanoff arrived first. The entrance to the building
was no longer secure, someone evidently having broken the
lock long ago and never repaired it. This was not a problem. It
was unlikely there would be anything worth stealing anywhere
in the building. Ivanoff entered and stood at the foot of the

102


stairs, waiting for Yevgeny Bukonovich. The hall light was dim
and barely more than what a candle would have produced.
Ivanoff noted it, looked around quickly to survey the hall for
other entrances and exits. There were five apartments on this
level, three on the left and one opening on the right in front of
the stairs and one opening behind the ramp of the stairs, also on
the right. Ivanoff noticed the door to the middle apartment on
the left was open slightly, but no light escaped into the hallway.
Ivanoff assumed the apartment was empty, perhaps not yet rent-
ed, and simply neglected.
He remained at the bottom of the stairs to wait for
Bukonovich in the partial light. If someone else entered the
building, he could always make a show of beginning to climb
the stairs. He believed he and Bukonovich meeting Zukanov
and the American together would present a stronger first im-
pression of power and organization. Despite expecting
Bukonovich any minute, Ivanoff reached into his jacket pocket
and pulled out a pipe and a pouch of tobacco. If Bukonovich
arrived before he finished, he would simply take it up with him.
The informality might put the American at ease.
As he half expected, only a few moments passed before
Bukonovich arrived. They exchange a silent greeting and
climbed the stairs to their rendezvous point.
Bukonovich knocked strongly on the door and when
opened the two quickly entered. The room was lit well enough
with a bare overhead light and a lamp on the table next to the
bed at the rear of the room. There was a round table in the cen-
ter of the room with four simple wooden chairs around it. It was
only one room with a small kitchen area against the left-hand
wall. There was no bathroom in the unit. Instead, there was one
communal toilet and shower on each floor. There was no other
103


door in the apartment besides the entrance door. Against the
right-hand wall was an armoire that served for a closet. The
American stood beside the bed, waiting to be introduced.
All present spoke fluent English.
"Gentlemen,” Zukanov said, addressing Ivanoff and
Bukonovich, "I am honored to present to you my companion,
Vice President Paul Latimer and a friend to the Russian Federa-
tion.” Zukanov followed the tradition of using a man!s last ac-
quired title.
Ivanoff smiled and continued smoking his pipe. He did not
offer his hand to Latimer. Bukonovich did not smile, but
pumped Latimer!s hand energetically.
"Please, everyone take a seat,” Zukanov said. While the
others were seating themselves he reached into a bag on the ta-
ble and pulled out a bottle of vodka and four shot glasses,
which he filled and passed to the others. "Gentlemen,” he said
again, raising his own glass, "to a successful meeting, to our
mutual benefit.” They quickly emptied each glass.
"Now, if you will allow Mr. Latimer the honor, I would
like to turn our discussion over to him.” Ivanoff and
Bukonovich nodded their assent.
Latimer tamped out the cigarette he was smoking and be-
gan.
"I first want to express my deep gratitude for allowing me
to meet with you in my rather unique role of minister without
portfolio. Indeed, I am a minister without a country. Of what
am I a minister then? Gentlemen, I am a minister of informa-
tion. You know that we had in the past what we called the Stone
Age, the Bronze Age, the Iron Age and so on. We are now a
part of the Information Age. As with those other ages of the
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past, this one is named for the dominant factor that assures
power and control. Information, gentlemen, information I say,
is the new dominant factor.” Latimer paused for a moment, not
so much to give time to digest what he had said, but to frame
what he was about to say.
"Gentlemen, I am not talking about the information you
have at your fingertips with the Internet and Google or even the
massive depositories of data every government secretly accu-
mulates. People in America used to refer to Google as a force of
nature, as the warehouse for all human knowledge. People said,
only half in jest, that it was like talking to god.” Latimer looked
directly into the eyes of each man before continuing. "Well, I
can tell you, god is not so easily approached. And information
readily available to all is of little value to a certain type of client
who wants to know what others cannot know because,” he
paused, "god has his little secrets, too.”
Latimer stopped and lifted his glass slightly to Zukanov,
who immediately understood the call for another round. Offered
by Zukanov, they could not be refused. Everyone was silent as
they quickly tossed their drinks down.
"And that is why I formed The Network, to uncover god!s
little secrets. Knowledge is strength, and it has kept me alive
since I Ieft my country. The early mission of The Network, un-
der my command, mainly served that purpose, to keep me alive,
one step ahead of my assassins. But over the years, The Net-
work has grown as if with a will of its own. If one believes that
each person on Earth connects to every other person by no more
than six degrees of separation I can tell you the same is also
true when applied to knowledge. A fact here leads to a door

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there, which, when opened, provides a path to yet another door
until you reach the deep, the invisible heart of the Labyrinth.
"I contend it is this deep labyrinth of power that drives de-
cisions that rule the world. And surprising as it may seem, my
Network is the only organization on Earth to have infiltrated,
mapped and engaged with it not from the outside visible world,
but from within its murky depths.”
Bukonovich, evidently agitated by this claim, began to in-
terrupt, then thought better of it. Ivanoff sat stoically, revealing
nothing other than a soft, impatient drumming on the table.
Latimer did not miss this and paused for a moment. "Gen-
tlemen, I see in your faces the question you wish to ask, the
challenge, really, to my claim. When so many nations spend so
much money on intelligence gathering, why do I claim a
knowledge network that goes well beyond what they can ac-
quire with all their resources and all their spending. Surely, you
are thinking, he is not claiming a private company can compete
with them. Yes?”
Bukonovich spoke out, "Da!”
“Good. With all due respect, General, the problem with
your systems is not understanding the problem. By searching
for the head of the snake that does not exist, neither the snake
nor the head, it is inevitable that gathered intelligence will be
misinterpreted or misunderstood. There is no fixed secret cabal
ruling the world. This is not the right thing to be looking for.”
Ivanoff took the bait. "So then, Mr. Vice President, what is
the right thing, as you say? You have our attention, but under-
stand it is easy to make a claim about special knowledge. It is
quite another to support that claim with evidence.”

106


"Ah,” Latimer said, "unlike other intelligence services, my
apologies to you, General Bukonoviich, is the true picture of
the deep Labyrinth with actionable information. And what is the
true picture? Think about what a labyrinth is. It is a structure
with multiple dead ends, but if you know which turn to take in
what order, the one correct path among the many false paths,
you emerge at your desired goal. The strategic difference be-
tween the decorative labyrinth of a royal garden and the deep
Labyrinth of the multinational world is that the destination, the
goal at the deepest level of power, keeps shifting.
"Remember, a snake with no head. And no permanent
snake. Rather, there is a tangled web of financial, commercial,
military, intelligence and political interests. The goal and the
path to that goal evolve by a kind of unconscious synchroniza-
tion, the way, for example, three people sleeping in the same
room over time will begin to breathe at the same rate. That syn-
chronization is the consensus of the deep Labyrinth at any giv-
en time.”
“But how do you know when a consensus is reached and
what it is?” Bukonovich asked.
"Understand, gentlemen, the consensus will change de-
pending on worldwide realities. No one needs to lead or com-
mand the process because the synchronization of interests al-
ways arises from one abiding principle: the commitment to
power.
"With power comes influence and wealth and, to a great
extent, immunity. The deep labyrinth is a world of the near su-
per-rich who never, by definition, suffer negative consequences.
Since they are the driving force for whatever happens, it is al-

107


ways to their advantage. Always. The losers are never part of
the labyrinth of stakeholders. Never.”
General Bukonovich interrupted. "But you have not an-
swered Gospodin Ivanoff!s question. How do you know this
consensus?”
"That is the exceptional strength of The Network. Penetrat-
ing the secrets of the Labyrinth is not about massive sur-
veillance, hoping to get lucky. One is not, after all, looking for
thieves or even terrorists. One is looking for the currently active
goals of stakeholders at the deepest level of power. These are
the people who navigate the labyrinth the way water follows its
natural course.
"The success of The Network is about six degrees of sepa-
ration and frequently less. We well know the wealthiest people
on Earth, and with whom they closely interact. These people
become the first and second levels of our map of the deep
labyrinth. We know those who influence the second level, but
not as well. They make up the third level and they as well have
their confidants and operatives, and so on.
"But this hierarchy does not imply that the convergence of
interests always ends with those at the first level, with the
world!s wealthiest. Those hundred of the world!s wealthiest can
be brought along unwittingly. Since power and wealth often go
hand in hand, the wealthiest, like everyone else, believe they
are running the show. They are not. It is at the level where in-
terests converge that the consensus is to be found, where the
most powerful are to be found.”
General Bukonovich was clearly getting frustrated. "Mon-
ey, power, what!s the difference? Mr. Vice President, the rich
are powerful and the powerful are rich.”
108


"No. They are not the same!” Latimer fairly shouting this.
"Not the same at all, gentlemen, and that!s where you go wrong.
Where you always go wrong.” Latimer was rising from his seat
when he looked at Zukanov and saw a frightened expression on
his face that calmed him instantly.
"If it truly were the rich who run the world behind the
scenes, it would be so easy to discover their secrets, their de-
veloping consensus. We know who they are. There are ways to
penetrate their dreams, their ambitions, their machinations so
they can become even wealthier. The wealthy, in this digital
world where nothing is hidden if you know where to look, are
an open book.
"No, it!s not the super-rich who are the most powerful. It!s
people who use the rich and become invisibly powerful, it is
they who rule the world. They are never at the top level. No,
they are the second, the third, perhaps even the fourth level
from the wealthiest. They are the hands-on people, the people
charged by the wealthy with the power to make things happen.
As long as the wealthy remain wealthy the lower levels of actu-
al power keep their power. Don!t you see? The rich are there
simply to empower the powerful. It!s the power levels you must
penetrate. That is what The Network does.”
General Bukonovich turned away in frustration, contesting
with himself whether or not to rise and end the meeting.
"Be patient, General. I will answer all your questions—
with proof. May I continue?”
Ivanoff looked at the general and gave him a palm down
sign to calm himself. He then turned to Latimer. "Please contin-
ue,” he said.

109


"It is a question of knowing what level you are at, where in
the six degrees you are and which way to move to get one de-
gree closer to the consensus. Each level provides its link to the
next level, if you know how to look. So it does not take hun-
dreds of thousands of people and gigantic depositories of most-
ly useless data. It takes focused, purposeful intelligence goals,
not to stop every act of terrorism or corruption, but to discover
the developing consensus. The Network looks only at the big
picture. It discovers when there is a convergence of interests
forming and at what level and whether to approach from above
or from below. And all this happens in a continually changing
environment. No wonder the traditional intelligence agencies
worldwide are so often blindsided by unexpected events and
alliances. They look for changes in patterns, run vast amounts
of data through filtering algorithms hoping to discover a mean-
ingful trend, but what they find instead is the debris of a con-
sensus already out of date.”
Latimer stopped and, rising from his chair, stepped away
from the table, his back to the door. He rubbed his chin, think-
ing, and walked back and forth silently in front of the door.
Suddenly he stopped and looked sharply at General
Bukonovich.
“You asked, General, how we know what the consensus is.
Our trick, the secret of our success for The Network, is know-
ing all there is to know about the hundred wealthiest people on
Earth, not all there is to know about everyone. Intelligence or-
ganizations like yours, for example, General Bukonovich, look
to stop every bombing, every assassination, every violent
demonstration, spending enormous resources, when in reality,
these events are insignificant. A hundred killed here or there has

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only the power you give to it. Yes, your intelligence organiza-
tions have their successes in thwarting a terrorist attack or un-
covering a rogue banking operation or even an assassination
plot. Even the uncovering of a hostile spy network or its
agents.
"I tell you these successes are not really successes. They
are outliers of very little significance to the Labyrinth. Remem-
ber, the Labyrinth focuses only on the big picture that drives the
current consensus. They never lose because the balance sheet is
always in their favor. The more important question always is:
was the act a part of a larger goal? What is the condition of the
Labyrinth? Who benefits? To what purpose? What is the gov-
erning logic of the actors? This is what we designed the Net-
work to uncover for a fee. For a fee, General, and sometimes
for something else.”
“Yes, yes,” Bukonovich said forcefully, "but how do we
know, Mr. Vice President, that your claims are not idle boast-
ing?”
Latimer came prepared, knowing he would be asked this
question.
"Permit me, General Bukonovich, Gospodin Ivanoff, to
show what The Network offers, what we can do for you if you
subscribe to our service. Consider this a free sample, a taste so
to speak, of what you can expect.”
Bukonovich and Ivanoff looked at each other. Ivanoff
shrugged. They both relaxed back in their chairs waiting to see
what magic, what rabbit the American was planning to pull out
of his hat.
"You are all aware that the drought in Central America is
getting worse. The agricultural implications are severe with

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harvests expected to be less than forty percent of what they
were five years ago even though the population increased by
twenty-three percent. The Russian Federation believes and is
planning for a military coup in Guatemala. The leaders of the
coup, your policy makers believe, will then authorize a full in-
vasion of Mexico to seize farmland that is more productive be-
cause it!s further north than their own. You undoubtedly know
that the most likely leader of such a move would be forty-six-
year-old Colonel Simon Ortiz. However, an older, more mature
Colonel, Colonel Claudio Montalbo, is actually the power be-
hind the plot.
"Montalbo has the financing to carry the plot forward and
to sustain it using money commitments he received from banks
in Colombia and Oman. Those banking commitments must be
off-book, as we say. They made arrangements for the transfers
of money as needed using connections made at the anti-terror-
ism conference held last October in Madrid. However, the actu-
al power behind the coup, facilitating the financial commit-
ments, is the Panglico Corporation, which currently has a one
hundred percent interest in Guatemala!s oil production, pipe-
lines, refining and exporting operations. Colonel Montalbo is
the uncle of Raul Sanchez, a member of the board of Panglico.
Their interest is not political, but in unhindered exploitation of
the Xan oil field in the middle of the Laguna del Tigre National
Park in Guatemala. And Sanchez is, General Bukonovich cor-
rect me if I am wrong, an asset for your Military Counterintelli-
gence Directorate.”
General Bukonovich, a product of his training, gave no
reaction to this outing of his most important asset in Guatemala.
He stared directly at Latimer, his surprise betrayed only by the

112


involuntary twitch of his Adam!s apple. General Ivanoff al-
lowed himself a stifled smile.
"Unfortunately for you, General, these plans will fail.
Quite the opposite, Mexico will invade Guatemala and annex it.
Neither Mexico nor Guatemala are members of The World Fed-
eration, and like the Russian Federation, are not bound by its
charter. What you missed was the convergence of powerful in-
terests that decreed Mexico will be the victor here. Mexican
officials will reveal the Guatemalan invasion plans, plans by the
way acquired by my Network for them for a fee, as justification
for their own invasion. What Mexico gains are all the
Guatemalan oil and mineral assets for itself under the pretext of
preventing a Guatemalan invasion. They also gain control of
the southern border of Guatemala, which they can enforce with
a brutality not so visible as their northern border with the Unit-
ed States.
"By Guatemala allowing itself to be a transit route for food
refugees into Mexico and beyond it promoted intolerable dis-
ruptions not just to the overwhelmed Mexican infrastructure
already collapsing under the struggle to feed its own people, but
to the survival of key Mexican banking interests and, shall we
say, cooperative key politicians. Weighed in the balance, the
consensus was for Mexico to annex Guatemala, especially dur-
ing times as they are now when disadvantaged countries are
growing increasingly desperate and to whom former rules of
international behavior no longer apply.
"So General, I give you fair warning. Mexico will move no
later than three weeks from now. Forewarned is forearmed. This
one is for free. Consider this sharing of intelligence my calling
card and my resume.”

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Grigory Zukanov thought it a well-timed moment to pour
another round of vodka. Silently, the three Russians downed
their shot. Latimer sat back in his chair, sipping his.
Bukonovich, for an instant forgot his training Latimer!s presen-
tation clearly stunned him. Ivanoff sat with the amused smile of
a man who was savoring an "I told you so” moment. For more
than a year he had been warning that borders would be where
wars will either start or be prevented.
Finally, Ivanoff broke the silence.
"Mr. Vice President, you have just used an impressive
number of important names in your demonstration. You clearly
mean to show us your six degrees of separation in practice. And
if your information proves true, foreknowledge of such an
eventuality would be extremely valuable. Assuming your in-
formation is correct, you will have demonstrated well what you
have to offer. What is it then, in return, that you want from
us?”
“For now, Gospodin Ivanoff, I prefer to wait before an-
swering that question.” Latimer said, looking severe suddenly.
Ivanoff assumed Latimer should look pleased. Ivanoff did not
like inappropriate emotions. They almost always led to unantic-
ipated difficulties.
"I prefer to wait until you see that my information is indeed
trustworthy and accurate. Let us agree to meet one month from
now. I wish to thank comrade Zukanov for his effective services
in arranging this meeting. However, I will use another interme-
diary for the next meeting. And another place.”
At that instant, the door to the apartment opened and a
powerful looking young man in workman!s clothing entered. He
drew no surprise or alarm from the Russians. Without introduc-
114


tion, he hurried to General Bukonovich and whispered in his
ear. Latimer became instantly alert. Ivanoff abruptly rose from
his chair.
"My man here informs me that there is a group of Chinese
beginning to form at the western end of the street. It is best if
we adjourn. Mr. Vice President, how will we be in touch?”
Latimer smiled now. "Not to worry, General. I will notify
you in my way.”
"Then, to be continued, gentlemen, one month from now.
Somewhere,” Ivanoff said with a smile.
The group looked around the room to make sure they were
leaving nothing behind. Zukanov even took the vodka bottle
and the glasses, placing them in a net bag he took from his
pocket.
Once regaining the street level and there no longer being a
need for stealth, a car quickly appeared and Sergei Ivanoff and
Yevgeny Bukonovich entered it and sped away. Grigory
Zukanov and Paul Latimer drove away at a more restrained
speed in their rental car. Zukanov dropped Latimer off at the
port where he left Novosibirsk by ship, down the Ob River.
Zukanov continued on to the airport, having completed his mis-
sion.

115

It was James Marshall!s opinion that Mexico was quickly

becoming a failed state. Despite its successful invasion of Gua-
temala, the Mexican central government realized they had
spread their military too thin even to sustain temporary control
of the vast area of Mexico itself plus the additional area com-
prising Guatemala. Intelligence reports he had seen showed a
relentless decline in control of the greater part of Mexico by the
central government in Mexico City. Even in Mexico City, satel-
lite photographs showed vast tent cities overrunning the sub-
urbs. These makeshift cities reportedly suffocated the social
services support infrastructure and swamped law enforcement
services, which had mostly abandoned attempts to protect the
residents within the tent cities.
The vast majority beyond the reach of the central govern-
ment had succumbed to control by local warlords. The border
states of southern Mexico—Chiapas, Tabasco and Campeche—
were virtually #killing zones!$for Mexican police and military to
suppress border gangs. Brisk illegal gun sales from Honduran
suppliers easily and profitably armed the gangs. Whoever had
the most guns locally was in charge along the Mexico/Gua-
temala border on either side. Mexican authorities were in stiff
competition with these gangs.
The Guatemala invasion by Mexico permitted the rounding
up of tens of thousands of squatters and illegal immigrants into
that country. Mexican officials were trucking these people from
temporary detention centers to the Guatemala/Honduras border
and summarily expelling them into Honduras. The Honduran

116


officials were unprepared to resist this, and the refugee problem
shifted from Mexico!s northern border with the US to its new
southern border with Honduras. James did not expect this state
of affairs to persist without eventually a serious push back by
Honduras.
James expected the concentration of Mexican military as-
sets to the south to result in a further degradation of central
government authority in the Mexican north. Mexico was, in
James!s view, experiencing the last gasp of a viable national
government. The rapid loss of control did not bode well, he
thought. A three thousand two hundred kilometer border with a
failed state portended dire future consequences for the United
States.
The non-Hispanic militias had already abandoned the US/
Mexico border to the overwhelmingly Hispanic local popula-
tion. Hispanic militias replaced the white militias. So far, no
militia had challenged the authority of the US federal govern-
ment in the southern states. So Far. But James knew that all it
would take was to seize control of Interstate 10 running parallel
to the Mexican/US border, and it would sever the whole of
southern Texas from the rest of the state—and the rest of the
country.
***
James occupied his usual preferred window seat. As the
plane approached Del Rio International Airport, he recognized
the distinctive semicircular terminal building. The airport
earned its international status not because of huge jets arriving
from faraway foreign lands, but because of its proximity to the
Mexican border. It was the small but numerous cross border

117


traffic between the US and Mexico that earned it the label #in-
ternational.!
As James made his way through the front exit door of the
United Airlines Astrocruiser, he had the almost alarming sensa-
tion of entering a burning world. The jet passenger compart-
ment was air-conditioned, and he knew he would be comfort-
able in the air-conditioned terminal as well. But the jetway was
not, and an invisible punch of heat immediately struck him. He
moved as quickly as he could to enter the make-believe world
of the terminal. He knew that eventually he would have to leave
the terminal but reassured himself that the rental car also would
be air-conditioned, as would the spotter plane he intended to
engage once he got settled in a room at a hotel in Del Rio.
Thank god for Mr. Carrier, he thought.
Waiting on line at the car rental kiosk, James thought about
Willis Carrier, the man who invented air conditioning in 1902
and made commercial and residential development possible in
so many otherwise inhospitable southern locations. In the
southern border states and in the states bordering the Gulf of
Mexico air conditioning went from a luxury to a necessity to, in
the age of global warming, a fantasy, creating islands of relief
in the otherwise relentless, year round furnace that the outside
world had become.
The first landmark James would fly over would be the
Amistad Reservoir. Melting snow from the San Juan Mountains
of southwestern Colorado was the source of water for the Rio
Grande. It was this water that filled the reservoir. And once
again the same problem being experienced worldwide was evi-
dent at the Amistad Reservoir. The mountain snows that melted
slowly and maintained the summer flow of the Rio Grande now

118


saw only winter rain. Unhappily, the rain quickly drained into
the soil, allowing the Rio Grande to run dry by mid-summer,
never making it to the sea.
The Amistad Dam, built in 1969, was responsible for the
reservoir behind it, comprising almost 7 cubic kilometers of
water. Once again, an alarming drop in water level threatened
another hydroelectric plant with a loss of generating capability.
Here, one hundred and thirty megawatts of hydroelectric power
was at risk. The reservoir also provided for agricultural water
storage and for flood control. Losing water for irrigation was a
serious threat to the already marginal production of yet another
farming region. The drought threatened cattle ranchers as well,
with herd populations down forty percent from their numbers
only two years earlier.
Having secured a rental car, James phoned the pilot of the
spotter plane he would use to survey the dam and the reservoir.
Teh Federation ad already completed satellite surveillance of
the region, so James did not expect any surprises. But you never
know, thought. Anyway, his principal mission was to assess the
political situation in the region. That would take time. And car
miles.
He phoned Sylvia to let her know that he arrived safely
and expected to be in Del Rio at least four or five days, assess-
ing the mood at the border.
After an uninteresting ride from the airport, James arrived
at the Hampton Inn on North Bedell Avenue. It was by far the
nicest hotel in a decaying Del Rio. Surrounded by a flat, barren
landscape, touched here and there with cactus and sagebrush
typical of the desert, the town groped bravely to arouse a face
of relevance. Nevertheless, he asked himself the same question
he asked when visiting virtually every border town. What made
119


people want to live or stay in these relentlessly hot, joyless
towns with pretensions of cityhood? He never found a satisfac-
tory answer.
James found the desert depressing. He was a mountain,
field and stream man. In every desert he had traveled through,
in California, Arizona, Nevada, New Mexico and now Texas, he
found the same vast expanses of nothing, interrupted by small,
isolated villages appearing just frequently enough to conjure
again the picture of their bleak isolation. It seemed to Marshall
here was no sensible reason for their existence other than that
the people living there forgot to leave.
Like lichen clinging to rocks, these little, tenuous clusters
of communities, with their scattered trailers and trash and bro-
ken down machinery, seemed to him living monuments to hu-
man inertia. There was no proper business to sustain them, so
they survived in a kind of circular economy with almost noth-
ing entering from outside, each living off the other, each pro-
viding some small good or service the other could use. The
people living in these insignificant zombie towns could only
have been, by James!s reckoning, those born there or left behind
by the others who managed to escape. They had no significance
to the politics of this land. They were simply human clutter,
providing gasoline to allow those just passing through to move
on.
James Marshall shocked himself. He wondered how and
when he became so cynical?
James knew there must once have been another, powerful,
unseen aspect to this world off the main roads, beyond these
failed scrap heaps, out of sight to those just passing through.
There were the big corporate farms and ranches with their water

120


rights to aquifers and access to cheap labor that now lived most-
ly on borrowed time.
It was from these ranchers and farmers that the militias his-
torically drew their all-white members. But now they were
mostly gone. The aquifers—the magic desert water that created
communities out of thin air, sand and dust—were almost gone
as well. The white population got the message that their time
was up and mostly moved on.
In this part of Texas, only those supplied with water for
irrigation and drinking by the Amistad Reservoir remained, the
last bastion of non-Hispanic population along this part of the
Texas border with Mexico. Everywhere else was heavily His-
panic, both legal and illegal.
In fact, James, along with everyone else, had given up the
#illegal!$designation almost a decade ago. It was a pointless dis-
tinction promoted by laws that were no longer enforced, even
symbolically, and so without relevance. Now the militias drew
from the next-wave replacement Hispanic population. The au-
thority over the border had become more and more unclear, the
physical border itself consisting more of holes and tunnels than
wire and concrete.
***
James checked in and took the elevator to his second-floor
room. He thought he might take a quick nap, but he had arrived
at the Hampton Inn a little later than planned and wanted to be-
gin speaking with the locals as soon as possible. Tonight he
would walk around downtown Del Rio. Tomorrow, he decided,
he would take the spotter plane to survey the region more wide-
ly. After that he would follow Route 90 west from Del Rio for
several days toward El Paso, a distance of about six hundred

121


kilometers and more or less parallel to the Mexican border. Pre-
sidio would be the only large city he would pass before reach-
ing El Paso.
Going east instead from Del Rio, the border towns would
be more numerous, more populated and better understood. No,
it was going west toward El Paso where the mystery lay. His
mission lay in assessing the temperature of the people of the
long, worrisome westward stretch between the US and Mexico.
***
A tire blew on James!s car on the stretch of US 90, just
west of Marfa passing through the foothills of the Davis Moun-
tains. It was an isolated section of road in the middle of the
Chihuahuan Desert. His car had a spare tire in the trunk, but it
was a pitch black, moonless night and James did not have a
flashlight. Although there was a flashlight in James!s telephone,
he felt too exposed on the side of the road. He immediately re-
gretted not having taken a colleague with him or arranged for a
security detail for safety!s sake, as Sylvia had urged before he
left. Careless, careless, careless, he thought. He called the state
police for assistance.
Assured that help would arrive in less than a half hour,
James opened the trunk and disconnected the spare tire from the
latch holding it securely. He took it out of the trunk and sat on
it after placing it behind the car. It was a cloudless night and the
sky was awash with stars made even more impressive without
moon light. There was very little traffic so with the trunk light
off when he closed the lid the desert sky was visible in a way
impossible for city dwellers to experience.
Whenever a car approached in either direction, James be-
came alert, hoping it was the roadside assistance dispatched by

122


the state police. After each car sped by, James would relax back
onto his seat on the tire. One car that passed him slowed and
turned around. Finally, he thought, help has arrived.
The car crossed the centerline of the road and pulled in
front of his car. James noticed right away that there were no
markings on the vehicle, nothing to show it was other than a
private car. It was, however, an old and still impressive for
these parts Chinese hybrid, the BYD Tang. When three young
Hispanic men got out, he immediately felt anxious, worrying
that this might not end well. One man stood by the front of his
car while the other two men moved toward him at the rear of
the car.
James stood up and faced the two approaching men. He
waited to hear what they had to say. Both men wore jeans,
boots and plaid checkered shirts. The taller of the two wore a
dark neckerchief and had a wide mustache and an angular face.
He had a trim, athletic body and appeared to be in his mid-
twenties. The shorter man had no neckerchief or mustache and
was stout, appearing older to James, perhaps in his late thirties.
He wore an over-size cowboy hat and had a hunting knife in a
sheath hanging from his belt.
James could just make out the man in the front of his car.
Although he had stepped to the side, out of the beam projected
by the headlights of their car pointed toward James!s car, there
was sufficient reflected light for James to get a reasonably clear
look. He dressed more or less the same as his other compan-
ions, but he had rolled his sleeves up. James could not make out
the details, but he could see a sleeve tattoo on his right arm. He
was wearing a cowboy hat with a band that had a large white
feather stuck in it. He stood motionless and expressionless.

123


Of the two men approaching James, the taller man smiled,
but the other man continued walking slowly until he was behind
James. The tall man spoke first, but in Spanish. James could
remember very little of his high school Spanish, but enough to
say his name and that he did not understand what was just said
to him. The tall man continued smiling, but turned to the man in
front of the car and said something in Spanish to him. The two
men laughed. James began moving sideways, toward the grass,
beyond the shoulder of the road, attempting to get both men in
sight, but the man behind him just shifted over with him.
James did not believe that they didn!t speak any English.
He pivoted slowly sideways to get both men in view and said,
"Sorry men. I don!t speak Spanish.” He accompanied this with
the universal hand gesture—palms up, fingers extended—signi-
fying "I don!t get it.” The two men near him then began to
speak to each other again in Spanish.
"Blew a tire, but no flashlight. Do any of you speak any
English?”
The tall one spoke up in a heavy Spanish accent, "A little.”
"Great. I called for help, but with you here, if you would
help me with the lights from your car, I could probably fix the
tire before the state police get here.”
James maintained a steady, friendly tone of voice, making
strong eye contact with the tall man. However, the man in front
of his car walked to the driver!s side window and looked inside,
front seat and back. The shorter man behind him walked over to
the open trunk of the car and looked carefully inside. It was
empty except for the small overnight bag James had taken for
his border survey travels.

124


The shorter man looked at the taller man and shook his
head. The tall man turned to James and asked, "What is in the
suitcase?”
James looked at him silently without answering. After a
while, the tall man took a step toward James. James quickly
asked, "Why do you want to know? What business is that to
you?”
The tall man stood silently assessing James. Then he asked
again, "What is in the suitcase?”
James ignored his question. "Look if you!re not going to
help me, then I!ll just wait for the state police to arrive. They
are coming and it won!t be long.”
The tall man took another step toward James. "Where is
your money?” he asked. The man near the front of James!s car
by this time had moved next to the tall man. "Come on, gringo.
Where is your money?” he asked impatiently.
No one had displayed any weapons, James thought, but
this will clearly be a robbery.
"Who carries cash? I have maybe fifty dollars. Everything I
need, I use a credit card. You want my fifty dollars? Here! Take
it.” He reached into his side trouser pocket to retrieve his wal-
let. As he reached into his pants, he saw out of the corner of his
eye the short man by the open trunk lunge at him. The last thing
James Marshall remembered was the man swinging at him and
him trying to deflect the blow. At the same instant, he experi-
enced a blinding blow to his face from the direction of the tall
man. Then nothing.
***
The flashing light of the road assistance truck pulled James
from a deep place of unconsciousness, upward toward aware-
125


ness, slowly. He remembered being struck a hard blow to the
side of his head and slowly he began to think again.
He did not move, but realized he was lying prone on the
ground, his head on the pebbled shoulder of the road. He saw
the emergency truck lights flashing and two men standing near
the vehicle. Gradually he recognized one man to be the tall
Hispanic who knocked him unconscious. The other was evi-
dently the driver of the road assistance vehicle.
The side of James!s face felt on fire from the blow he re-
ceived. He tried to get up, but one of the tall man!s companions
pushed him back down with his boot. When James turned to see
who was keeping him down, he saw it was the man with the
sleeve tattoo. He had placed his foot on James!s back to keep
him down. James turned to the driver of the emergency truck
and called out, "Can you help me? I don!t know these men.
Help!”
Suddenly the man with his foot on James took a step back
and kicked him in the ribs. Hard. Lights immediately flashed in
his brain, blocking out all other sensations, even pain. But the
pain did come, and it took his breath away. The man who
kicked him waited next to him, watching for James!s breath to
return, then he motioned to James to be silent. Everyone was
silent.
The truck driver gathered his tools and moved to James!s
car. He did not look at James or at the other men. As if there
was no else present, he quickly replaced the flat tire with the
spare. When he was done, he gathered his tools and walked
back to his truck, got in and drove away without saying a word
or acknowledging James lying on the ground.

126


In the meantime, the third man had taken James!s travel
case from the trunk and searched through it. James!s wallet was
lying on the ground next to the travel case. The tall man, the
apparent leader of the group, said to James, "So, gringo, you are
an important man. You work for The World Federation. What
are you doing here in my country? Are you a spy?”
The man holding James down with his foot stepped aside
to let him sit up. When he tried to stand, the man pushed James
back down to a sitting position.
"What do you mean, your country? I don!t understand.
We!re in Texas,” James said.
The man standing beside James forcefully kicked him in
the side again. James rolled in pain, his breath gone again. After
a few moments, when the pain no longer stole his breath, he
thought, Goddam, they!re going to kill me. He remained silent,
not knowing what was going on or what these men wanted.
"We will tell you where you are. You are in New Texas and
you have no business here and no permission. You are in deep
shit, amigo. There is no help for you. Do not expect that driver
to get help for you. He is here because we let him be here. The
police are not here because we do not allow them to be here.
So, once again, why are you here?”
James looked back at the man with the sleeve tattoo, think-
ing how best to proceed.
"If you are looking for another excuse to kick me, I will
say nothing.”
Instantly, the man kicked him again in the same side. This
time he felt the distinct snap of a rib breaking. James lost con-
sciousness and fell onto his side. Slowly he revived, but his
body was bent double and his eyes were tearing from the pain.
127


The man who kicked him said something to the tall man in
Spanish. The tall man turned to James. "I think it is best if you
just answer my questions. Yes? Why are you here?”
Talking was now painful, because breathing had become
significantly painful, but James had no choice. "You saw my
credentials. My wallet is right there.” He stopped to take a
breath. "I am a field agent for The World Federation. They sent
here me to survey the border, to determine the political senti-
ment—the wishes—of the people on the Texas side of the bor-
der.” James stopped again and took a few breaths before he
could continue. "And the economic conditions. Any suffering or
hardship. We want to help. So why are you treating me like
this?”
"First, crazy man, there is no more #Texas side of the bor-
der.!$There is no Texas border. We are the border. We tell you if
you can come or go. And you cannot come. And now you can-
not go. ¿Comprendes?”
"What do you mean #I cannot go?!$How is anyone to know
about the rules here without someone like me coming here?”
"No, my friend. This is a good way for your people to find
out. Maybe they want you back, no? What do you think? Do
they want you back, hombre? Yes? No?”
James realized now this would be some kind of extortion,
and he was to blame. They did not kidnap him. He walked right
into this mess and they would obviously take advantage of his
carelessness.
The world being the violent place it had become because
of so many desperate people, he and Sylvia had often talked
about the risks of his travels. Usually, a Delta Force team, the
best of the best, had his back. In almost every place he visited,
128


it comforted him knowing they were there even if he didn!t see
them.
Fully aware of the need for caution and preparation, he
rushed this trip anyway. It was his own fault. He wanted to get
the trip out of the way so he could be home for Sylvia!s birth-
day. He wanted to buy her an emerald ring for her fortieth
birthday. She loved emeralds. And he found exactly what he
was looking for in a shop in the Panjiayuan Flea Market in Bei-
jing. With over 3000 vendors, he had been confident he could
find what he wanted, and he did. The ring was of Russian ori-
gin, an estate piece with a two-and-a-half karat bright green
emerald with just enough imperfections to make it tirelessly
interesting. Diamond chips in a filigree, yellow gold setting sur-
rounded the emerald. It was magnificent.
He couldn!t wait to see Sylvia!s expression when she
opened the little box and because of that, he was careless in his
trip preparation and did not follow the protocols. It was just
Texas. #What could go wrong?!$he foolishly thought at the time.
Now he and perhaps others will have to pay for his stupidity.
He assumed his protection team scrambled quickly and
deployed when they discovered he had left on his own and
without notice. But how much time was lost picking up his trail
the hard way, playing catch up, because of his own stupidity?
He regretted he didn!t have a military mentality or discipline.
He was not cut out to be a field agent. He was a trained scien-
tist, for goodness sakes. And a journalist. James Marshall, not
James Bond.
Yet here he was. A prisoner. Beaten pretty soundly, with no
idea how badly except for the bolt of pain with every breath.
His only hope was the knowledge that the Delta Force was
129


much better at this than he was. Yet, would they find him?
Could they rescue him without getting him killed?
He used to joke with Sylvia that all the traveling he did for
the Federation did not bother him because before each flight he
would mentally give himself up for dead to begin with. So
nothing worse could happen. While this did give him some
comfort, it didn!t seem to keep Sylvia from worrying.
Right now he just wanted to lie down and sleep, his energy
completely drained.
Seeing that James was no longer responding, the tall man
gestured to his friends. The next thing James knew, one man
covered his eyes with a bandana. They lifted him up and placed
onto the back seat of their car, pushing him down so he was ly-
ing along the seat, not visible from the outside.
The pain in James!s jaw and ribs kept him from breathing
during the transfer, his only goal during that process being to
survive. He knew that pain was more a warning and not life
threatening by itself. Could be, but he was not spitting up
blood. That provided some comfort. Once he was lying down,
he was able to catch his breath. The previous talk of holding
him for some kind of ransom convinced him they did not intend
to kill him. There being nothing he could do at the moment, as
the car drove off he gave in to his exhaustion, closed his mind
and went to sleep.
James awoke as soon as the car stopped. There seemed to
him to be a kind of ‘checkpoint!$conversation between the dri-
ver and a man at the driver!s window. When the car moved
again, he heard crunching gravel followed for a longer stretch
on what seemed to him a mildly rutted dirt road. He inferred
they were going more and more remote.

130


When the car came to an eventual stop, the front doors
opened and the two men got out. They opened the back door of
the Tang and pulled him out. Pain shot through his left side. He
imagined this is what a bullet would feel like at the moment of
impact. With every lurching motion, the pain came like a flash
of fire and then only slowly ebbed away. He knew nothing
much could help broken ribs except painkiller and time.
Still blindfolded, a guard led him on by pushed him from
behind. With the help of his #guide!$he maneuvered into a build-
ing and moved forward until pulled to a stop. His guide stopped
him, turned him toward the wall of the corridor and removed
his bandana. James faced a door opening into what was evident-
ly a detention cell. It had a cot and one window covered with a
sheet of plywood. The door had only a small slit.
James knew there was no point in asking questions. The
man either would not understand or, anyway, not answer. As in
a dream he only partly accepted, he saw his one option, espe-
cially if he wanted to avoid beatings, was to do as he was told.
Without warning, the man behind him gave him a forceful
blow to his kidney, followed by a shove into the cell as he fell,
bent over in pain. He lost consciousness before his face hit the
dirt floor.
***
"Sylvia, we will get James back. I promise you. Safe and
sound.”
President Lal tried to sound positive and optimistic on the
phone, but the situation was complicated. Lal knew the US
President was about to crack down on their southern border vio-
lations. For the Federation to get James back before President
Llewelyn took action, they would have to move fast.

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Lal decided Bert McEldridge would be ideal to manage a
mission to rescue James Marshall. As a former Director of the
National Security Agency, he had a fertile working relationship
with the US intelligence community. With him already working
in secret on the Nemesis Project, another level of secrecy would
not be a problem. He planned to have McEldridge work on a
side project to track down Paul Latimer and neutralize him, but
now this must come first.
The US border-states had become more and more an intel-
ligence mystery. Food refugee pressure was building and build-
ing. Deploying Federation resources there without angering the
Americans, sovereignty and all that, could be turned to advan-
tage if handled right. Lal decided rescuing James Marshall
might not just be a challenge, but an opportunity as well.
***
James had no way of determining how long he had lain on
the floor before he managed to crawl to the cot. Every move
sent shock waves of pain through his chest. Lying on the cot, he
did a kind of rib inventory by gently feeling down his chest on
both sides. It was only on his left side that he felt pain, but he
could not determine if they broke just one or several ribs. He
had no doubt there was a break and not just a bruise. The pain
of breathing was too intense. Wherever else he could touch or
whatever part he could move seemed to be sore, but okay.
He remembered reading somewhere that the first obliga-
tion of a prisoner of war was to escape. Well, he wasn!t a pris-
oner of war, he reasoned, but he was certainly a prisoner of
some kind. That!s for sure. He tried first calling for help.
"Hello! I need help. Hello!” he yelled over and over as best
he could between carefully organized breaths. No one came. At

132


first, he thought he might be alone. They might simply have
brought him here to scare him and then taken off. He listened
carefully and was disappointed to hear sounds of activity—very
low but clearly there—outside his door and outside the boarded
window. He stopped shouting.
Okay, then it will have to be escape. But how? In the
movies, it always looked so easy. While he was trying to think
about what resources he had and what opportunities, his body
had other plans for coping with his situation. Once again he
drifted into unconsciousness.
When he awoke, he found that his eyes had adjusted to the
darkness. He saw by the light entering the room from the slit in
the door and from the slight opening beneath the door that a
tray with a bowl and a spoon lay on the floor. It annoyed him
that he had not been awake when they brought food. He missed
an opportunity to get information. Surely, he reasoned, they all
spoke some English and just pretended not to. Well, next time.
He found he could not, without help, get up and walk to
the door. However, by slowly dragging his body, he could get
off the cot and into an upright position. He slowly approached
the tray on the floor. He couldn!t tell in the low light if it was
chili or a thick soup in the bowl, but at least it was food.
He looked at the tray, studying how to bend down to pick it
up. Finally, he dropped first to one knee and then to the other.
He was able easily then to take hold of the tray, but getting up
again while holding the tray or even just the bowl, he decided,
was simply beyond his capability at the moment. He sank to a
sitting position on the floor and ate right there what turned out
to be chili.

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"Not bad,” he said out loud, vocalizing his thoughts and
strengthened by the food. "I can do this.” Trying to maintain a
sense of humor, he said aloud once again, "I!ve always liked
Mexican food.”
Except for the possible occasional beating, which he ac-
cepted long ago as a possibility associated with his job, he no
longer feared that his life was in danger. They would gain noth-
ing by killing him. But what did they want? Who are these guys
and how many of them are there?
By now, he knew, Federation officials would miss him. At-
tempts to contact him would have failed, and whether or not
these guys contacted the Federation, his people would know he
was in trouble. And Federation management would have in-
formed Sylvia of the situation. She may even have been the first
to raise an alarm when she did not receive his usual call. What
would they do? What could she do?
He was most upset about how Sylvia would suffer through
all this. He knew she was strong and would #keep the faith!$that
the Federation would do everything to save him. But that faith,
he knew, could not erase completely the dread of loss that
seemed always to be a lurking companion to love.
James finished his food and carefully stood up again. He
walked several turns around his cell and then lay down. He kept
his mind busy by naming the states and their capitals and then
the countries, with their capitals. After what he judged to be #a
good long time!$he fell asleep.
When he awoke, he saw that the food tray was gone, re-
placed by a steel bedpan. Evidently they did not want him leav-
ing the cell for any reason. Just as well, he thought, considering

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his state of exhaustion. It didn!t help his morale not knowing
the passage of time.
Suddenly, his cell door was flung open, filling the room
with light from the hallway. A guard toggled a switched and the
ceiling light in his cell came to life, illuminating the corners of
the room not touched by the hallway light. A man entered. He
was short, stooped over, with gray hair, perhaps five feet, six
inches, wearing rumpled brown pants, shoes with no socks and
a stained white shirt. He carried a black leather doctor!s bag.
***
August 3, 2042
I don!t know what he was thinking. Marshall took off for
Del Rio without telling us. All hell broke loose. The CO went
ape shit when he found out. Everybody in his protective detail
got called up and transportation arranged PDQ to get to Texas
and track him down. A guy named McEldridge, some suit in the
World Federation pecking order, seems to have the ball and get-
ting us whatever we need. We ship out in 40 mins at 0920.

August 3, 2042
Arrived in Del Rio, now 1210. There!s 20 of us, including
Captain Keiber. We!ll rendezvous five miles west of Marfa. We
got intel from the state police that last night Marshall made a
call requesting road assistance. Car broke down or something.
Tow truck was sent and Cap is interviewing the driver at the
airport.

August 3, 2042
1330 Accomplished rendezvous. Will switch from 2 per car
to 4 per car when we begin pursuit. We got a good lead from
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the road assistance driver. Some coyote gang members grabbed
Marshall. It creates a problem, though. It!s a gang and not
some random assholes. But we may not need help. Maybe. De-
pends on the size of their encampment. The truck driver evi-
dently knows approximately where they hang their hats on the
US side of the border, but not how many people are there. We
must have enough info because Captain Keiber told us we have
enlisted US drones to find the exact location given the driver!s
intel.

August 3, 2042
1700 Drones located the encampment. We are awaiting a
weapons delivery helicopter. Rendezvous location is suitable for
a clandestine mission. Isolated. The help will get here after
dark, about 2130. We!ll get our weapons and we!ll head out.
The coyote encampment is about 50 clicks from here, so it
shouldn!t take us long to get there.

August 4, 2042
2017 Camouflage tents up. Cars removed. Bedded down
about two clicks from the encampment. Four-man recon group
is out gathering intel on headcount, weaponry, placement, etc.
Captain Keiber will have a plan by morning.

August 4, 2042
0640 Finished meeting with Cap. He has called for help as
the encampment is bigger than expected. A squad of US
marines, about 20 men, will join up tomorrow after dark.
Meanwhile recon will continue. With the pending arrival of the

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marine squad, this will set back the rescue timetable by a day
days, maybe two.

August 5, 2042
2230 Met with the marine sergeant. Sergeant Sedgewood.
He seems like a friendly guy and his men are well trained and
serious and will be easy to work with. With the size of our en-
campment getting bigger, it will be increasingly difficult to keep
hidden, so I suspect we will jump off soon, ready or not.

August 6, 2042
0730 Well, they decided for us. A small caravan left the
encampment, and our recon team spotted Marshall being
moved with it. Captain Keiber says we will let the US drones
mark their route for us and we!ll follow at night. Cap figures
they!re taking him to the other side of the wall into Mexico. This
is turning into an interesting intel operation. They have no rea-
son to harm Marshall, we hope. So Cap says we!ll follow and
see where they take us. Big shots are evidently going along
with Cap!s plan. For sure the coyotes intend to use him to extort
something or other. Like I said, this could get real interesting.

August 8, 2042
0742 Sheeit! They led us right to a big motherfucking
compound in the Sierra Madre Mountains. Cap says we will
stand down until the recon patrols have a better idea just how
big and how well manned and armed. We are not just jumping
in here. This has rapidly turned into a more complex operation
but also a potential intel bonanza.

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August 9, 2042
0630 Cap filled us in on what the drones, satellite photos
and recon teams have come up with. The compound is almost
40 hectares with a population of roughly 200 men. They have
standard issue rifles and officers have automatic weapons.
There are eight watchtowers with 50-caliber machine guns in
each tower, two along each fenced border. Men and dogs heavi-
ly patrol the perimeter. We!ve worked up a map of the place and
located which building has Marshall. Cap and the marine ser-
geant are working up a plan, but I!m sure this place will be cap-
tured rather than destroyed. Whatever, everything will have to
go real fast if we want to get Marshall out alive.

August 10, 2042

0415 I!ll be in the first action to rescue and remove Mar-
shall to safety. We!ll be a group of six. Taking out the perimeter
men and dogs, we!ll work our way into the compound and over
to the detention building we labeled B-14. We!ll use the mush-
room spray that works so well putting any other dogs off our
scent. There are four armed guards outside the building and
three more inside, lightly armed with pistols only. We!ll take
care of the outside guards, probably with knives, but we!ll have
handguns with silencers as well. Inside guards will be taken out
quickly, almost certainly with silenced handguns. We!ll extract
Marshall and remove him as quickly as possible to a position
outside the perimeter. We figure it!ll take about 20 minutes to
complete the rescue part of the mission. After that the main
event will begin:
1. Take out the eight watchtowers simultaneously with RPGs

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2. We’re counting on that rousing the camp and bringing all
able-bodied men out into the open to repel an attack.
3. We will allow three minutes for the compound defenses to
muster outside before drones drop BLU anti-personnel
fragmentation bombs. These are REALLY bad boys.
They’ll spray the entire compound with shrapnel. Anyone
above ground and in the open will pretty much be dead.
Very effective. We’re figuring 50 to 60 percent of the de-
fenders will be taken out almost immediately.
4. Following stage 3, the marines and the rest of our forces
will storm the compound and kill or capture whoever is
still standing indoors. If possible, we want to capture of-
ficers alive and minimize destruction of buildings and
records. I will return to action with the group securing
building B-8.
5. The operation will begin one hour before sunrise today at
0530.

August 10,2042
1530 What a freakin!$ light show that turned out to be.
Bombs and rockets going off, tracers criss-crossing everywhere
in the pre-dawn darkness. Our guys shouting their heads off,
scaring the crap out of anyone still standing in the compound
or in the buildings. The anti-personnel bombs worked even bet-
ter than we expected. We knocked off maybe 80% of the defend-
ers in that stage of the attack. I!ve seen these bombs used once
before and it is a positive shit storm for anyone out in the open
and that!s just the way it is. You just die.
We got Mr. Marshall out with no casualties. He was beat
up a bit, a couple of busted ribs and a cracked jaw, but nothing

139


life threatening. The rest of the operation went as planned with
3 lightly wounded marines and 2 of our forces also lightly
wounded.
The place was a fucking goldmine of intelligence. We cap-
tured several officers. Documents were unbelievable. Maps giv-
ing the locations of all the tunnels under the wall for pretty
much all of West Texas, personnel lists, organization charts,
supply routes, bank accounts, you name it. Cap figures this
group was probably responsible for maybe a hundred thousand
illegal entries into the United States per month just for West
Texas.
Cap was all smiles and so was Sergeant Sedgewood. The
sergeant told us they made a simultaneous raid on the Texas
compound where Marshall was originally held. US airborne
forces took that compound and shut it down. They also got
valuable intel.
I would say it was a bad fucking day for these guys when
James Marshall stumbled into their clutches.
***
Bert McEldridge sat beside Ranjit Lal on a bench in Jing-
shan Park. For several moments they simply stared silently at
the magnificent, panoramic view of Beijing that each of the five
peaks in the park offered to visitors.
Lal broke the silence.
"A beautiful day, Bert, is it not? So much better once in a
while to discuss business surrounded by beauty.”
"As you say, Mr. President. A beautiful day.”
"Well, it is a wonderful backdrop to the success of your
mission. I could not have asked for a more expeditious and
competent management of what might have been a tragic de-

140


velopment. You did a marvelous job as did the men under your
direction.”
"Thank you, sir. President Llewelyn must be pretty happy
with the intelligence that we turned over to the marine sergeant.
Basically, copies of everything. We turned over the captives as
well.”
"I couldn!t be more thrilled myself. A splendid operation.
We!ll have to come up with something to placate the Mexican
president about our military operation in his territory, but Presi-
dent Llewelyn and I will deal with that.”
Lal paused for a moment, fully absorbing the positive out-
come of the mission. The extended timeline for intelligence
gathering purposes put James Marshall!s life at greater risk, but
it was an opportunity Lal could not pass up. If the mission had
gone badly, the blame would have surely fallen squarely on Lal.
Having gone well, however, Lal felt entitled, he told himself,
for an internal victory lap of self-congratulations. Outwardly he
showed nothing so personal.
"Bert, what is Mr. Marshall!s location and condition at this
moment?” Lal asked.
“He!s on a medevac plane out of San Diego, heading for
home in Beijing. He received some modest medical attention
while a captive and, of course, more complete attention once
we had him, which is continuing on his flight home. Nothing
too serious. In about a month he should be good as new.”
"That!s excellent news. Has Mrs. Marshall been informed
yet?”
"No, sir. I figured you would want to tell her yourself be-
fore she spoke with her husband.”

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"That was very thoughtful of you, Bert. I made her a prom-
ise. I want to tell her I kept it.”
"I thought there might be something like that, Mr. Presi-
dent.”
President Lal reached for his phone and called his secre-
tary. "Gladys, I am on my way back to the office. Please call
Sylvia Marshall and ask her to come to my office. Tell her I
have an update for her. Yes, just that I have an update.”

142

For the first three years the wall along the entire border
between Mexico and the United States had done its job well
beyond expectations. It was two rows of six meter high cyclone
fencing with razor wire on top running in front of and parallel
to a solid wall, also six meters high, with motion and sound
sensors every 50 meters connected to a computerized monitor-
ing system that could pinpoint unusual activity or a breach. Any
breach would start an immediate airborne response. The air-
borne response was to put troops on the ground to round up the
perpetrators for brief detention and then a trip back to Mexico.
During the detention period, permanent tattoos would be placed
on the inside of their bicep muscle. Capture again would mean
imprisonment in the US instead of returned to Mexico. While
the wall did not stop all illegal crossings into the United States,
it dramatically reduced the number to less than fifteen percent
of its former level of about a half a million illegal crossings into
the United States per month.
Then conditions changed for the worse five years ago
when desperate, starving people began crossing the border in
large numbers as before, overwhelming the border guardians
once again.
Extreme weather, an expected consequence of global
warming, was hitting Central American countries with devastat-
ing effect to agricultural production. The further south from
Mexico, the worse it got. Harvests in Guatemala, Honduras and
Nicaragua no longer sufficed to feed their people. Because of
the continuing drought in the united States mid-west and west
143


coast, food aid and food sales from the United States had large-
ly disappeared due to smaller harvests. The World Federation
program to coordinate the introduction of modern farming
techniques designed to mitigate the effects of climate change
had proved ineffective. Local corruption overwhelmed the
switch to more drought and heat resistant crops.
The attempt to supplement the diets of the populations of
these countries by expanding fishing fleets was proving unsuc-
cessful as one fishing ground after another became either over-
fished or a dead zone due to rising water temperature and acidi-
fication. With the decline of both reliable food sources, along
with a decline in most of the regional economies, crime became
the most widespread social epidemic in the Americas. Honduras
became the epicenter for weapons sales. Illegal aliens were
simply importing crime along with them, much like Morley!s
chains rattling and clanging behind them.
President Llewelyn decided five years earlier, as the wall
became less and less effective as a barrier, that he must take
more painful but necessary action. The president had ordered
the military to move swiftly and comprehensively along the en-
tire border with Mexico. They established guard posts every ten
kilometers, ready to respond to sensors detecting cross-border
activity. Those captured attempting to enter the US illegally,
even for the first time, would be incarcerated rather than de-
ported. Imprisonment in large internment camps had long ago
been authorized by the continuing extensions of the powers of
the Executive branch, first asserted in Executive Order 13603,
signed by then President Barack Obama in 2012. The period of
detention was to be five years followed by deportation.

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"The revolving-door crossings by the same persons have to
stop,” President Llewelyn declared at the time, justifying the
establishment of internment camps. The message was heard
loud and clear. The president often said about his decision that
the United States simply could no longer tolerate illegal entry
into the country.
That was five years ago, but conditions had changed since
then. President Llewelyn believed the border once again would
jump to the front of the list of his many #first!$priorities. He had
hoped he could stall new strong action until after he left office,
but that option was rapidly disappearing as food shortages
worldwide continued to grow. Earlier in the day he told his
Chief of Staff, Taylor Cronin, that he needed to talk with the
Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Admiral Cornelius Hold-
en had long been a close friend of the President and it was to
him the President turned to help decide what comes next.
***
President Llewelyn sat with Taylor Cronin in the study
next to the Oval Office. Both men were tired from a busy day
of meetings and a press conference regarding the annexation of
Guatemala by Mexico. Even though Mexican troops had en-
tered Guatemala more than two weeks earlier, Llewelyn!s pub-
lic appearances were still necessary to calm concerns that things
were spiraling out of control in Central America.
The President sat smoking a cigar. Cronin sipped a scotch
and soda. The room was compact, with a Persian area rug and
four overstuffed armchairs arranged facing each other at each
corner of the room. Room darkening drapes covered two floor-
to-ceiling windows. There was a television screen mounted to
the wall between the windows. A small table below the televi-

145


sion held a family photograph on the top shelf and several mag-
azines on the shelf below. Although there was an overhead light
fixture, the President preferred the standing lamps in two diag-
onally opposite corners of the room.
While they waited for Admiral Holden, the President low-
ered the room lighting. "Lucy,” the President said, using the
wake up name for controlling the smart lighting in the room,
"Set lighting level to sixty percent.” His chief of staff looked at
him quizzically. "I!m just tired, Taylor. Time for a more peace-
ful setting for a few minutes.”
"Yes, sir, Mr. President,” Cronin replied and took another
sip from his scotch.
The president leaned back wearily. "I!m still trying to fig-
ure out why people are fighting so hard to get this job. Nine
months more and they can have it. I!ve never waited for any-
thing with more eager anticipation than the inauguration of a
new President.”
Cronin remained silent, assuming the president was think-
ing out loud and venting.
"I don!t see any desirable path for the future. Everyone
running for my job has detailed plans for what they!ll do to save
the world, while I know that it!s all just happy horse shit.
They!ll scrap those plans the day they first sit in that chair on
the other side of this wall. Everyone wants to look like they
have a plan, that they!re a powerful leader, that they!re on top of
the issues, that they!re prepared to be President.” He paused for
a moment, smiling at Cronin. "You and I both know, ever comes
to this office prepared to be President of the United States, no

146


matter how full a resume he or she may have. It will always be
eighty percent on-the-job training.”
The President checked his watch. At that moment, his sec-
retary knocked and entered the room. "Admiral Holden is here,
Mr. President,” she said and then ushered the admiral into the
study. Holden was a man in his late fifties who had risen quick-
ly through the ranks, largely due to his success in working with
the Chinese to forge a complex but effective military partner-
ship. It had been clear to Holden that a political alliance alone
would not suffice in a world rife with military risks and threats
due to climate change. The US military, at his urging more than
a decade ago, began war-gaming the threat scenarios of agricul-
tural failure, starvation and massive population migrations, both
by land and by sea.
President Llewelyn rose from his chair and greeted Admi-
ral Holden warmly. Cronin remained seated, nodding a wel-
come as the admiral was settling into his chair. President
Llewelyn offered Holden a cigar, which he declined, asking for
some coffee instead. The President made a quick call to his sec-
retary to arrange for the coffee.
"So, what!s the situation, Cornelius?” the President asked.
"Well, Mr. President, as you know we got blindsided by the
Mexican action in Guatemala. All our information pointed to a
military move from Guatemala to Mexico rather than the other
way around. However, in the short term, this can work to our
advantage. With Mexico controlling the northward flow of mi-
grants from lower Central and South America at their new
southern border in Guatemala, we should find a temporary eas-
ing of tension on our border with Mexico. Also, the intelligence
haul from the James Marshall rescue mission has given us the

147


tools to shut down, at least for a while, whatever leakage there
is across our border with Mexico. That!s the good news.”
The president!s secretary entered carrying a tray with a cup
of coffee, milk and sugar and placed it on the end table beside
the admiral. He paused long enough to prepare his coffee, black
with one sugar.
"Okay, Admiral, what!s the bad news?” the president
asked.
"As bad as harvests have already been, our belief is they
will only get worse in the next five years. Droughts are forecast
to persist, probably permanently. We are not just looking at
food shortages, Mr. President. We are expecting mass starvation
in a wide swath across Central and South America. As astonish-
ing as the number sounds, probably over two hundred million
people will soon be at risk.”
Admiral Holden paused as the President put his cigar down
and looked ready to interrupt. The President changed his mind
and remained silent. Holden continued.
"Pretty clearly this will cause a significant threat of illegal
entry by boat all up and down our entire west coast, along our
southern coastal border from Brownsville to Key West and
along the coast from Miami to the Outer Banks of North Car-
olina. Based on what the meteorologists project, we will see
catastrophic crop failures and subsequent pressure on these
borders resuming within the next two years.”
"When you say #pressure!$ what exactly are you talking
about, Admiral?” Taylor Cronin asked.
"I think we can expect boats of every type and description
ferrying people to us from the south and attempting to enter the

148


country along our entire coastline. Excluding the Mexican bor-
der for the time being.”
"Does the military have a plan for dealing with this?”
Cronin asked.
"Cornelius,” the president interjected, "before you answer,
are we talking about a plan for deterrence or a plan for
capture?”
"Mr. President, that!s exactly the right question. Is it one or
the other or both? This becomes a political decision, which is
why I!m glad you called for an early heads up.” He paused for a
moment. "I think we will have to set up what the Aussies used
during World War II. I mean coast watchers. Patrolling the
coastal borders will be a mammoth task, and the military can!t
do it alone. Even with satellites and drones.”
Admiral Holden reached for his cup of coffee and took
several careful sips. Steam was clearly visible above the cup.
"So, the coastal watch is the deterrence part,” Admiral
Holden continued. "For the capture scenario, what do we do
with those who get through? We!ve got the internment centers
already in place and functioning, but they!ll be quickly over-
whelmed. We must plan for probably ten times their current ca-
pacity.”
"But Admiral,” the president said, "they design those
camps to hold about four hundred thousand internees. Now
you!re talking about four million. How will we feed all these
people? With the warming trend, I understand our northern
states are experiencing better than normal harvests, but does it
make up for the drought losses in the lower states? Actually, we
would need much more than just making up for the loss.

149


Breakeven won!t do it. With a big influx, we!ll need a signifi-
cant net increase in our harvest.”
"Well, there is one idea that we!re assessing,” Admiral
Holden said. "Lower Canada will experience warmer weather
and increased farming opportunities as more of their land be-
comes suitable for farming. There!s also the possibility with
longer summers of more than one harvest per year for rapidly
maturing crops. We!d need to make some kind of agreement
with the Canadians, which would rapidly become complicated,
as you can imagine, Mr. President. Who does the farming? Who
pays for it? How is it distributed? What about Canadian sover-
eignty and their need to feed their own people?” Holden paused
for a moment to see how the President and his Chief of Staff
were reacting to what he was saying. "The usual mix of night-
mares on your plate, sir.”
President Llewelyn and Taylor Cronin remained silent in
the light of Admiral Holden!s report. Finally, the president said,
"Okay, Admiral. I will need whatever reports and assessments
you have on this, and I will take it from there. When can I have
this?”
"It!s Thursday. I can get it all together for you by next
Monday, Mr. President.”
"How about tomorrow morning?” the President said.
Admiral Holden thought better of objecting. "Yes, sir. To-
morrow morning. Can we say that means before noon? Yes?”
"Okay, Admiral. Yes. Before noon.”
***
President Llewelyn took a few days to mull over Admiral
Holden!s report. For the moment, it satisfied him that things

150


were in their normal state of controlled chaos, but he also knew
time was not on his side. A massive surge of illegal attempts to
enter the US was fairly certain. Housing, feeding and caring for
four million illegal aliens would put a devastating burden on the
country!s resources, a burden the country was not realistically
ready to take on. And the threat of internment to desperate peo-
ple might seem like an inducement rather than a deterrent.
When Admiral Holden gave the President the documents
he wanted, he also gave him privately an alternative strategy to
incarcerating and feeding those captured that he did not want to
share even with the President!s Chief of Staff. Given the likely
high level of desperation of food refugees, Admiral Holden told
the President, it was his belief that deadly force ultimately
would be the only way to secure the borders. Whether by land
or by sea, Holden believed rules of engagement would need up-
dating to allow for the use of lethal force. The admiral!s argu-
ment was simple. The food refugees were dead to begin with. If
they stayed in their native country, they would starve to death.
If we fire on them, they!ll be dead. Either way, they!re dead. His
argument!s strongest point was that we cannot let millions of
desperate food refugees bring the United States down with
them. The President told Holden he would take his argument
under advisement and asked for nothing in writing.
Llewelyn did not want to be the first President to fire on
starving innocents. He could wipe his hands of it and let his
successor deal with it or he could meet with the Chinese presi-
dent, Zhou Xiang, and with Ranjit Lal, the president of The
World Federation, and at least reinvigorate a discussion based
on the reality of imminent, worldwide, mass starvation.
President Llewelyn called his Chief of Staff into his office.
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"Taylor, I want to make a quiet trip to Beijing to meet with
President Zhou and President Lal. I want to leave Sunday morn-
ing, before church lets out. That should get me in to Beijing by
Sunday evening. The purpose is to discuss a common strategy
to deal with these damned harvest failures. If possible, I!d like
to meet Monday, some time in the afternoon. Keep the staff to
an absolute minimum. Make it happen.”
After dismissing Cronin, the President called Dr. Kathryn
Boyle, Administrator for the National Oceanographic and At-
mospheric Administration, and asked to meet with her in the
evening. He wanted her on his trip and he wanted her to have
ready a complete update on weather forecasts for the Americas
and for The People!s Republic of China for the next three years.
He then called Tom Spinichek, the Secretary of the Department
of Agriculture. He instructed him to prepare his best estimate of
harvests for all the Americas, including the US, and for The
People!s Republic of China, looking forward also for the next
three years.
***
Dr. Kathryn Boyle was not at ease having tea with the
President on Air Force One. A powerful windstorm delayed
Llewelyn!s flight, so he was still on the ground when he re-
ceived the troubling news of a surge in Chinese crossing the
border into Mongolia. Since the Mongolian countryside was
largely unoccupied, the President!s advisors understood that
they would quickly move through Mongolia, across the Russian
border and into Siberia, where there was a steadily increasing
Chinese presence anyway.

152


"Can!t everything just hold together until I!m out of office?
Just nine more months,” the President said after learning about
the Mongolian migration surge.
Dr. Boyle did not respond to the President!s musings. She
was enough of a Washington veteran that she understood presi-
dents talking to themselves was nothing new or of concern.
"What!s with this storm, Dr. Boyle?”
"It came up quickly, sir, or they never would have let you
get on Air Force One. Best now just to wait it out.”
"Are we safe on the tarmac?” Llewelyn asked.
"I assume so, sir. I!m sure they wouldn!t have moved us
here if there was any actual danger.”
The President asked Dr. Boyle whether he should ask the
pilot to come back to give him an update on the situation. How-
ever, Dr. Boyle assured the President that storms that assemble
as quickly as this one usually die off just as quickly. The pilot
would have nothing to add to what she just told him. Accepting
her comment, the President became quietly thoughtful.
"It!s really getting worse, isn!t it Dr. Boyle?”
Kathryn Boyle understood his question to be about global
warming and not about the storm. She wasn!t sure how to an-
swer the President. Scientists for years have been keeping in
check their growing terror of what they believed was coming.
Or had their fears suppressed by others. But this was a direct
question by one of the most powerful men on Earth, and she
needed to be as honest with him as possible.
"Yes, sir. It!s really getting worse. More than you can imag-
ine.” They both remained silent after that, waiting.

153


The President!s phone rang. He quickly picked it up and
listened to the pilot!s report. "Thank you, captain,” the President
said after a moment and then replaced the phone next to his cup
of strong, black coffee on the table beside his armchair.
"We!ll be taking off in a few moments, Dr. Boyle. I!d like
to go over your three-year weather projections again.”
***
The flight plan indicated a trip duration of about eight
hours using the four ADVENT engines developed by the Air
Force. Two F-40 fighter jets would escort Air Force One,
changing shifts about every two thousand kilometers, as newly
fueled planes took up their stations beside the President!s
plane.
Especially when over the Pacific Ocean, ships at sea, satel-
lites and land-based radar would monitor the President!s flight.
There would be no time when his location would be in black-
out. The Russians and the Chinese received his flight plan as a
courtesy and for potential help should the need arise.
It would be a working flight. The President would meet
with Tom Spinichek following his meeting with Kathryn Boyle.
He wanted to understand both their worldwide weather and
agricultural forecasts and how reliable they were and how they
quantified the reliability of their forecasts. He had a similar re-
view three years ago. However, data was being accumulated at
such a rapid rate as technology improved that the assessments
were out of date more quickly than in the past.
Approaching Beijing, the controllers at Beijing Capital In-
ternational Airport took clearance control of Air Force One.
Paul Latimer already knew the arrival time and where it would
park.
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***
The three presidents had been in deep consultation for sev-
eral hours. Yet, instead of arriving at a common strategy, the
more they discussed the consequences of massive population
migrations, the more contentious the conversation became.
President Llewelyn was finally despairing of any agreement.
President Lal and President Zhou could barely look at each oth-
er, and when they did it was more or less to frown unhappily.
"Gentlemen, I think perhaps we need a half hour break,”
President Llewelyn suggested.
Lal and Zhou agreed to the break. Llewelyn and Zhou rose
and left the conference room in different directions, moving to
their respective office spaces provided by President Lal.
Zhou had been growing more concerned by the month with
the food conditions in his country. The early years of rapid in-
dustrialization under Communist leadership had resulted in
widespread water contamination. Almost seventy percent of the
underground water, especially in the north, was contaminated,
suitable for industrial use only or not at all.
The problem of China!s water crisis was recognized even
in the latter years of the 20th century. However, virtually noth-
ing was done to reverse the damage until well in to the current
century. Severe water source protection regulations designed to
prevent or control Industrial and agricultural runoff that pollut-
ed the near-surface aquifers failed. Amelioration had been at
best spotty due to lack of vigorous enforcement and the long
recycle times of many of the aquifers.
Rural towns that could afford to do so drilled deep wells,
often five hundred or more meters down, to get to uncontami-
nated water. However, most farms in the north still relied on

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near-surface aquifers and the prolonged droughts dramatically
lengthened the time for aquifers to refresh themselves. The net
result was that water for drinking and agriculture was almost no
better now for the average farmer than it was thirty years earli-
er. And the monsoon rains had become less reliable.
For Zhou, the situation was growing desperate. His com-
mitment to The World Federation, with its ban on doing busi-
ness with non-members, was becoming the path to political sui-
cide. There were almost no countries anymore within the Fed-
eration that China could count on to supplement its food re-
quirements.
In the fall, Zhou ordered the rationing of all non-agricul-
tural water usage. Conservation became one of the highest pri-
orities in the country. The central government ordered indus-
tries depending on water in their manufacturing processes to do
with less. Village officials throughout the country would have
to report to the Interior Ministry as to the steps they were taking
to implement water rationing in commercial operations.
Household use of water, as well, came under strict ra-
tioning control. Size of households determined family use water
allocations, with quantities determined in Beijing based on a
maximum of what it considered adequate for four members or
less. Conservation and re-evaluations of water usage became
periodic. The new regulations banned all ornamental use of wa-
ter. Regulations also required farmers to get permits for all agri-
cultural use of water. There were now only three allowed meth-
ods of water distribution to plants, each designed to minimize
loss through evaporation. Violators of the water rationing orders
were subject to very harsh punishment.
Zhou once again weathered public outrage. However, na-
tional necessity provided an effective argument wih the people
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to calm their anger. The news of famine in the western prov-
inces provided some support to the government!s admittedly
desperate moves to control water consumption. However, Zhou
knew that while his edicts would help, they would not be
enough. There was only so much conservation one could do
with an arguably outdated and inefficient water infrastructure
almost everywhere in the country. Also, the further from the
central government in Beijing, the more Zhou could count on
corruption undermining the water conservation edicts. China
alone still would be unable to feed its population. It would still
depend on external suppliers of food.
Only Russia, to the north, had dependable excess food
production as an expected benefit of global warming. Even the
United States could no longer be counted on as a dependable
food partner for the People!s Republic. The vast, empty land-
mass of the Siberian plateau was a potential agricultural trea-
sure too rich to ignore for a country slowly sliding toward
famine.
Zhou faced two equally unsatisfactory solutions to China!s
food problem. Risk war with the Russian Federation or risk un-
raveling The World Federation. Zhou believed only a world
government could deal with global warming. Local interests
would always motivate local stakeholders. Solving global
warming would require giving up the concept of local winners
and losers. The whole Earth would be the winner, or the whole
Earth would be the loser.
Zhou had hoped for a creative option outside the box of
futile half measures, but so far Lal and Llewelyn had proposed
nothing new. Indeed, President Llewelyn was coming to this

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meeting with his own food problems. The Chinese situation, as
Zhou saw it, was far graver than that for the Americans.
Zhou needed his problems addressed first, but political
constraints were blocking anything meaningful from the Ameri-
cans who consider their problems of the highest priority be-
cause they are American. Zhou was getting nowhere.
His own set of restraining forces weighed President Lal
down. On the positive side, Lal rejoiced that at least the cards
were being laid on the table, as the Americans were fond of say-
ing, but rarely fond of doing. As for recommendations for con-
crete action, walking back to his office Lal concluded sadly no
action would come of today!s meeting.
Although President Llewelyn called for this meeting, the
China issues consumed Lal!s attention. The intelligence from
the Marshall rescue earned the Federation some credits with the
Americans that would buy him some time with them. But not
enough, he feared. Interests of the three principal stakeholders,
The World Federation, the Chinese and the Americans, were
getting too complex to juggle effectively. Lal needed to help
simplify them. What was missing, he decided, was a clear un-
derstanding of the trigger points for each side. What he was
missing was more information than what the World Federation!s
intelligence gathering resources had so far turned up.
What was missing, Lal concluded, was a good grasp of the
big picture. His intelligence services provided a good analysis
of individual personalities and the needs within each of the
three principal Federation stakeholders. However, the black
hole of his intelligence was an understanding of the Russian
interests. They had not joined The World Federation and global
warming was ironically raising Russia to a high level of in-

158


ternational importance. He needed to understand what the Rus-
sians would want in any future negotiations.
Only Paul Latimer and his intelligence freelancing enter-
prise, The Network, seemed uniquely able to intersect with all
the parties concerned. By all reports, Latimer had become a se-
rious player in the Chinese/Russian drama. More intelligence
was essential. What happens between Russia and China affects
the United States and The World Federation. Lal could no
longer ignore Latimer and his intelligence gathering resources.
He once before underestimated the reach of what he had dis-
missed as an anomalous spy outfit of no consequence. It was a
mistake he could not afford to repeat.
Lal needed to know where Paul Latimer was and what he
knew. Latimer had been unfinished business. The World Feder-
ation had tried for years to kill him as a dangerous witness to
the tumultuous year of its formation. Now, ironically, he might
become a resource, even an ally. But there was no reason why
Latimer would help The World Federation, or the Americans for
that matter. Yet, necessity had forged stranger matches than this
in the past. It might again.
It surprised Lal how resourceful an enemy Latimer proved
to be. Always he had been one step ahead of all the Federation
assets deployed against him. He would try one more—Chen
Huichi. As former Minister of State Security for the People!s
Republic of China, he would have the contacts and the knowl-
edge of resources needed to track Latimer down once and for
all, but not to kill him. To hire him.
Lal knew that currently Chen, like McEldridge, was work-
ing on the secret Project Nemesis. But Chen!s background and

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skills, like those of McEldridge, were too valuable to dedicate
to one project. He would give Chen a crack at Latimer.
Project Nemesis would once again have to suffer the tem-
porary loss of one of its key members. And because Project
Nemesis was already a secret project, drawing from among its
ranks would provide one more layer of secrecy to any Latimer
mission. Lal knew he could count on Chen to keep a new as-
signment secret.
Lal messaged his secretary to arrange for a meeting with
Chen Huichi as soon as possible. Then he had a quick cigarette
and returned to the conference room. President Llewelyn and
President Zhou were already seated, waiting for him.
***
Paul Latimer arrived in Ulaanbaatar, the capital of Mongo-
lia, after traveling by land from Irkutsk, in Russian Siberia. His
journey took him first to Lake Baikal, the deepest lake on Earth
with a depth of more than a kilometer. It is also the oldest lake,
having formed over 25 million years ago. And the lake also had
the greatest volume, containing twenty percent of the non-
frozen fresh water on Earth.
From Lake Baikal he continued by land, crossing the bor-
der from Russia into Mongolia at the Altanbulag border post,
then straight south to Ulaanbaatar. The countryside was fertile,
flat pastureland making the drive gratefully uneventful.
By early morning Latimer arrived at the capital, known
familiarly by the locals as UB. He checked in to the Shangri-la
Hotel on Olympic Street using the name and passport of Philip
Anderson, a mining engineer from Canada. The hotel lobby, the
only five-star hotel in UB, was spacious, with two enormous
chandeliers and a solid wall of floor-to-ceiling windows afford-
ing a panoramic view of the mountains to the east.
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Ulaanbaatar had grown from a backwater rustic Mongolian
city to a modern commercial metropolis, the largest city in
Mongolia and home to over fifty percent of the entire popula-
tion of the country. Latimer decided there was no point in trying
to hide in the shadows. It was best, he decided, to hide in luxury
in the open.
After receiving the room key, Latimer followed a bellhop
carrying his suitcase. They took the elevator to the ninth floor.
His room was at the end of the corridor. There were two king
beds, one of which, after dismissing the bellhop, he immediate-
ly lay down on to refresh himself with a nap after his long
drive. When he awoke it was already early afternoon. He show-
ered, shaved and changed into clean clothes.
Latimer was in no hurry since his mission was not until
early evening so he went to one of the three hotel restaurants,
the Café Park, and had a light lunch prepared to order for him at
one of the food stations. Following lunch he walked to Castle
Pond, just south of the hotel, where he could enjoy the clear
weather, warm temperature and where he could rent a paddle-
boat.
After about an hour, Latimer left the park and walk further
south towards his destination, River Garden Luxury Village,
just north of the Tuul River. The apartment he would visit was
in the area of the village called Times Square. This was the
most expensive residential area in UB, surrounded by muse-
ums, embassies and diplomatic housing. The man he would
meet, the target of this mission, lived in River Garden Luxury
Village.
The entire residential project comprised three eleven-story
buildings, six sixteen-story buildings, and two thirty-three-story
buildings. The interior of the apartments were appointed with
161


high ceilings, windows affording panoramic views of Bogd
Mountain to the north or the UB skyline to the south, walls of
Brazilian stone, floors of Polish wood, a fireplace and European
style utilities and whatever supplemental custom features the
wealth of the owner could afford.
Latimer went directly to the apartment of Babayar Pantul-
ga, Executive Director of Mongolian Coal Resources. Pantulga
owned a residence on the twenty-fifth floor in the south tower.
He knew Pantulga would not return to his apartment until after
seven in the evening.
Mongolian Coal Resources was developing the Tavan Tol-
goi coking coal deposit in southern Mongolia, near the Chinese
border. This was the largest such deposit of high grade, metal-
lurgical quality coal in the world. Coking coal is an essential
element in steel production and is highly prized. As Executive
Director, Babayar Pantulga was well-placed to know the busi-
ness, transportation and political power brokers in Mongolia.
China received a large percentage of this coal to support its
steel industry, so Pantulga was also well positioned with impor-
tant Chinese industrial and transportation leaders.
Mongolia was strategically positioned as a kind of channel
that flowed with material, people and information between Rus-
sia to its north and China to its south. The older generation in
Mongolia due to Mongolia!s history and proximity to Russia
commonly understood and spoke the Russian language. How-
ever, for years Mongolia had been teaching English as a second
language to its children as the language of international com-
merce since the fall of the Soviet Union. However, having Chi-
na across its southern border introduced a strong Chinese influ-
ence as well. The Chinese border town, Erenhot, just across the

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Mongolia/Chinese border, was a stop on the Trans Mongolian
Railway and as such was one of the transfer points for Chinese
entering Mongolia and often from there traveling further north,
to Russia itself. Erenhot was also not far from the Mongolian
Coal Resources coking-coal mining operations.
From Paul Latimer!s point of view, Babayar Pantulga
would make an important asset to The Network. His mission
was to recruit him. He entered Tower 1 and rode the elevator to
the twenty-fifth floor. The hall was empty, and he quickly ap-
proached Pantulga!s apartment and almost just as quickly, de-
feated the security lock on the entry door. He entered with some
stealth, wanting to verify the apartment was empty, although he
knew Pantulga had a late afternoon meeting in downtown
Ulaanbaatar. Latimer, satisfied the apartment was empty, began
a careful sweep of the unit for weapons, first, and then for any
documents that might prove instructive or enabling to his task.
He found no weapons except a ceremonial sword mounted on
the bedroom wall.
Pantulga!s mail was stacked neatly on the table by the en-
trance door. Latimer photographed the front side, containing the
address of the sender of each envelope. He also found a safe in
the bedroom floor, covered by a small area rug. Latimer had
come prepared for the possibility of a more sophisticated safe,
but this was a simple dial combination safe. Opening his
shoulder bag, he removed an electronic stethoscope and in a
few moments opened the safe. Because of the simplicity of the
design, he expected nothing seriously valuable, and it was doc-
uments, anyway, that he was most interested in. He pho-
tographed the contents so he would later know how to return
the contents to their original positions in their original order.

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There were some insignificant pieces of men!s jewelry and a
woman!s gold charm bracelet with eight gem-encrusted gold
charms. He took a photograph and made a note of this since he
knew Pantulga to be unmarried. Also, he found a small packet
of envelopes gathered together by elastic bands. He pho-
tographed the addresses and the contents of each for analysis
later.
There was no file cabinet in the apartment and only a
small, period desk, so it was obvious Pantulga did not take his
work home with him. He found, however, a very diverse and
expensive collection of clothes in his walk-in bedroom closet.
He checked the medicine cabinet and photographed the
prescription drugs found there. Likewise, he checked the
kitchen for any unusual foods. He found a plastic bag in the
freezer compartment that looked to Latimer to contain marijua-
na. He also found a plastic bag with a mixture of herbs he could
not identify. Knowing the faith Mongolians place in traditional
medicines, Latimer took a small sample from the bag, again for
later analysis. It might suggest some medical issues for Pantul-
ga.
Paintings throughout the apartment were of exceptionally
high quality, mostly Western European masters, but some
American impressionists as well. American culture had become
very popular in Mongolia as a sign of sophistication and wealth.
He photographed all the paintings along with the few personal,
framed family and business photographs scattered on various
surfaces throughout the apartment. One photo was not of a
Mongolian woman. It was clearly a high maintenance Chinese
woman. She might prove useful, he thought.

164


Latimer took a seat in the living room with its panoramic
view of the impressive skyline of Ulaanbaatar with its many
skyscrapers. The incongruity of this architectural tour de force
located on a high, alpine plane in Mongolia reminded Latimer
of the similar incongruity of a major city, Las Vegas, having
risen from the desert of the American southwest.
He did not expect sunset until about 8:30 pm, so Latimer
relaxed for a long wait for Pantulga. He found a small collec-
tion of books on a bookshelf in the living room. All but one was
in English and Latimer found one to read while he waited. The
title was The Decline and Fall of the West, The Rise of Safe
Havens. Latimer recognized the title as one he had started read-
ing in Italy, also in English, a year earlier while recruiting a
former prime minister.
Latimer discovered early on that recruitment of the right
people for The Network was always surprisingly easy. If a sig-
nificant amount of money changed hands along with access to
people with even more money, and hence more power, these
virtually assured recruitment. Sometimes The Network encoun-
tered men or women of principle, but rarely. Almost always
there was a workaround for principles that got in the way. With
Babayar Pantulga, Latimer knew him to be an ambitious man,
and so he expected a successful outcome from their meeting.
Latimer discovered that the hyper-rich in their heart of
hearts thought of themselves as the mysterious power players
controlling the world, but he knew they were confusing con-
nectedness with power. They are the public elite everyone
knows, the establishment icons living in their delusional world
of self-importance. They were not the Labyrinth. It was in the
highest hands-on level where the actual Deep Labyrinth of roil-
ing interests resided, populated with those who have the ears of
165


those who have the ears of the world!s richest people. They are
the ones, the shifting denizens of the Deep Labyrinth, who ebb
and flow by circumstance to converge on a shared interest—a
consensus—who make the hyper-rich believe it was their goal
as well.
Babayar Pantulga was several layers away from the Deep
Labyrinth, but was still useful in the web of connections. Re-
cruiting at the level that interested The Network was not only
about money. Beyond a certain level of wealth and its comforts,
money no longer was sufficiently motivating on its own to turn
a prospect. The Network did not deal with people enamored
with great wealth. Power was the drug of choice to the
addicted.
For The Network, knowledge was power, and for the
client, Latimer had an illuminating metaphor. For Paul Latimer,
The Network was like an ant colony. All the hands-on worker
ants were busy at their appointed tasks. But when a challenge or
an opportunity presented itself, with their myriad antennas
touching and sharing and passing along information like a radi-
ating ripple from a stone dropped in a pond, awareness spread
and the colony was transformed into a determined and focused
unified organism. The queen was still there, but somehow the
power of the separate parts of the colony coalesced into a com-
mon understanding, independent of the queen. Anyone closely
watching an ant colony in the throes of such an event would
report not only a sense of purpose, but something approaching
joy, the thrill of power let loose.
Latimer would be ready with a convincing proposition
when Babayar Pantulga arrived home.

166

167


10

With her husband, James, recuperating at home for at least

three weeks and another two weeks at half time at work for a
full recovery, Sylvia was having second thoughts about Jonas
going off to work on a farm. Part of the logic of his farm adven-
ture was that there would not be adequate home supervision for
Jonas, with Sylvia deeply engaged on the Nemesis Project and
James normally traveling most weekdays. But now, James
would be home for most of the remaining summer vacation. He
would be home during the four weeks Jonas was scheduled to
spend on the farm and probably could swing not returning to
work until Jonas!s summer break was over.
The discussion with Jonas did not go well, however. He
was so emotionally prepared for working on the farm that his
deep disappointment moved both parents to relent. They relent-
ed and he could go to the farm after all. Lijuan would drive
Jonas to the farm of her cousin, Wu Renshou, using James!s car.
It would otherwise stand idle anyway during his recovery.
When the time came, Sylvia and James sent Jonas off to
the farm carrying only essential clothes, shoes and toiletries,
plus several bottles of sunscreen. Jonas was still so young,
Sylvia thought. What was she doing approving this? On the
other hand, and there is always another hand. She was very
proud of her young son!s independence and willingness to forgo
the comforts of a stay-at-home summer in Beijing. He would be
just fine, she convinced herself. Or would he? A mother!s
doubts quickly crept back into her already substantial pile of
anxious World Federation concerns these days. Her husband

168


was more relaxed about their decision. It was a guy thing, she
decided, and resolved to trust in others.
***
Jonas Marshall woke before the sun came up, as usual on
the farm. Although only ten years old, Jonas quickly went to
work on his assigned task caring for the chickens. He fed them,
cleaned up after them and collected and stored their eggs. When
he completed those chores, he went into the fields with Uncle
Renshou!s daughter to hoe and weed.
Jonas wore a coolie hat that shaded his head from the re-
lentless heat of the sun. He wore simple shorts and a white, cot-
ton, short-sleeve shirt. Renshou gave Jonas woven straw and
wooden soled clogs that almost immediately produced nasty
blisters. In the evening of his first day, Renshou put a cream on
his blisters, but it did not help reduce the size of the blisters.
Jonas waited until the second morning with no improve-
ment and then punctured each blister with a pin to let the liquid
out, making it easier and less painful for him to wear his clogs.
Renshou!s daughter, Jiao, also ten years old, was working
in the field alongside Jonas. Jiao was shorter than Jonas and
thinner. When Jiao and Jonas first met, she did not smile and
when she did, it failed to light up her face the way smiles com-
monly do. Instead, her face kept a kind of guarded reserve.
Jonas at first thought Jiao was not friendly and did not like him.
After a while he decided he was wrong, that she was just very
shy.
Jiao!s hair was long and dark with a small, colorful barrette
on one side of her head attempting to assert some control over
the otherwise unruly cascade about her shoulders. Her tan cot-
ton dress fit her loosely and went almost to her ankles. Around

169


her neck, hanging from a string, was a flat green marble chip
with delicate patterns of white streaks throughout it. The edges
of the stone had been roughly polished and rounded. Jiao had
drilled an off-center hole in the chip to allow the string to pass
through it. After Jonas had been on the farm for almost a week,
one morning Jiao let Jonas hold it.
When his chores with the chickens were complete, Jonas
and Jiao worked together in the bean field. Watching Jiao work,
Jonas thought of her as not strong, although he could not decide
if it was simply because she was a girl or whether she was not
well somehow. Jonas liked talking with Jiao, since it was excel-
lent practice for his Mandarin, which Jiao preferred to speak
rather than the regional Jin dialect. He discovered that his
teachers in Beijing had been very forgiving of minor errors in
grammar and pronunciation. Jiao was not so forgiving and cor-
rected his Mandarin politely, but thoroughly. Jonas didn!t mind
and was grateful to her for her insistence on perfection.
Working together, it didn!t take long for a measure of trust
to build and Jiao became somewhat friendly towards Jonas. She
helped him with Mandarin, and he helped her with the hoeing
and other farm chores. Jonas was also learning about farming
from Jiao. She told him that the family had switched this field
to bush beans because they did better in hot, dry soils than the
pole beans they used to grow there.
Jonas looked again at the field and was not so sure. The
plants looked, even to his untrained eye, weak with drooping
stems and many yellow leaves. It also seemed to him that each
plant had only a few bean pods. Some had none.
Nevertheless, they both had a task to do. Shortly after
Jonas arrived at the farm, Jiao had taught Jonas how to use the

170


hoe to weed among the plants and how to loosen any solidly
baked soil around them so that water could penetrate to the
roots. It was necessary but tedious work and Jonas was finding
the day particularly hot. He stopped his work and stood up to
give his back a rest. When he turned towards Jiao, he was sud-
denly alert.
"Cousin Jiao, are you feeling well?” Jonas asked. Children,
until they have spent enough time together for dispensing with
formalities, refer to each other as cousin or little cousin if much
younger.
Jonas was alarmed to see that Jiao was sitting in the dirt
several rows away from where he was working. As he worked,
he faced away from Jiao and had not noticed at first her declin-
ing strength. Jonas walked over for a closer look and saw Jiao
was dripping with sweat and looked dazed. She did not answer
Jonas right away when he asked her again if she was okay.
Jonas knelt down for a closer look. Jiao stared blankly at Jonas
for a moment and then seemed to recover her senses.
"Cousin Jonas, my head hurts and I can!t stand without fear
of falling.”
"Shall I get help?” Jonas asked.
"Yes, please. I don!t think I can stand up.”
Jiao, who had left her wide-brim hat at her family farm-
house, was working with only a scarf to protect her from the
sun. Jonas realized it had not been enough. Even with his coolie
hat, he was feeling the heat exhausting him. And they had not
had a drink of water in more than an hour. Jiao did not have a
watch, but Jonas did and tried to make sure they drank regular-
ly. For some reason, no one brought them more water.

171


"Cousin Jiao, I think you have been in the sun too long to-
day. I will leave you to get help. I will leave my hat with you to
better protect you from the sun.” He carefully tied his hat under
her chin and then raced off to the farmhouse to get help.
When he arrived at the farmhouse only Renshou!s wife,
Huifang, was home. When Jonas explained about Jiao, she
quickly gathered up a container of water and she and Jonas ran
back to the field where Jiao had been working. When they ar-
rived, Jiao seemed to Jonas to be asleep. Her mother recognized
it as more serious. She bent over Jiao and gently tried to rouse
her after first wetting a corner of her dress and putting the moist
cloth to Jiao!s lips.
"Jiao, Jiao,” her mother urged her to awaken. She slid the
scarf underneath Jonas!s coolie hat off Jiao!s head and wet it
with water to make a compress that she quickly applied to Jiao!s
forehead. After a moment, Jiao regained consciousness, looking
blankly at her mother.
"Mama?” she asked, not yet understanding what was hap-
pening.
"Shhh,” Huifang said to comfort Jiao. "You had too much
sun today. Cousin Jonas and I will take you back to the house
where you can rest. Drink some water now, before we go back.”
Jiao drank slowly from the container. After several sips, she
could take a bigger swallow. Then she turned to Jonas. "Thank
you, Cousin Jonas,” she said and smiled for the first time with a
true light of friendship in her eyes. Jonas smiled back and took
her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Jiao!s mother then picked her up and asked Jonas to carry
the two hoes as they walked back to the farmhouse. When they
arrived, Huifang put Jiao down on her bed in a shady corner of
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the house. She removed Jonas!s hat and continued applying a
wet compress to Jiao!s forehead.
"Should I get Uncle Renshou?” Jonas asked.
"No. He is busy in the wheat field with the other men. Jiao
will be well soon. Too much sun. No more work for today. I
think maybe better if you stay inside as well. Do not forget you
also must drink. Yes?”
"Yes, I understand, Auntie,” Jonas said.
Jiao felt better as the compresses took the heat away from
her forehead. She settled more comfortably into the bed while
her mother moistened the compress again and reapplied it.
Huifang then turned to Jonas. "Did you drink your water in
the field?” she asked.
Jonas did not know what to say. He didn!t want to get any-
one in trouble.
"Cousin Jonas?” She asked again more firmly.
Jonas had no choice but to answer. "No one came,” he said.
Huifang was silent for a moment and then said, "I under-
stand,” but she had an angry look on her face that Jonas had not
seen since he arrived at the farm.
***
Sylvia Marshall knocked on Samuel Berman!s office door.
She heard a faint "Come in” and entered the office.
The Berman she had known for so long had vanished. The
man whose organizational and business brilliance had been so
instrumental in developing the successful enterprise of com-
mercial laser-fusion energy and ultimately The World Federa-
tion was gone. She could see it in his eyes, in the slump of his

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body. Seeing Sylvia enter the office, a slight spark of his former
self ignited briefly.
What hair remained, though no longer full, had suddenly, it
seemed to her, turned from salt and pepper gray to white. His
face was haggard and the skin along his jawline had sagged as
if no longer able to support the pretense of youthful enthusiasm.
Because of her other duties, plus the drama of James!s capture
by the Mexican coyotes, Sylvia had not seen Berman for more
than a year.
Project Nemesis succumbed to the in-depth assessment of
the remaining power of the fossil fuel interests and their related
stakeholders. The end of all fossil fuel extraction was simply
never going to happen, but President Lal wanted to prove this to
himself, Sylvia reasoned, by giving his best people a crack at it.
The further the project advanced, the more impossible the task
seemed, until finally President Lal accepted the reality that the
goal was impossible to achieve.
With the end of the Nemesis Project, Sylvia returned to the
laser-fusion group once again under her old boss, Dr. Arthur
Cranshaw, and in her old capacity as Deputy Director, with the
acting Deputy Director, reassigned elsewhere. Project Nemesis
had been a long shot at best. She did not mourn its demise.
Since both she and Samuel Berman once again worked di-
rectly for Dr. Cranshaw, in a way her visit now was a courtesy
call to Berman. But not entirely. On her way to a meeting with
Cranshaw, she wanted a heads up on what she might walk into.
"Samuel, it!s so good to see you again. How have you
been?” she asked as she stood in the doorway to Berman!s of-
fice.

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Berman relaxed back into the soft, overstuffed leather
chair, evidently thinking about how to answer what would have
been considered meaningless pleasantry under different times
with a different person. Sylvia was quick to read his struggle
with an otherwise mundane question. She changed her expres-
sion to her best poker face and waited.
"My dear, come in, of course. What!s the matter with me?”
He rose from his chair and moved to give Sylvia a hug and
a kiss on each cheek typical of Europeans greeting old friends.
"And James? Of course I heard about his adventure in Mexico,”
he said, leading her to a chair in front of his desk. "He!s fully
recovered, I trust? And your little boy, Jonas?”
"Thank you, Samuel, for asking. Everyone is just fine and
James is almost as good as new.”
Sylvia took a seat in front of Berman!s desk. Despite her
fondness for the old man, she had always hated the separation
of these seating arrangements, and not just in his office, but in
offices in general, with this traditional barrier from outdated
custom with its unnecessary implication of hierarchy and rank.
But that!s the way it was. So suck it up, she told herself. It was
not designed to imply a team of equals, and indeed more often
than not it wasn!t. There were exceptions to this strategy, for
that is how she thought of the seating arrangements: a strategy.
She liked it when Arthur Cranshaw, certainly not her equal, un-
questionably not her equal, unfailingly invited her to sit with
him at the small coffee table in the corner of his office.
"And you, Samuel,” she said with a smile. "Is there any
point in asking you?”
Samuel immediately feigned a happy smile in return. "Of
course there is. You know god!s way. Close one door, open two
175


others. The Maser program is going exceedingly well. We have
demonstrated we can transmit energy from any place on Earth
to virtually any other place. You realize that means we can
make energy in otherwise unfavorable locations, but with de-
pendable solar and wind energy, and send it to anywhere else
that needs it to supplement the laser-fusion plants. In some re-
gions, it may even be their primary energy source. Plans are
underway to deploy at least fifty satellite relays. They should be
ready for launching in two years or less.”
Sylvia showed genuine surprise. "Why that!s wonderful.
The Maser team has done a brilliant job.” However, Sylvia
quickly realized the technical achievement quickly gave way to
the practical reality. "But Samuel, does that make up for the
hundreds of abandoned coastal power plants lost by coastal
flooding?”
"Unhappily, it does not. The greater part of the Maser ap-
plications will be only as a supplemental system, not a primary
system. To make matters worse, because of the millions of peo-
ple displaced from coastlines around the world, additional ener-
gy to service this huge inland migration must be achieved by
the quickest means possible. Unhappily, that means expanding
the coal and oil fired systems already operating inland. The
laser-fusion generating plants will take too long to solve the
immediate need. The need, Sylvia, is now. We!re building both
systems in parallel, but, as you know, the fossil fuel plants re-
quire much less effort to expand than to build from scratch a
brand new fusion energy installation. Ironic, no?”
Sylvia sighed. "Crazy, yes.”

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They both remained silent for a moment. Finally, Sylvia
asked the question she had come to Berman to ask in the first
place.
"Samuel, what!s going to happen to us all?”
Berman was silent, looking carefully at Sylvia. He didn!t
want to give too small an answer, nor did he want to go further
than her question required. It would be a delicate balancing act,
just enough to retain her trust in him. He took his glasses off
and rubbed his eyes, mostly buying time, he realized. Finally,
he believed he had found a satisfactory answer.
"By #us!$ I assume you don!t just mean the employees of
The World Federation.”
Sylvia laughed, knowing he was trying to edge into her
question lightly. She nodded in such a way that showed they
both knew he was not serious.
Berman sighed. "I didn!t think so.” He paused ever so
slightly. "We have a rough estimate and believe a least one hun-
dred fifty million people have already died from climate change
related causes. Mostly from flooding, famine, disease, and
thirst. And with the Antarctic ice fields slipping rapidly toward
the sea, we can expect more coastlines to disappear under the
waves. Probably another hundred million deaths, at least, within
five years.”
Sylvia lowered her head under the weight of Berman!s pro-
jections.
"Sylvia, my dear, we cannot think of these numbers as
people. I think that would drive us mad. On the other hand, hu-
manity has adapted to such numbers before. In the last century,
perhaps four hundred million people died of smallpox. The
Black Death from the 14th to the 18th centuries killed more
177


than seventy-five million people. Because European Catholics
were hit so hard, of course, Jews were considered responsible
and many of them were put to death. Nothing new with that as
well. In the early nineteen hundreds between fifty and a hun-
dred million people died in only two years from the Spanish flu,
with more than half a million in the US alone. World War II was
responsible for more than a hundred million war-related deaths.
Even today, AIDS continues to kill, especially in rural Africa, as
if their problems were not already heartbreaking enough. So
people have a history of adapting to great numbers of untimely
deaths, and still the world population keeps growing.”
"But, Samuel, the current numbers are ghastly and with no
end in sight. All those numbers you quote, they are people. I
can!t simply erase that understanding. And not just people.
Whole cultures and whole ecosystems. And the face of Earth,
the geography, is changing forever. Coastlines will never be the
same. And with the disappearance of so many mountain glaci-
ers, the numbers that will die of thirst and starvation will not be
in the millions, or even the hundreds of millions. I believe it
will be in the billions. The few safe places on Earth will be-
come areas of contention and probably war, with yet more
deaths trying to stop people desperate to move there.”
Samuel was silent, knowing her assessment was probably
more correct than his.
"Is there no hope?” she asked.
Samuel folded his hands on his desk and lowered his head,
obviously deeply considering her question. Finally, he raised
his head and looked at Sylvia, expressionless.
"My dear Sylvia, I am of the last lucky generation of hu-
manity. I will probably not live to see the final chapter of cli-

178


mate change work its way through the people of Earth. Not just
the people, but all higher forms of animals and plants. You and
your children and your grandchildren, indeed, all generations
following in the wake of mine, will find an Earth no longer
suited for the abundance of life this precious planet had for so
long nurtured,” he sighed, "like an indulgent parent.
“The land that once provided crops enough to feed hu-
manity, is growing sterile either from the droughts, which kill
the plants outright, or from the failure of the grain plants to set
seed because they haven!t had time to adapt to the higher tem-
peratures.”
Berman looked at Sylvia!s questioning expression.
"You probably didn!t know that, did you, Sylvia?”
Sylvia was startled by his comment on grain and needed to
make sure she understood what she heard.
"Are you saying,” she asked, "that our cereal plants will not
set seed if the temperature gets too high?”
"Yes, my dear. That is exactly what I am saying. Harvests
will not be limited simply because there will not be enough wa-
ter. What plants that do manage to grow will not produce useful
amounts of grain when the temperature during the crucial de-
velopment phases of their growth exceeds a certain maximum.
We are fast approaching that maximum for most of the world
below the equator. Those people depending on a successful
harvest will simply die. And those who don!t die of starvation
will die of thirst when all the mountain glaciers are gone and
their spring and summer melts are no longer there to supply wa-
ter for the quarter of the world!s population that depends on it.
They will die not in the hundreds of millions, which humanity
can absorb. But, as you say, in the billions.”
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Sylvia was stunned by Berman!s blank expression as he
said this—emotionless—as if he was reciting a weather report,
predicting an unpleasant weekend. She didn!t know if it was
what he said or how he said it that shocked her most.
"Samuel,” she said, "It!s just a shit storm and when you
think you have heard the worst, it just gets even worse. I!m try-
ing to see if what I am doing, what anyone is doing, will make a
difference now. Are we all just spinning our wheels, wasting
our time, pretending there is some scientific magic that will,
okay, not prevent disaster; disaster is already here, but put a cap
on things. I need a reason for hope. There must be something
we can do.”
"No,” he said with infinite sadness in his voice. "There is
no reason for hope. It!s too late. It was too late twenty years
ago. We just didn!t believe it. Not enough of us, anyway. Not
the politicians or the businessmen or the manipulators of public
opinion. Now it is too late. The predictions of the knowledge-
able are coming true. Cities abandoned, coastlines transformed,
death and starvation, and cruelty—we must never forget cruel-
ty—as people struggle to survive.”
Berman was reciting his assessment almost to himself, but
out loud, when he suddenly realized he was shocking Sylvia
beyond his intention. He realized he had exposed his deepest
fears. He could no longer keep contained the thoughts that had
for several years been roiling his consciousness. He did not
want to spread like a contagion his utter despair for
humanity. No longer able to control his words, he stopped
speaking.
They sat silently.

180


Suddenly, Sylvia decided she would not accept this apoca-
lyptic view of Earth!s future.
"No! I don!t accept that. I don!t accept that there is nothing
we can do.”
Berman simply shrugged his shoulders. He was not in a
debate. She could believe whatever she chose to believe. He
saw no point in trying to dissuade her. What will be, he thought,
will be.
"If you truly believe there is no hope, what keeps you go-
ing? You must think the powers that be are working on some-
thing. On many things. During wars we, I mean the collective
humanity "we” have mobilized to produce huge united efforts.
Some on one side and some on the other. What we have been
able to achieve for destructive ends was epic and with global
impact. Why can!t we do the same thing, but with a common
enemy? The common enemy that can unite the world is not
aliens from space, like a cheap movie thriller, but the real deal:
global warming. Okay, we are taking too long to mobilize the
united forces of Earth, but it can be done. If we can fight two
global wars for reasons a lot less ominous than the destruction
of human civilization, then we can fight a global war on climate
change, no matter what the cost and no matter what the sacri-
fice.”
Berman did not respond. He had vented more than he in-
tended and did not want to go down that depressing path again.
But Sylvia was not through.
"Samuel, I know there are solutions, okay, not for reversing
what!s already happened, but for stopping the runaway. There!s
geoengineering, creating a veil around Earth to reduce the
amount of sunlight getting through and reflecting more back
181


into space. There is fertilizing the oceans with iron to create
algae blooms to absorb more carbon dioxide from the at-
mosphere. There is re-implementing Project Nemesis to stop all
fossil fuel extraction. There is carbon capture and sequestration,
CCS, actively to remove carbon dioxide from the air. There is a
full scale worldwide conversion to wind and solar energy where
it is abundant and using the Maser developments to send the
energy to where it is needed. We can implement a worldwide
commitment to expedite the conversion to a hydrogen energy
economy.
"If we can produce tanks and ships and planes and
weapons by the thousands and tens of thousands and train men
all over the world to use them in a matter of a couple of years,
we can make the same effort, on the same warlike scale to save
Earth itself as a place safe and nurturing enough for us, okay,
maybe not all of us, but a lot of us. My god, if the survival of
humanity and all we have accomplished, and all we have suf-
fered through, if this is all not to be for nothing just because we
can!t as a world community get our shit together, Samuel,
Samuel, it can!t end like this, with a whimper.”
Samuel Berman had no fight in him anymore. He had no
more arguments or even the energy to engage. He knew they
had examined all these technologies for years. One by one they
were shown to be too local, too costly, too uncertain of results
or too dangerous and likely to make matters worse rather than
better. His own deep knowledge of these so-called solutions
that never led anywhere exhausted him. Because he had nothing
more to say, he remained silent.
Sylvia waited until she realized Berman was done and had
no response, no answer, no comforting words of assurance. He

182


was a man, she decided, going through the motions and simply
waiting for death. But still she made one last effort.
"Samuel? Please.”
He looked at Sylvia and with a shrug again of his shoul-
ders forced a faint smile.
"My dear Sylvia, we go back together so many years. You
are like a daughter to me. From my days in Europe with my
wife, may she rest in peace, until now even, I have not been
more fond of anyone than you. I would not have said the things
I said to you just now if I did not love you like a daughter. I
must be honest with you. Honest with what I know and what I
project from what I know. This I do all the time. It is an old
habit of an old man.”
He took a long breath before continuing.
"It is what Arthur pays me to do. For you, I do it for free.
Sylvia, my darling, we are surrounded already with epic disas-
ters. History, the history of humanity, is being rewritten every
day now. We see it with our own eyes, but because I do love
you, I tell you what we see is only the tip of what will come.
"You want a reason for hope from me. I see no reason for
hope. My advice to you is to decide how you want to live the
remaining years of your life.” Berman gave a short laugh at his
own words.
"It!s not so brilliant, this advice. One could safely give the
same advice at any time to anyone in humanity!s past. Yes, how
do you want to live whatever time remains? It!s not so brilliant.
You see, it makes good sense. So this time is really no different.
Yes?” He looked at Sylvia, but really was seeing somewhere
beyond her as he said, perhaps for himself, "Just different op-
tions, that!s all.”
183

PART 2
The End of the Beginning

184

11

All along the East coast of the United States, cities have
had to be either abandoned or protected by the construction of
dikes and seawalls, borrowing from the experience of The
Netherlands. It was out of the question to abandon Miami, one
of the richest and among the most valuable cities in the world.
One does not walk away from Miami. For any reason. The best
engineering talent in America considered every conceivable en-
gineering solution to the rising water, analyzed and rejected
them all. The consensus found them either impractical, too ex-
pensive, or wouldn!t work.
Finally, the mayor of Miami solved the problem. Miami
would become the Venice of America. The city, not having been
built on stilts to begin with, would improvise. The ground floor
of every building of two stories or more became the stilts sup-
porting the rest of the building. The streets would become the
canals. Only ground level, one-story buildings were doomed. It
was not perfect, but it would suffice.
Even so, most of the South Florida coastal homes and
businesses would have to be abandoned. Since the sea floor
along the Florida coast was mostly porous limestone, water
would simply come up from the sea floor as if a wall were not
even there. So sea walls would do no good at all along the Flor-
ida coast. In many small seaside towns along the East coast,
Front Street, parallel and closest to the ocean, gave way to First
Avenue, then Second Avenue, then Third as the rising water
gobbled and shrank the town.

185


While studies of the rapid melting of Greenland raised its
own alarm among scientists, they were not the cause of the sea
level rise devastating coastlines worldwide. Antarctica was
mostly to blame. It was not the predictable and calculable
source of slow and steady sea level rise that Greenland repre-
sented. Antarctica was the source of random, episodic and un-
predictable disasters.
Antarctica differed in many ways from the Arctic region of
Earth to the north. The Arctic Ocean covering the North Pole is
a vast ocean surrounded by land. In contrast, whereas Antarcti-
ca is a vast continent surrounded by water. Not only is Antarcti-
ca surrounded by water. It was, and to a large extent still is en-
capsulated by water. The Antarctic Circumpolar Current, flow-
ing clockwise around the continent, is the largest ocean current
on Earth. Its icy water had kept warmer waters from penetrating
to and moderating the Antarctic climate. The frigid water of the
Antarctic Circumpolar Current allowed the continent to main-
tain its extremely cold temperature, too cold for casual human
habitation. It is essentially a large science experiment site man-
aged independently by several nations.
Antarctica is, in fact, a desert with only brief periods of
rain or snow. What snow does fall never melts, but remains and
adds to the glacial mass by steady accretion. Ice covers almost
the entire continent, the average height of which reaching 1.6
kilometers. Antarctica holds ninety percent of all the ice on
Earth. Greenland holds the second most amount of ice.
The continent is divided into two sections, East Antarctica,
comprising about two-thirds of the continent, and West Antarc-
tica, making up the remaining third. East Antarctica is a land-
mass approximately the size of Australia while West Antarctica
consists mostly of ice-covered islands.
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All ice is not the same. There are three types of ice at
Antarctica. There is the ice sheet or field that is land-based.
Earth!s gravity edges this ice toward the sea, forming what used
to be relatively stable ice shelves that extend beyond the land,
floating on the water. Finally, the third type of ice is seasonal
ice at the edges of the ice shelves that melts in the Antarctic
summer and reforms in the Antarctic winter.
The Larsen Ice Shelf, located at the northwest tip of
Antarctica, consisted of three segments, Larsen A, Larsen B,
and Larsen C. Larsen A, the smallest section, collapsed into the
sea in 1995. Larsen B, approximately the size of Rhode Island,
collapsed in 2002. Larsen C, the largest segment roughly two-
and-a-half times the size of Connecticut, became unstable when
a huge crack developed in it, marking out an area about three
quarters the size of Connecticut. This broke off and separated
from the rest of Larsen C in 2030. Large sections of land-based
ice behind it, no longer anchored by the ice sheet, gradually be-
gan sliding into the sea and was contributory to the sea level
rise that inundated Bangladesh and many other coastal regions
around the world. Fortunately, all the low-lying island nations
had been abandoned years earlier, even before the collapse of a
large section of Larsen C.
The reasons behind sea level rise are complicated. Floating
ice does not raise the ocean level when it melts. Marking the
level of water in a glass of water with ice cubes floating in it
will readily show this. After the ice cubes have melted the level
of water in the glass will not have changed. However, place
enough ice cubes in the glass so the column of ice is resting on
the bottom of the glass and you will find the level of the water
in the glass will have risen after the ice has melted. In other

187


words, floating sea ice does not change the level of the ocean
when it melts, but land-based ice that flows into the ocean or
melts will raise the sea level.
The Larsen ice shelves extended out into the ocean but
were connected at their rear to land-based glaciers or ice sheets
behind them along the grounding line. The grounding line is the
connection boundary between the floating ice shelf and the
land-based glacial ice sheet. The reason for the collapse of the
Larsen ice shelf was that with global warmer water intruded on
and broke up the underwater connection between the land and
the ice shelf along the grounding line. This allowed a large ice
shelf segment to break off.
When a section of the shelf ice collapses into the sea it has
no long-term effect on sea level because it is floating ice, but it
releases the glacier behind, freeing it then to move more rapidly
toward the sea. As this land-based ice breaks off into the ocean
by "calving,” it produces permanent increases in the ocean's
level.
The threat to coastal regions of the world is that sea level is
no longer rising only because of the expected expansion of wa-
ter from heating up, as most things do when they get hotter.
Now the world had to face the rapid and random collapse of
Antarctic shelf ice, releasing the Antarctic field ice. Predictions
for the increase in sea level with the sped up outflow of por-
tions of the Antarctic field ice into the ocean were somewhere
between five and ten meters. A ten meters rise in ocean sea lev-
el doomed most coastal communities around the world to inun-
dated and loss.
***

188


Like waking from a nightmare, only to discover it is not a
nightmare. At 9:48 AM on December 12, 2042, the Thwaites
ice shelf collapsed into the sea. With that ice shelf gone, be-
cause it was floating ice, it would not of itself raise the ocean
level, but it would no longer serve as the plug holding back the
glacial sheet behind it. Gravity would now pull the land-based
glacial sheet ice rapidly, relatively speaking, to the ocean where
it will melt and raise sea level worldwide.
Like Indra!s net, the interconnectedness of all things in-
cluded the laws of physics. Gravity, the far-reaching organizer
of the cosmos, even on the scale of Earth, has multiple roles to
play. Gravity will not only draw the Antarctic ice fields to the
sea like iron filings to a magnet. The gravitational attraction of
the massive amount of ice covering Antarctica draws ocean wa-
ter toward the continent, creating a kind of water "hump”
around the continent!s perimeter. To the degree that Antarctica
loses ice, to that same degree its gravitational attraction for
ocean water will diminish and the water hump will redistribute
around the world, further adding to the rise of the sea, shaking
Indra!s net.
***
President Lal was in a meeting with the German Finance
Minister when his secretary, Gladys, knocked on the door and
entered without waiting for Lal to invite her in. He probably
would not have, since he was engaged in a difficult discussion
with Minister Schuler. He was both surprised and annoyed by
her entry.
"Excuse me, Mr. President, but I was told to give you this
message without delay. I apologize for the interruption.”

189


She handed the folded note to Lal. Already expecting that
it was not good news, he quickly read the note. Struggling to
maintain a neutral expression, he thanked Gladys, folded the
note and continued with his meeting.
It had not been a good day. The Germans were threatening
to exit the World Federation. They had long ago, even prior to
the formation of the Federation, converted the major part of
their energy supply to renewable energy sources. Almost
eighty-five percent of the country!s entire energy budget came
from wind and solar energy. They let their existing nuclear
plants gradually complete their expected duty cycles, but did
not extend their operation beyond that period. Germany had
taken almost no advantage of the fusion energy opportunity of-
fered by membership in The World Federation.
With the demise of the United Nations, Germany needed
another venue for a voice on the international stage and The
World Federation was that lone platform. Germany supported a
world government, but paid a commercial price for that com-
mitment. The prohibition of trade with entities outside The
World Federation was the price Germany paid for its seat at the
table.
Minister Schuler had forwarded his country!s concerns
about its actual benefits of membership in The World Federa-
tion, and President Lal scheduled a meeting with the minister
almost immediately. After more than an hour, the meeting was
not going well.
When Gladys left the room, Lal decided it was time to end
this discussion and give time for the minister to consult with his
home office on the meeting details thus far. When the minister
left his office, Lal messaged Gladys to arrange for a meeting

190


with President Zhou, within the hour if possible, but, in any
event, before the end of the day. He also asked her to call Presi-
dent Llewelyn.
The note informing him of the collapse of the Thwaites ice
shelf changed everything. With its collapse, more and more
land-based ice will move to the sea, melt and irreversibly raise
the level of the ocean. The new models incorporating the possi-
bility of just such an event occurring predict not a half meter
rise in the level of the sea by 2100, but a more catastrophic rise.
This was the feared, unpredictable, but expected event that
threw all the projections into the trash. What was the tipping
point? When would it happen? What did the world community
need to do by what date? One event like this made all current
planning and programs yesterday!s news.
The world would suffer the consequences of this event al-
most immediately. Calving of land-based glacial ice into the sea
will raise sea level rise faster than all expectations.
Lal for the first time believed they were fighting the will of
God.
***
Sylvia Marshall, Chen Huichi, and Bert McEldridge sat at
the table in the small conference room. There were no decora-
tions, no potted plants, no paintings or even photos on the
walls. It was, in fact, only the fourth time, despite the urgency
associated with Project Nemesis that they all had met as a
group.
The need for the Nemesis Project had vanished when
events got ahead of the planning. Now, with the collapse of the
Thwaites Ice Shelf, the three attendees believed a ten-meter
rise in sea level by the end of the century had become a virtual

191


certainty. The few outlier deniers were still promoting their con-
trarian point of view, but no longer had a following or even
clandestine financial support.
President Lal sat quietly for a time, looking at his three
proven achievers, the team he had hoped would plan the final
break with fossil fuels. But events had outpaced his plans. The
conversion program was going well, but not fast enough. Alter-
native energy sources were also going well, attracting a lot of
investment money, and the scale of the projects was steadily
increasing. But not fast enough.
The hard reality of chemistry was that the energy density
of fossil fuels far exceeded that of wind or solar. It would take a
square kilometer of ground to produce one megawatt of power,
whereas a fossil fuel fire electric generating plant the size of a
football field could easily produce one hundred megawatts. So-
lar energy did a little better, but still did not come close to the
energy density of fossil fuels. They had found very few loca-
tions where alternative energy could reasonably replace a de-
commissioned fossil fuel plant.
Cutting off the supply of fossil fuels without the hydrogen
fuel cell energy economy solidly in place would simply lead to
worldwide economic collapse and probably rebellion and revo-
lution on a massive scale. At the latest Paris conference on the
environment, virtually every country agreed to set a date, no
later than the summer of 2044, when in theory further fossil
fuel extraction would stop, and therefore its use as well. Every-
one agreed, whatever the consequences of such an order, what-
ever the economic or personal hardship, whatever the perceived
injustice, there was no longer any choice but the ban on fossil
fuel extraction. Except that no nation, for short term political

192


pressures, would accept the consequences of such an action
without a viable alternative source of energy already in place.
Lal!s message to the three principals sitting before him was
simple. The Paris agreement was dead. Project Nemesis was
dead. Despite the evidence all around them, nothing of conse-
quence would be done.
To Sylvia, The World Federation and the world were sim-
ply flailing with no acceptable strategic path forward. The cen-
turies of human abuse of Earth had finally aroused its wrath,
like a living organism taking its revenge. Sylvia was not nor-
mally one to engage in anthropomorphic pronouncements, but
the growing epic of relentless global disasters strengthened her
supposition of a living and angry Earth.
***
Sylvia woke gasping for breath, crying out to James lying
beside her. It was 3:12 AM.
"Sylvie, what is it?” he said, putting his arms around her.
"Hush. I!m here. It!s okay. It!s okay,” he repeated, trying to
comfort her and bring her from wherever she had gone in her
sleep, back to him with his arms around her.
Sylvia pressed her face into his chest and warmed to her
husband!s familiar embrace. Gradually she calmed down. But
the vision that jolted her from her sleep was still vivid in her
memory.
"Oh, Jimmy. It!s just too terrible. The floods, the famine,
all the dying.”
James Marshall held her close. He realized that Sylvia
had pushed across that barrier, that protective wall that allowed
her, allowed anyone to function in the midst of horror.

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James pulled her closer to him. He kissed her head resting
on his chest.
"I feel like we!ve all been cursed for what we!ve done,
that maybe there!s some karmic account that!s being settled that
we can!t escape. I can!t stand it.” She began to sob.
James gently pushed her from him. "Come on, Syl, let!s
go talk in the living room. I!ll fix us a couple of drinks.” He
took her hand and led her, unresisting, from the bed.
He guided her to the couch and waited until she settled in.
Then he went to the liquor cabinet and prepared two scotches.
He said nothing for several minutes, letting her quietly sip her
drink.
"How can you stand it?” she finally asked him.
James held his wife closer. "I just go day by day by day in
my job and in my life with you and Jonas.” James stopped to
look at his wife more carefully. "What!s going on at work that
brought on this sudden dread? I know you!re working on a se-
cret project.”
"Well, it!s a dead project so no need for secrecy any more.
It was to figure out how to end, even with force, all fossil fuel
extraction worldwide. Not necessary anymore because the
Thwaites Antarctic ice shelf collapse was the last straw. So the
project is dead, and nothing we do matters any more.”
Sylvia gave a deep sigh. "Basically, it!s hopeless and I
don!t see how there is a bright future for any of us.” She fin-
ished her drink in one gulp.

194


She handed her empty glass to James and held up her
pointer finger showing #one more.!$ Rising quickly, James pre-
pared another round for both of them.
Sylvia swirled the refilled glass of scotch, watching the
motion of the two ice cubes.
"Jimmy, it!s about our son! It!s like I!$ m watching him
catch a fatal disease. I want to protect him, to rush him to
somewhere safe. Except, there is nowhere safe.”
James moved closer to Sylvia and put his arm around her
again.
$ "We had such high hopes in the beginning,” she said,
"with the formation of the World Federation. Science to the res-
cue! Well, it didn!t turn out that way, but that doesn!t mean we
give up. It!s just that everything is so unprecedented. There!s
nowhere to look anymore for guidance or fresh ideas.”
Her eyes watered up again. "It!s too painful to bear.”
"Darling, that!s why I keep a short time horizon on all
this. We!ll go crazy if we think too far down the road.”
"I can!t do that, Jimmy. I don!t understand how you can do
it. We!re both scientists. We can!t just pretend that what we
know will happen will not happen.”
James was out of comforting comments and remained
silent. Sylvia finished her second scotch.
"I need another way of looking at this. Something that
makes more sense than just that we!re screwed.” She thought
for a moment and then continued. "I can!t just stumble through
this with no understanding of where it!s all going. I!ve been
thinking about the Gaia Principle lately.”
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"I don!t understand,” James said. "You don!t believe that
Gaia nonsense, do you?”
"Now I think I do. I!m thinking everything that!s happen-
ing is just a consequence of our terrible behavior…and that
Gaia, Earth as a whole, can possibly act with intent in response.
I know. Believe me. I know. You think it!s too anthropomor-
phic. I used to think so, too—that it!s crazy to understand what!s
happening as somehow an intentional act by nature.”
James shrugged his shoulders. "Go on,” he said.
“I!m reaching here now, Jimmy, because I need a logical
trajectory for all this. I!m just thinking out loud here. Let!s say,
just for argument, you know, #What if the Gaia Principle is
true?!$ What if Earth and everything in and on it actually are
components of one big organism?
"Jimmy, maybe it!s possible all these disasters are happen-
ing because one of the interacting parts of the organism, us, has
knocked the whole thing out of balance. Everything we are ex-
periencing is Gaia, the entire organism, the biosphere, including
us, the geosphere and the atmosphere seeking to establish a new
equilibrium, a new homeostasis.” She paused, smiling at the
thought that came to her. "It!s just physics with a purpose!”
They both laughed. "Okay, okay, what is it here that as far as we
can tell is unique to the entire damn universe? It!s life. And all
this horror is just Gaia doing what!s necessary to keep life from
disappearing. That makes sense, doesn!t it?”
"Geez, Sylvie, whatever gives you comfort, I guess. I
don!t know what to say. It all seems like a revenge theory to
me.”
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"Jimmy, maybe, just maybe we!re too used to thinking of
humans as the most important part of life on Earth—because
we believe that we alone, among all the forms of life on Earth,
have a destiny, a purpose. It!s arrogant and it!s wrong.”
James stared silently at Sylvia. He rubbed the stubble on
his chin, thinking how to respond. "Wow!” he said, finally.
"Where did this come from? The bottom line is still that we!re
all screwed. Right?”
"Yes, we messed up. And yes, we!re still not doing what-
ever it takes to reverse what we!ve done. And yes, we!re all
screwed. Well, actually not all. I believe now that the urge to
homeostasis will win out and when Gaia establishes a new bal-
ance, then life will continue. We don!t know what it will look
like, but life will continue.”
"For Jonas as well?” James asked.
Sylvia was silent. The pain of the question and the logical
conclusion of her argument were clear, brutally clear. "I don!t
know,” she said with a resigned sigh. "But we get no guarantee
for a particular quality of life with a dependable duration. Dis-
ease, predation, war—these have always been with us to one
extent or another, creating the equilibrium for the whole organ-
ism, for Gaia.” Sylvia paused as if lost in her thoughts before
shaking her head to clear it. She refocused on her husband.
"Jimmy, I!m thinking we have to understand all this death and
destruction as a fresh start in the history of life.”
James stared at her. "And this explanation, all this misery,
this nihilism, is comforting for you?”

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"Darling, it!s not nihilism because it!s not meaningless. It
has the goal of sustaining life by whatever means available to
the organism, to Gaia. It!s the exact opposite of nihilism. Don!t
you see? I think I would better describe it as commitment. Gaia
does what the prevailing conditions require, with only one in-
tent: Achieve a new balance that preserves life.”
James took another sip of his scotch, a small buzz begin-
ning to form. He finished his drink and thought, tomorrow will
be just another day.
***
President Zhou!s order in January reinstating the family
size law met with great resistance. Traditionally large families
were a form of old age insurance where children were expected
to and did take care of their elder parents. Despite the cultural
and social advances of modern China, they saw the return to
family size restrictions as a serious blow to personal security.
When Zhou ordered the new rules about water use and dis-
tribution he did so only after a massive show of military force
at expected resistance locations. Even so, there were wide-
spread demonstrations against the orders. To Zhou it looked like
the country might fall into open rebellion. There had been a
general hostility to the central government for decades. As the
eastern provinces thrived with the collapse of Communism, the
western provinces felt more and more left out of the new China
prosperity. The water restrictions seemed to them just one more
degrading abuse of power towards the western provinces.
It was April, and the monsoon winds failed to come. And
because of this, the monsoon rains would fail to come as well.
The farmers of northeast China would have to rely on newly
limited water drawdown regulations for already rapidly deplet-
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ing aquifers to irrigate their fields. Rice crops would be se-
verely reduced. The central government was working around
the clock to develop and distribute seeds for plants engineered
to be more resistant to the new reality of high temperatures and
low water.
The one seeming bright spot was that the two great rivers
that ran through China, the Yangtze and the Yellow River, were
running full due to the heavy mountain glacier melting that
feeds them. The farmland served by these great rivers pros-
pered. However, it was just the rally before the end to the scien-
tists and agriculturists who knew better. When there no longer
are mountain glaciers to melt, the Yangtze and the Yellow
Rivers will run dry. Agriculture in China will collapse.
Knowing this, Zhou moved on his own with yet more dras-
tic measures. He needed someone he could trust to open the
door to Russia. He would try to create a partnership with Russia
to exploit jointly the potential for Siberian farmland created by
global warming. He saw the fight against global warming as
already lost and the consequences piling up worldwide. He
could no longer sacrifice his country to preserve a global gov-
ernment. He decided he would have to deal with Lal and his
obligation to The World Federation later. His obligation to his
countrymen came first.
Zhou was sure Russia would take a carefully crafted deal.
Money and power, profit and influence would win the day. But
he still needed a channel to the Russians. He knew the Germans
were getting restive, but he couldn!t count on their discretion.
The United States was out of the question. They were not des-
perate enough to consider a break with World Federation policy.

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Zhou knew of Lal!s assignment to Chen Huichi to find
Paul Latimer. But to what purpose? Chen, being the former
Chinese Minister of State Security, was a man Zhou knew well
and liked. They had worked closely in the past. He was a man
Zhou could trust.
Zhou surmised that Lal wanted Latimer to find out what he
knew about Russian intentions. Zhou wanted Latimer to help
save the Chinese people. Chen understood this, and his first
sympathies would always be with Zhou. It was he who first in-
formed Zhou about his Latimer mission. At first it was a kind of
professional courtesy. However, the closer he got to Latimer,
the more Chen became convinced he made the right decision to
put Zhou in the information loop.
Chen fed information to Lal about uncovering Latimer!s
trip to Novosibirsk and then to Ulaanbaatar. But he made sure
the news was always old. He wanted to give Zhou time to as-
sess the information first. Latimer!s recent activity in Berlin
was no exception. Zhou knew he was there before President Lal
did. Zhou realized that would be his chance to open a path to
Latimer. He had agents in Berlin who could let it be known that
they represented a business interest for Latimer!s Network.
Zhou believed that even Latimer, elusive as he was, still was
open to new business.
***
Over the several decades, the attitude of the Lithuanian
people towards Russians had been more or less a roller coaster
ride. When Lithuania achieved its independence from the Sovi-
et Union there had been much hatred. Teaching the Russian
language became virtually banned in schools and government
edicts gave Lithuanian culture free rein to bloom and impress.

200


English became the second language of choice and after a while
only the old could still converse in Russian if need be.
However, eventually, in its rush to cleanse Lithuania of all
things Russian, the Lithuanian people had sacrificed a monu-
mental cultural legacy. Slowly, the Russian language and Russ-
ian culture returned to Lithuania. While the Russian language
never regained the widespread hold on the people as in the for-
mer Soviet days, nevertheless there was a revival of sorts. Vil-
nius, the capital of Lithuania, became a favorite tourist stop,
particularly the Old Town section with its Paris-like atmosphere
of narrow, cobblestone streets, shops, museums, art galleries,
the University, nightlife and churches. Vilnius flourished. It was
in Vilnius that Chen Huichi and Paul Latimer had agreed to
meet.
***
Chen blended in to a Chinese tourist group arriving by bus
in the Old Town section of Vilnius. His European clothes—tan
slacks and short-sleeve shirt with a colorful flowered print—
were typical of the vacationing crowd in the street. At a mere
1.7 meters tall and of a slightly rotund build, he was not an im-
posing figure. Bald in the middle with long, gray hair on the
sides of his head, he wore round, wire-frame glasses that all to-
gether reinforced a kind of invisibility. His most distinguishing
feature to those who first met him was his almost continuous
smile, as if aware of a joke that only he could hear and thor-
oughly enjoyed. Indeed, it seemed to endear him to strangers.
He was, they thought, such a happy fellow.
The bus parked at the foot of Pilies Street, across from the
Lithuanian Cathedral, the most important in Lithuania, and di-
rectly opposite the large square where the heroic statue of

201


Grand Duke Gediminas, founder of Vilnius, dominated the
scene.
Chen slipped away in the confusion exiting the bus, mov-
ing up Pilies Street while the tour group gathered chaotically to
cross the street to the cathedral. After a short walk up Pilies
Street, Chen arrived at number 17. He passed through the heavy
wooden door into a small courtyard. Quickly locating the door
to the stairway, he walked up to the third floor. Having previ-
ously received the key to the apartment on the side facing Pilies
Street, he used it to gain entry. He had rented it for the month.
As he planned, he arrived before Latimer. He walked to the
sliding glass door leading to the balcony overlooking the street.
Tourists filled the street, enjoying the warm, blue-skied and un-
seasonably warm spring day. He sat on one of the two chairs on
either side of a small wrought-iron table on the balcony and lit a
cigarette, waiting. Across the street he could see balconies with
flower boxes overflowing with colorful floral displays.
No more than twenty minutes had passed when Chen saw
the apartment door open and a man walked in. He wore jeans
with suspenders and a blue work shirt. A small navy captain!s
cap sat jauntily to one side of his head. Chen at first could not
identify him as Latimer because of the beard covering the visi-
tor!s face. As he took his sunglasses off, he quickly introduced
himself.
"I!m Latimer.”
"It is a great honor, Mr. Vice President,” Chen said in per-
fect English with no accent as he returned to the tastefully fur-
nished living room of the apartment.

202


"I won!t be here long, Chen, so let!s get right to it,” Latimer
said. "What do you want? You!ve got my attention, but don!t
waste my time.”
"I assure you, sir, as I explained to your man, I am acting
as a surrogate for President Zhou Xiang. Please have a seat.”
Chen gestured to an armchair for Latimer to use. He sat in
the opposing armchair. There was a small coffee table of
Swedish design between them.
"So, getting right to it then, my President wants your help
to open a backdoor channel to the Russians. We know of your,
shall we say, business dealings with Ivanoff and Bukonovich
and would like to use either of them as a conduit to the Kremlin
and to President Tamarov.”
"And why do you want to do that?”
"I think you know why, at least in general, already, sir.
Russia has surplus food to feed its people. The People!s Repub-
lic of China does not. People with far weaker intelligence re-
sources than you know this. The unfortunate truth is that in
three years, if my country takes no remedial action swiftly,
famine will once again return to China. It!s not pleasant to
watch millions of your countrymen starve to death.”
Latimer said nothing.
"Russia does not need a warming Siberia to feed its people,
but we do,” Chen said with his impenetrable smile. "We will
pay handsomely for the use of the land. We propose, in effect,
becoming tenant farmers to the Russian government.”
Latimer gave no sign whether he had come to this meeting
with instructions from the Russians. He pulled a pack of ciga-
rettes from his shirt pocket and offered one to Chen, who ac-
cepted. Looking around, Latimer saw no ashtray, so he got up
203


and opened the cabinet doors over the sink. He decided a small
dish he found in one cabinet would do.
When Latimer returned to his chair, he said nothing.
"Mr. Latimer?” Chen asked.
"Chen, I!ll be glad to take your money to convey your pro-
posal, but there isn!t a chance in hell it will convince anyone in
the Kremlin. You know that already, I!m sure.”
"Sincerely, we hoped that you could provide a greater ser-
vice than messenger boy. Am I being too frank? I believe Amer-
icans like it straight up.”
"I don!t know. I!ll have to ask if I meet one.”
Chen smiled in recognition of Latimer!s long, stateless
condition. "Do you really see no path to this happening? Even if
we were to pay you handsomely to be persuasive?” Chen
showed no emotion now, his smile gone.
Latimer thought through various scenarios before answer-
ing.
"You know, of course, that I am not interested in helping
The World Federation or its members have a long and happy
life. Part of the reason that we are even talking is The Network.
It helped me, as I!m sure you know, to survive attempts by The
World Federation to find and kill me.” Latimer said. "And now
I have capabilities you want to use and I am supposed to help
you. I would say, before you ask me to be persuasive on your
master!s behalf, first you need to be persuasive, very persua-
sive, to convince me I want to help you or your people for any
reason.”
Chen remained silent for an unexpected length of time,
even for Latimer, who was used to silence and often used it ef-

204


fectively. Latimer began to think that Chen was foolishly un-
prepared for this question. Finally, Chen seemed to resolve
some immobilizing inner conflict and sighed, as if he had un-
loaded a heavy burden.
"Mr. Vice President,” he said, "this seems perhaps like a
simple exchange of understandings, perhaps even the beginning
of a negotiation. However, I will tell you from my heart that
what we are doing now is of the greatest importance to the se-
curity of the world. Yes, in this little apartment, in tiny Li-
thuania, we may be choosing one of only two paths, either of
which will have enormous consequences. One path will lead to
saving many lives. The other path will surely cost many lives.”
Chen paused to weigh his words again, before continuing.
Looking at Latimer, he kept strong eye contact for several sec-
onds.
"I will tell you, Paul—and I use your given name to appeal
to you as a man not as a caricature mired in issues tied to the
past, but as a man—that China will use Siberian farmland with
or without Russia!s approval. We have no choice. Famine and
death on a level no country would accept is a certainty without
the use of that land. My mission is to promote Russian agree-
ment. Do you understand?”
"Keep going,” Latimer said, expressionless.
"You asked me to persuade you. If I may again be blunt,
you can help prevent a potential nuclear exchange between the
Russian Federation and the People!s Republic of China. If we
enter Siberia without Russian agreement, it will not be a half
measure. China will annex Siberia claiming ancient rights to the
land. And that, almost certainly, will lead to a military and
probably a nuclear response from Russia, followed by a nuclear
205


response from China—millions of people will die, the farmland
ironically ruined by radiation, and nothing achieved but death
and destruction. You can help prevent this. If you don!t help,
you will partly be an architect to this grim scenario. Paul, I am
appealing to your humanity.”
Latimer was silent now. Finally, he asked, "Specifically,
who authorized you to speak with me?”
"President Zhou himself.”
"Does President Lal know of this meeting?”
"No.”
"Do you know why President Zhou has kept The World
Federation out of the loop on our meeting?”
"No.”
"Does anyone else know of our meeting?”
"I don!t know.”
Latimer was silent again, thinking. Then he folded his
arms across his chest and shrugged his shoulders.
"I!m not convinced, Chen. Millions of people have died,
are dying worldwide as we speak. Why should I care if they are
Russian and Chinese?”
Chen leaned forward. "Because for those who have died
and those who are dying there was no choice. We have a choice
here. We can stand back and watch them die or we can do
something, one of the rare occasions in these awful times when
we can do something, and save them. There is a difference,
Paul, between the inevitable and the predictable. The pre-
dictable we can do something about.”

206

12

Spring brought an unusually powerful flow of water from

the mountains into the Sacramento River and the San Joaquin
River watersheds. California!s Central Valley was therefore
well irrigated once again. One of the most productive farming
regions in the world, the Central Valley produced more than
half of all the nuts, fruits and vegetables consumed in the Unit-
ed States.
Until mid-summer, 2042.
In mid-July, the volume of water flowing in the Sacramen-
to and San Joaquin Rivers dropped dramatically. By mid-Au-
gust both rivers went dry. The water flowing to the Sacramento
and San Joaquin Rivers was no longer from slow melting
glacial ice as in previous years, but instead from quickly melt-
ing winter rain. This rapid flow was quickly exhausted by
summer, no longer able to maintain the supply of water to the
Central Valley. Desperate farmers began drawing more and
more from deep aquifers, already having depleted the near-sur-
face aquifers.
The depletion of near-surface aquifers resulted in substan-
tial land subsidence during the early decades of the 21st centu-
ry. Water in the pores of the aquifers provided structural
strength to the aquifer. Removing the water left a mass of emp-
ty pores with no ability to support the land burden above it. The
result was a crushing of the empty pores, exactly like placing
heavy bricks on a dry kitchen sponge, forever destroying the

207


ability of that aquifer to store new water. Land subsidence from
the collapse of near surface aquifers was as much as ten meters.
With the transition to deep aquifers, a thousand meters or
more below the surface, the same process of depletion was be-
ing duplicated. Once these deep aquifers were depleted there
would be no alternative source of water. Deep water is high
quality water, but expensive to pump to the surface. Also, deep
water replenished itself very slowly, over hundreds of years,
making this water virtually irreplaceable. It estimated the life
expectancy of the Central Valley aquifers to be no more than
fifteen years at the current rate of withdrawal.
By September, the new American President, President
Richard Kendrick, signed the country!s first attempt at family
size control. Congress agreed to limit population size, not sim-
ply population growth. The population, President Kendrick de-
clared, was no longer sustainable and for everyone!s security
must be reduced. Families with more than two children would
experience a heavy tax burden and medical insurance penalty.
Strong sentiment also included mandatory sterilization for fami-
lies with two or more children, but the country was not yet
ready to go that far.
By the fall of 2042, Bangladesh had completed its massive
population relocation following the inundation of the Bengal
Delta. The dead totalled approximately thirty-five million from
drowning, starvation or disease. Mexico had consolidated its
control of what was formerly Guatemala. The Northwest Pas-
sage connecting the Atlantic Ocean with the Pacific Ocean was
dependably free of ice for more that five months out of the year.
Pakistan and India had exchanged artillery fire over the with-
drawal of water from the Indus River. The Indians, Pakistan

208


claimed, regularly violated the Indus Waters Treaty of 1960. In
addition, India was planning yet another hydroelectric plant that
would further reduce the flow of the river by the time it entered
Pakistan. Enraged Pakistani farmers mobilized in Islamabad,
demanding strong action against India and not merely symbolic
gestures. In Africa, essentially the entire populations of Ethio-
pia, Malawi, Somalia and Nigeria were leaving their countries
to find food elsewhere. But there was no "elsewhere.” Many
millions of Africans were dying because no one would open
their doors to the food refugees.
***
Like the Count of Monte Cristo, Latimer had his island
sanctuary. When he wanted to go completely "off the grid,” he
would fly alone by seaplane to the uncharted island he named
Mount Aratron. Only to he, his father and the Chief Operating
Officer of The Network knew of this island retreat. They were
never to contact him there unless under the most dire of circum-
stances, which had yet to happen.
The island, a small, uninhabited volcanic island in the
north Pacific, had a perimeter of barely more than four kilome-
ters. The heavily weathered volcanic island relic rises about six
hundred meters above the ocean surface and has a narrow beach
that encircles the entire island. The leeward side of the island
has an inlet leading to a cave with ample room to shelter La-
timer!s seaplane. Walking inland anywhere from the beach,
there is a dense forest bordering the steep volcanic cliffs. Also
on the leeward side of the island there is a small plateau about
one hundred meters above sea level. The plateau, shaded by
another forest, dense enough to prevent detection from the air

209


or by looking up from the beach, offered the perfect reclusive
hideaway.
The carefully camouflaged entrance to an elevator shaft cut
into the cliff face provided access to the plateau from the beach.
The plateau level shaft exit opened onto a space cleared to pro-
vide just enough open area for constructing Latimer!s retreat
without revealing its presence from above the canopy. Latimer
built his retreat high enough to survive the rising seas and re-
mote enough to enjoy safe solitude. Latimer preferred, but was
not limited to his Mount Aratron hideaway. He also had a back-
up safe haven among the almost countless Greek islets, where
he could disappear in plain sight should the need arise.
Latimer managed any communications requirements using
the equipment on his plane. He rigged an antenna wire from the
ocean inlet to the encampment on the plateau. He provided for
his electrical needs using high efficiency solid oxide fuel cells
with liquid natural gas as the fuel. By recycling the waste heat,
the efficiency of these cells is greater than 90%. The island had
a ready supply of fresh water from an above sea level aquifer in
the porous volcanic rock. He always brought with him enough
food and other supplies for two weeks. He never stayed longer.
Latimer used his visits to Mount Aratron to assess the im-
plications of all the fast-moving events on his active-items list.
He knew, and anyone else who thought about migration under
distress knew, policy decisions regarding borders would be in
flux depending on the degree of human pressure and political
pressure on those policies. Fear of drought plagued the US and
China, but also India, Pakistan, all of Central and South Ameri-
ca, North Africa and sub-Saharan Africa. In fact, virtually

210


everywhere worldwide south of twenty-five degrees north lati-
tude people were dying from drought-related famine.
There was an abundance of opportunity for The Network.
The worse things got, the more the market for intelligence heat-
ed up. Business was very good and The World Federation
seemed focused on more important things than tracking him
down, Latimer concluded.
He had dismissed Chen!s concern about a nuclear ex-
change between Russia and China and, at least for the present,
put off China as a client. He knew nothing would come of any
intervention by him to promote a tenant farmer/landlord rela-
tionship between China and Russia and fully expected China to
annex Siberia, regardless.
Meanwhile, the new American President, Rickey
Kendrick, had his hands full trying to work a tenant farmer
arrangement of his own with Canada, also going nowhere,
while desperate migrant pressure—food refugees—along all the
US coasts was ballooning.
Latimer!s intelligence gathering for India convinced him
that India and Pakistan were his next area of opportunity. India
was paying The Network handsomely to stay informed of Pa-
kistan!s military planning and intentions.
Latimer was satisfied that the worldview The Network
provided him was accurate, but he needed time to assess what
to do next. The Network was a means to an end, and business
success was not the end he was pursuing. Bringing the World
Federation down was his goal. It was personal. For Latimer, the
fruit of the poisoned tree was still poison.
Latimer remembered his desperate flight as Vice President
from capture by General Slaider. Slaider was the architect of a

211


coup so cleverly planned to make him look like a hero when he
put down the very forces he set in motion. The World Federa-
tion sprang from the subversive collapse of the United Nations,
the capture of all the top officials of the entire US federal gov-
ernment, the judiciary and the military under the pretense of
national security.
Slaider created a phony crisis and then orchestrated a pho-
ny resolution that included the death, albeit by accident, of
President Drummond as well as key legislators and judges,
blowing up electric power and transportation infrastructure,
putting down a military rebellion, even using tactical nuclear
weapons against his own troops, throwing the country into
enough chaos to justify governance just long enough by martial
law. Latimer knew all this, but no one would listen. He tried to
stop it, and was defeated. He barely escaped to Europe with his
life.
General Slaider was the "hero” from hell and The World
Federation was his offspring, conceived in death and destruc-
tion. To Latimer, nothing good could come from such an evil
beginning. He must cleanse the world of this pariah. This was
his passion. Everything else was just business.
He would use his time at Mount Aratron to advance his
plan for the dismantling of The World Federation, and Germany
would provide the opening wedge. The Germans had, even be-
fore the formation of The World Federation, committed to a
carbon-free energy infrastructure. Early on, before the rest of
the world understood the gravity of global warming, they tran-
sitioned to alternative, renewable sources of energy. They
stopped permitting the construction of power stations using fos-
sil fuels. Equivalent wind or solar generating stations replaced

212


decommissioned plants. Germany committed heavily to battery
development. By the time The World Federation was leveraging
its fusion technology into political control, the Germans no
longer needed it. They joined The World Federation not to ob-
tain access to technology they didn!t need, but to have a place at
the table of the only world organization left after the demise of
the United Nations.
Latimer was convinced he could persuade the Germans to
join with the Russians as an emerging alternative worldwide
political power center. Germany saw Russia, with its excess
food production, as a source of supplemental food should their
own resources falter in the future. They also saw Russia as a
lucrative replacement trading partner if they severed ties with
The World Federation.
The Russians spurned The World Federation from the start.
With its vast reserves of fossil fuels, Russia did not need the
fusion technology. As for the economic isolation imposed on
countries failing to join The World Federation, the Russians
long ago, while still under Communist control, learned to sur-
vive and adapt in financial isolation until a surrogate war with
the Americans in Vietnam drove them into economic collapse.
They discovered to their dismay that no nation can spend mon-
ey it didn!t have better than a capitalist country. It was the Russ-
ian Federation that rose from the debris of the Soviet Union and
that eventually restored Russia as a world power not just in
name but in actuality. Global warming, ironically, was Russia!s
friend.
With Russia!s position well north of the developing
worldwide drought zone, global warming was bringing more
moderate temperatures and longer growing seasons for its

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farmers, particularly in Siberia. The carbon dioxide emitted by
power plants still using fossil fuels was actually changing the
world climate to Russia!s advantage. Global warming and the
almost year round melting of the Arctic ice even provided Rus-
sia with the opportunity to exploit the oil known to be present
below the Arctic Ocean. For Latimer, the familiar adage came
to mind: it was an ill wind that blows nobody any good.
Latimer was certain he could make the union of Germany
and Russia happen. The only problem was China. While Ger-
many would represent a good start, China leaving the Federa-
tion to join with Russia and Germany would unleash a stam-
pede of uncertainty within the World Federation that would
shake other leaves from the tree. Latimer was sure of it. The
great challenge would be China.
The headquarters for The World Federation had been
moved to Beijing for a good reason. It recognized the impor-
tance of China!s cooperation in securing the World Federation
monopoly of the lunar mining of Helium-3. China was the cru-
cial partner with the United States that gave military credibility
to their "no trespassing” sign on the moon. Helium-3 was the
essential ingredient that made the laser-fusion process viable,
and it was the Chinese and American partnership that provided
the military might to enforce their exclusive access to this iso-
tope of helium found for all practical purposes only on the
moon.
China and the United States had become so financially en-
tangled and entwined in the process that they no longer could
remain competitors on the world stage. Instead, they became
inevitable collaborators. Their joint formation of The World

214


Federation was memorializing what had become a fact to the
banking houses of the world, anyway.
Breaking the bond between China and The World Federa-
tion was the goal that roiled Latimer!s sleep, that bathed his
conscience in a turbid wash of hatred and clouded the justice of
his mission. He didn!t care. His goal was the destruction of The
World Federation, no matter what the cost. China was his prob-
lem. Unexpectedly, Pakistan, Latimer concluded, would be the
solution.
***
Following the end of World War II, Bernard Baruch, the
American financier, proposed that only a world government
could gain control of what would surely be a proliferation of
nuclear weapons. President Lal hoped that The World Federa-
tion would be that world government, but it never did gain con-
trol of the world!s nuclear arsenals.
Latimer attributed this failure to the fact that The World
Federation was not a world government in the normal sense of
the phrase. It was a super corporation that used its technical and
material monopoly of laser-fusion energy to leverage signifi-
cant political control over the countries within its orbit, but not
to the extent of nuclear weapons control. Twelve nations—the
United States, the United Kingdom, France, Russia, China, Pa-
kistan, India, Israel, Iran, Saudi Arabia, North Korea and South
Africa—jealously guarded control of their nuclear arsenals.
Latimer would use this failure to his advantage.
***
"Wake up! Syl, wake up.” James Marshall was gently
prodding his wife, trying to rouse her from yet another night-
mare. "Darling, wake up.”
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Sylvia finally woke with a sob as James attempted to com-
fort her.
"My God, I can!t stand it, Jimmy. I can!t stop my brain
from creating one horror scenario after another whenever I go
to sleep. During the day, I can keep busy. I can bury these im-
ages, but when I!m asleep, they!re free to emerge and terrify
me. I don!t know how to stop them. It!s driving me crazy.”
James had no wise words for his wife. All he could do was
hold her in his arms. They remained embracing silently for sev-
eral minutes when Sylvia noticed Jonas, now twelve years old,
standing by the door to their bedroom, a door he opened.
"Jonas?” Sylvia said, questioningly.
"Mom, I heard you crying.”
"It!s okay, son. Mom just had a bad dream. She!s okay. Go
back to sleep, butch.”
"Mom, what!s happening? You!re having these bad dreams
all the time.”
Sylvia sat up and made a place beside her on the bed. She
patted the spot and Jonas came and sat on the bed next to her.
He looked at her, not sure what to do next.
"Jonas, I!m sorry if I frightened you. I!ve been under a lot
of stress at work and I!m afraid it!s given me problems sleeping.
I can!t turn my brain off. You!ve had that sometimes, haven!t
you, when something at school or maybe with friends just both-
ers you and you can!t get a good night!s sleep because you keep
thinking about it?”
Jonas nodded, hesitantly. "Well, not so much, Mom. But
sometimes, I guess.”

216


"I!m glad it doesn!t happen often to you. It really stinks
when it happens, doesn!t it?”
"I guess,” Jonas replied uncertainly.
James leaned across Sylvia and took Jonas!s hand. "Jonas, I
want to talk with Mom about her dreams to see if we can make
them go away. Okay? Can you go back to bed now? Mom is
okay. We just need to talk.”
Jonas got up from the bed. "Okay, Dad. Good night.”
Sylvia kissed Jonas on his forehead. "Go to sleep, my dar-
ling. I!m sorry I frightened you. We!ll see you in the morning.”
"Okay, Mom,” Jonas said, turning back to look at his par-
ents as he left their bedroom.
"Close the door, please, Jonas,” Sylvia said.
When he had gone, Sylvia turned to her husband. "Jimmy,
the problem is that these aren!t nightmares, not my mind mak-
ing up fantastic, exaggerated versions of something to get my
attention. These are visions of now, of what!s happening or
about to happen. I feel like the end of the world is coming. That
one good push is all it will take to destroy everything. I know
too much. You know too much. It!s not a damn dream so much
as a foreshadowing of what!s coming. I feel it. I feel it inside as
real as I feel this bed or you sitting next to me, the world com-
ing to an end.” She gripped James tightly.
Abruptly, Sylvia sat up straight, suddenly determined.
"At least, the world as we know it,” she said. "I think my
nightmares are because we don!t have a plan for survival.
Everything is already crumbling around us and it!s pretty safe
here in Beijing, for the moment anyway. We!re among the lucky
few with favored lives among the protected elite. Let!s be hon-
217


est. It!s true. But I!m right to be afraid. I!ve been thinking about
this for a long time, about what to do, about not just stumbling
into the future. My first loyalty is to you and Jonas and my job,
our jobs, are a distant second by now. We just haven!t talked
about it. We need a plan, Jimmy, if we!re going to come out
alive at the other end of what!s coming.”
"You!re right,” James said with conviction. "I guess I!ve
also been afraid to face the fact that we have no plan.”
"We!ve been going on with work as if all this was just
some spell of awful weather or even some earthquake killing
people, and somewhere else. Terrible, but just not to us.”
Sylvia snuggled closer to James. "We!re just stumbling to-
ward the inevitable we don!t want to face. We!ve been denying
the reality. We see it coming. We watch it happening and it still
seems unreal, like we!re outside looking in. But we!re not, even
if it seems safe here in Beijing. We!re in it with everyone
else.”
Sylvia looked at her husband with an expression of firm
resolution. The old Sylvia Carlyle was re-emerging.
"The thing is,” Sylvia said, "no one really has a plan. Not
the new President Kendrick. Not Zhou. Not Lal. Not Dr. Cran-
shaw. I see nothing stopping this train wreck we!re all ap-
proaching, rolling to it, but in slow motion. Everyone is just
flailing,” Sylvia said. "Time to acknowledge that and make our
own plans. Time is past worrying about anything other than our
own survival.” She stopped to catch her breath. "Fuck the jobs,
Jimmy. We need a plan.”

218


13

Jonas Marshall knew at an early age that he was different.

His skin color and his features did not quite match those of his
playmates. As he got older, he realized that this was because his
father was Caucasian and his mother was a Negro. He came to
understand that he was an interracial child.
A child discovering he is different can react to this realiza-
tion in many ways, only one of which is good for the child: to
think of himself as special. His parents were so accomplished
he reasoned that as their offspring he must have that potential
within him as well. Both his parents were scientists and data
and observation were the foundation of their worldview. His
mother, he noted early on, also had a well developed sixth
sense, an intuition that she valued and often let guide her ac-
tions. He learned to model all their behavior, including a trust in
his own intuition.
Jonas would listen as they explained in subtle ways, usual-
ly at dinner, the reasons for their daily decisions. He learned
that those decisions were not random, but based on specific
principles. Not only the science principles that explained every-
thing he saw happening in the physical world around him, if
one just dug deeply enough, but moral principles as well. He
saw that his parents believed that these principles served as a
reliable guide to choosing the path of right behavior, and he in-
ternalized those principles as well. Because of this, he gained
the trust of his parents at an early age..
And he was loved, unconditionally loved by his parents.
Unknown to him on a conscious level, the consequence of this
love was that he would never knowingly bring home to his fam-

219


ily shame or disappointment of his own making. And because
he was loved, he also was brave. When the family moved to
Beijing he decided, even at six, to immerse himself in the Chi-
nese experience. Instead of the English language school for the
children of American diplomats, he asked his parents if he
might attend a Chinese language school. Because they loved
him, his parents agreed to his request.
As Jonas got older, they trusted him with greater and
greater self-regulation. It was this growing trust that led to his
summer work on a distant farm at ten years old and every
summer thereafter. As a result, Jonas lived two lives: one he
shared daily with his parents and one at the farm. His farm life
was largely unknown to Sylvia and James except on a superfi-
cial level, the way tourists, for example, might know a foreign
city they visited for a few days. This was not from any intent to
deceive on Jonas!s part. It was just the way it was.
***
Lijuan is behaving strangely and I can!t figure out what!s
going on. She!s being kind of secretive and distant in a way. As
if I did something wrong. But I didn!t, at least not that I!m
aware of. Now that I think about it, mom and dad have been
strange too. What!s going on? I know dad!s work takes him to
some pretty awful places. I mean where there are a lot of people
dying or suffering. Maybe it!s something to do with work.
But that wouldn!t make Lijuan behave the way she is.
Maybe it!s the farm. Every year the struggle for a harvest has
been getting more and more difficult, but somehow they always
seem to manage. Some new problem, maybe. I mean, other than
global warming. That!s all anyone is talking about and how ter-
rible it is and how we all should have seen it coming and every-
220


one blaming everyone else until you realize that maybe they!re
all right. Everyone is to blame. But if everyone is to blame,
what!s the point in trying to find someone to blame?
I think we have to get used to the way things are and just
move on. Like adults are telling us all the time to do. They!re
always saying it. Just move on. Just move on. Just move on.
Like that ever solved anything.
Something must be going on at the farm. When I see Li-
juan, I!m going to ask her directly why she!s behaving in a way
that looks to me like worry. Maybe it!s Jiao. I didn!t think of
that. Maybe there!s something wrong with Jiao and everyone is
afraid to tell me.
***
Sylvia was putting the final touches on her plans for
Jonas!s thirteenth birthday party. In two days he would official-
ly be a teenager. Even though in China, where the naming of
numbers does not recognize this particular quirk of denomina-
tion, she would not allow the family relocation to Beijing to
deprive her son of this English language rite of passage. Also,
she did not want to ignore the fact that they were living in Chi-
na. Sylvia worked closely with Lijuan to create a Chinese flavor
to the celebration. Everything was planned, purchased and
stored, ready to be set up on Saturday morning while Jonas was
at football practice.
Jonas was not aware of the scale of the celebration for this
birthday. His parents made no mention of their extraordinary
plans. His birthday celebrations in the past had always been
strictly modest family affairs. He was expecting nothing differ-
ent this year. However, Sylvia had Lijuan contact Jonas!s teach-
ers and created an invitation list of his best friends from school.
221


Sylvia also hired a storyteller, a magician and a Chinese musi-
cal trio, a flutist, a mandolin player and a female singer. The
trio would entertain with traditional Chinese celebratory music.
They could not have fireworks, but the decorations and scrolls
commissioned by Sylvia were minor works of art. Friends of
Lijuan in the Beijing art community created them. Lijuan se-
creted them away until time for the party. The scrolls told the
story of life!s passages in symbols derived from Chinese
mythology. They were to be hung in a prescribed sequence
about the apartment.
Surprise parties are difficult to pull off, especially when
young boys are involved, but so far his friends had adhered to
their "oath of secrecy.”
Jonas went to bed early Friday evening and rose early Sat-
urday morning for football practice. On his way to the bus stop,
he saw Lijuan walking to their apartment. It surprised Jonas to
see her since she only worked five days a week for the family.
Jonas greeted her respectfully, but with surprise in his voice.
"Good morning, esteemed Lijuan,” Jonas said with a small
bow.
Lijuan looked anxious when she heard Jonas addressing
her. "Good morning,” was all she said and made to scurry on
past Jonas. Before she could do so, Jonas again addressed her.
"Lijuan, why are you here today? And have I offended you
in some way?”
Lijuan stopped and turned to Jonas. "No, certainly not,
young sir.”
"And yet, something seems wrong. Is everything normal at
the farm? Everyone is well?”
"Yes,” Lijuan replied. "Everyone is well.”
222


"But why are you here today?” Jonas asked, still con-
cerned.
"I must hurry. I am already late. Goodbye, young sir.” She
hurried past Jonas without answering his question. Her behavior
only convinced him the more that something terribly wrong was
afoot.
Three hours later, Jonas would forget his concerns when he
returned from football practice and re-entered his home where
his parents and a dozen schoolmates burst into a rousing Chi-
nese equivalent of "For He!s Jolly Good Fellow.”
***
In April of 2045 there was a minor earthquake in Wilkes
Land in Antarctica, but just large enough to separate the Totten
shelf from the Totten ice field. News of the Wilkes Land earth-
quake sent political shock waves around the world. It was an-
other one of those unpredictable and dreaded events that were
not part of any global climate change models. How could it be?
No one knew when an earthquake would strike. The usual im-
ages of death and destruction would not be measured in the ac-
customed units of human suffering. No one was killed and no
property was damaged; yet it would ultimately be the single
most devastating earthquake in human history.
Above Wilkes Land was the Antarctic Totten Glacier, five
hundred thousand square kilometers of ice and one of the
largest glaciers on Earth. This was field ice—land-based ice.
The Totten ice shelf, jutting out from where the land-based ice
field ended, was a monstrous island of floating ice. A cat-
astrophic tipping point had now been passed. The melting of
this much floating ice would not directly affect the sea level,
but the combined mass of this new breakaway segment of the

223


east Antarctic Totten ice shelf with the already floating ice from
the Thwaites and Larsen ice shelves in west Antarctica, repre-
sented a huge amount of fresh water added to the ocean locally.
Fresh water has a different density from salt water and re-
acts differently from salt water to the forces that create the
ocean!s currents. All this fresh water dumped into the sea was
already disrupting the flow pattern of the Circumpolar Current
that shielded the continent from intrusion by warmer water cur-
rents. The feared breaching of the Circumpolar Current by
warmer water would inevitably attack the field ice grounding
lines or anchor zones from below. The doomsday scenario of
Antarctic field free to slide or melt into the sea was now a dis-
tinct possibility.
The eastern land-based Totten Glacier ice catchment, as it
melts, will raise the ocean level by more than three meters
worldwide. The melting of the western Antarctic glaciers would
bring additional fresh water into the Circumpolar Current of the
Southern Ocean, producing even more accelerated melting of
the land-based Antarctic glaciers in a kind of vicious circle of
effects adding another potential three meter rise in ocean level
worldwide. The loss of water mass from the continent into the
sea would result in a reduction in the gravitational water
"hump” around Antarctica, resulting in yet another contribution
to the rise in ocean level.
At the beginning of the twenty-first century roughly one
quarter of the world!s human population lived in threatened
low-lying coastal cities. Many of these locations had already
been abandoned. However, there was simply no way to relocate
a quarter of the world!s human population paradoxically to wa-

224


ter-deficient inland locations. A melting Antarctica threatened
the lives of roughly two billion people.
The Wilkes Land earthquake tolled for many the predicted
coming of the four horsemen of the apocalypse: War, Famine,
Disease and Death. Many believed them now to be striding
from continent to continent.
***
The seat of the United States federal government was long
since relocated to Denver, Colorado. Washington, DC, along
with so many other coastal cities had to be abandoned. Because
of the federal government moving to Colorado, President
Kendrick had declared a financial state of emergency. He froze
wages and prices and suspended operations of all federal agen-
cies deemed non-essential, using a special board of counselors
he established by Executive Order to guide his choices for clo-
sure or suspension.
As the Chinese had done, President Kendrick ordered the
gradual termination of the raising and selling of herd animals.
Congress would work on a compensation bill, but meat from
herd animals was to become a thing of the past.
Through the invoking of an extension to Executive Order
13603, first signed during the Obama administration, President
Kendrick nationalized all food and water production, treatment
and distribution. Thus, water use and distribution were subject
to severe federal restrictions and regulations.
The President authorized the use of lethal force to turn
back unauthorized ships entering United States waters. Viola-
tion of the US borders became a capital offense because of the
ensuing drain on essential resources, and a direct threat to the
security of the nation The President canceled the order for the
internment of captured illegal aliens. A military tribunal would
225


try those captured entering the country illegally. If found to be
repeat offenders, the military would execute them. The revolv-
ing door was being decisively closed, as it was in every country
in Europe, and in China, Australia, Japan, most of southeast
Asia, every country south of Mexican-occupied Guatemala and
every country in northern Africa and the Middle East.
President Lal at first objected to these harsh matters as in-
compatible with the charter of The World Federation. His urg-
ing restraint meeting with no success with the American Presi-
dent, he turned his attention to President Zhou, whose circum-
stances and actions were even more dire than those of the Unit-
ed States. China was effectively invading the Russian Federa-
tion by a mass migration to Siberia. Here, too, Lal!s appeal for
restraint met with no success. Zhou had grown desperate and
was no long open to discussion on the matter of Siberia.
The migration into Siberia was duplicating a strategy that
had worked well in the past for China. After invading and an-
nexing Tibet, China authorized and encouraged a mass migra-
tion of Chinese into Tibet, effectively and permanently altering
the demographics and politics of the region. Since the Russian
Federation had no formal ties with The World Federation, Lal
was at a loss for a strategy to stop, much less reverse this simi-
lar Chinese migration into Siberia.
Unexpectedly, Lal received a telephone call on his private
cell phone number, known only to a small and select few. Paul
Latimer was not one of them, yet it was he on the line. His call
on Lal!s private line sent the message Latimer intended: there is
no place anyone can hide from The Network.
"Mr. President Lal, greetings from Berlin,” Latimer said
with exaggerated formality. "No doubt you are wondering how I

226


have this number. I intend for you to wonder. But I won!t waste
time on that. I have news for you, Mr. President. Can you stand
it?”
"Ah so, Paul Latimer. You are a man of exceptional re-
silience. I congratulate you on still being alive.”
"No thanks to the World Federation. Just not up to the task
are you?”
"Latimer, you have me on the phone. What is it you want
to say?”
Lal waited, letting Latimer play his hand.
"Germany has left The World Federation to join with the
Russians. Not tomorrow. Not in a week or a month. Now. They
wanted a seat at your table, and they took it when that was all
there was. Now they found a better table.”
Lal was stunned. "I don!t believe you.”
"Hmm. I never took you for a fool before. Would I lie
about something you could check with one phone call? No, Lal,
Germany is gone. And soon Saudi Arabia and Iran will be next.
They and virtually every oil-producing nation on Earth will join
them by the end of the year. Your sick dream is dying and my
triumph is just beginning. I get to watch as The World Federa-
tion suffers the death of a thousand cuts it so richly deserves.”
"Latimer. What is it you want? Why have you called?
"To gloat, Lal. Just to gloat,” Latimer said. And then the
connection indicator went dead.
Lal was struggling to process what he heard. He called the
German ambassador to The World Federation. There was no
response. He made further inquiries and learned that Herr
Schuler had left early in the morning for Berlin, along with his
entire staff.
227


Lal next placed a call to President Zhou Xiang. Zhou, he
was told, was in a meeting and could not be disturbed. They
assured Lal the president would get back to him as soon as he
could emerge from the meeting. Lal had no choice but to wait.
Fusion-based energy technology and materials were the
leverage The World Federation used to acquire and maintain
power. In reality, it was the only weapon Lal had to exert influ-
ence and demand compliance. He reached into his desk where
he had Sylvia Marshall!s most recent update on the worldwide
conversion to a hydrogen-based energy economy. He needed to
refresh himself about where they stood in the conversion pro-
gram.
Scanning the report that he had days earlier read in detail,
he began taking notes. There were only six countries in all that
had completely converted to hydrogen fuel cells or a combina-
tion of fuel cells and alternative energy sources such as wind,
solar, geothermal and tidal. Of the remaining members of The
World Federation, they expected less than fifty percent to be
free of fossil fuels within five years. After another ten more
years perhaps seventy percent would be free of fossil fuels. Ten
years.
Under more favorable world conditions, Lal mused, these
would be admirable accomplishments. But these were not fa-
vorable times. The consequence of almost two hundred years of
burning fossil fuels was piling up more rapidly than anyone
predicted. Sylvia Marshall!s report showed that with the col-
lapse of the Totten Ice Shelf and the consequent release of the
Totten Glacier field ice behind it, the sea level would rise more
rapidly than anyone projected. She predicted that in the next
two to five years seventy to eighty more major coastal cities

228


would have to be abandoned, along with thirty capital cities.
This would not happen all at once but gradually, turning the
news into a crisis a day.
Lal!s political team predicted the recriminations and the
search for whom to blame, already a flourishing industry, would
intensify to where virtually every afflicted country and The
World Federation itself would need to feed some flesh to the
sacrificial fire. Lal, himself, was not bulletproof from the ge-
niuses of hindsight. No one was bulletproof.
What was the American practice that former President
Llewelyn told him about years ago? Standard operating proce-
dure in America after a major crisis was a search for the guilty,
followed by the punishment of the innocent. Except now there
were no innocents. Neither the people nor the politicians ever
took the scientists!$ dire warnings seriously. Lal concluded it
was too late to stop or even slow down global warming. Project
Nemesis, created to stop the extraction of fossil fuel worldwide,
was dead before it even got truly started. It was too late. The
effects of the sped up advance of the Totten glacier would al-
ways be ahead of any move to reduce fossil fuel usage.
Lal, who had been pacing back and forth in his office,
walked to his desk and, opening a drawer, removed an incense
burner and a single stick of incense. Taking a small box of
wooden matches from his pocket, he lit the stick and then blew
it out, allowing the resulting smoke to diffuse into the room. He
walked to one of the armchairs and sat, awaiting Zhou!s call. He
would do his best peacefully to contain the invasion by Chinese
peasants and farmers into Siberia.
The world was more and more spiraling out of control. He
needed a plan for staunching the flow of Chinese migration to

229


Siberia. He needed a plan for keeping the World Federation
together, and he needed a plan to replace Project Nemesis. But
he was running out of time and running out of options.%

230


14

Paul Latimer was awakened unexpectedly from a deep

sleep after only three hours. At first, the banging on the door
seemed to him internal, a part of a dream that he could listen to
and experience with no need actually to do anything. Slowly, as
if he was watching an approaching train wreck, the image got
closer and more distinct and the clickity-clack got louder and
louder until the image exploded in a flash of awareness that it
was his door that was getting pounded. Reconnecting with his
surroundings, he rose from his bed, rubbing his face vigorously
to re-awaken his senses to the moment. Only a handful of peo-
ple, people high up in The Network organization knew of his
whereabouts in Pakistan.
The nation had become a failed state. Intractable corrup-
tion at every level of government, even in the face of pre-
dictable disaster, had doomed the nation. Water was the prob-
lem. And mismanagement and population growth and climate
change and bad luck. Over the years, Pakistan had turned from
a mere disaster to a living vision of hell. That!s why he was
there.
In Pakistan, eighty percent of the fresh water, no matter
what the source—river, reservoir, ground water, wells—were
declared hopelessly polluted and unfit to drink. The people had
no choice but to drink the contaminated water, and most be-
came ill. Many died. While money was used to fund a nuclear
arms program, no money was used to build dams and reservoirs
to capture and control water. What little water Pakistan was
able to get, from whatever source, it largely wasted through in-
efficient irrigation and virtually no organized water manage-
231


ment. Since the middle of the twentieth century to the approxi-
mate middle of the twenty-first century, Pakistan had built six
dams and two hydroelectric projects. India, by contrast, had
built five thousand regulatory dams for water management and
control and ten hydroelectric plants.
Pakistan!s farm productivity was among the worst in the
world. Politicians and farmers with political influence regularly
stifled modern, but more costly, farming strategies. By 2030,
the country could only produce enough food to feed seventy
percent of its population. The rest died. However, the high birth
rate continued to replace the losses with a substantial excess left
over.
In the beginning of the twenty-first century, the population
of Pakistan was one hundred and fifty million people. By 2025
it was one hundred eighty million people and by 2050, in only
five more years, the population will be over two hundred mil-
lion. Feeding these people was an impossible task for Pakistan,
now and for the foreseeable future.
Where there is such misery, disease, hunger and death ter-
rorism sees an opportunity. From ten significant, distinct, mili-
tant, organized terror groups operating from within Pakistan in
the mid-20s, by 2040 there were hundreds. The rallying cry for
all of them was #death to India!$for stealing its water from rivers
flowing through India first and then into Pakistan. These mili-
tant groups, having one way or the other acquired significant
military equipment, were often responsible for cross-border ex-
changes of artillery fire with India. The Pakistani army, seeing
the exchanges as pointless, did not try to prevent them. The
Pakistani military command decided any effort to intervene
would be a waste of their ammunition budget.

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The impotent central government, such as it was, no longer
convincingly ruled anything. The Pakistani military operated
more or less independently of the central government. Taxation
was negligible because the people had nothing to give. So, the
sale of narcotics actually funded the illusory business of gov-
erning happening in Islamabad. Absence of enforcement of the
laws provided money laundering opportunities for international
crime cartels through the banks in the capital city, Islamabad.
There was a brief period of privatization of many govern-
ment operations. That, however, was halted and reversed in
2032. The government essentially nationalized most en-
trepreneurial enterprises and used any business profits to fund
the military and its own more or less self-serving operations.
And of course, corruption tainted every act of governance.
The Network was supplying India with information regard-
ing Pakistani political and military intentions. Latimer had
spent two weeks in Islamabad recruiting for The Network, but it
was in Lahore where he intended to help his new client, the
Chinese.
Following Latimer!s meeting with the Chinese operative
Chen, he had second thoughts about acquiring China as a client
for The Network. He saw multiple opportunities with China
that meshed with his other intrigues. The Chinese were not
happy with the balance of power between India and Pakistan
swinging to the Indians so decisively with the collapse of the
Pakistani economy and were intent on bringing Pakistan, if not
into overall parity with India, at least above its current failed
state status.
For decades the popular sentiment in Pakistan was to con-
front India militarily over its alleged violations of the Indus Wa-

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ters Treaty of 1960. This treaty, among the longest surviving
treaties in the world of international agreements, divided the
waters of the Indus Valley Rivers between India and Pakistan.
This treaty had survived eighty-five years, a period that includ-
ed two wars and innumerable terror attacks. It assigned three of
the Indus Valley rivers to India and three to Pakistan. However,
the three rivers that were assigned to Pakistan flowed first
through India. India built thousands of dams on its rivers, and
those of the Indus Valley were no exception. India denied that
its dams diminished in any way the water allotment to Pakistan.
However, with the downward spiral of Pakistan!s water deficit,
militant groups needed no encouragement to point the finger of
blame not only to Pakistan!s failed leadership, but also to the
aggressive water policies of their neighbor to the south.
***
When the migrating Chinese severed the Trans-Siberian
railway at Irkutsk just west of Lake Baikal, Russia began send-
ing troops and equipment east, massing along the Ob River
west of Novosibirsk.
Despite the Russian military buildup, the Chinese migrants
continued to pour into southern Siberia, having passed unhin-
dered through Mongolia. The Federation estimated the number
of ethnic Chinese living in Siberia before the new migration at
about five million compared to a total Siberian population of
about seventy million. There had been longstanding concern
about Chinese expansion into Siberia, but the last Chinese ex-
pansion had been west into Tibet, not north to Russia. The only
other large scale Chinese migration had been to the northeast,
into Manchuria. However, global warming was creating new
migration routes and new bedfellows.

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Irkutsk was fast becoming a Chinese staging area for the
People!s Liberation Army. Igor Tamarov, President of the Russ-
ian Federation, described with some merit the migration north
of large numbers of Chinese as an invasion of Russia under the
cover of humanitarian necessity. Irkutsk airport, upgraded in
2024, provided long runways, advanced radar and communica-
tion equipment, and a strategic location near the Mongolian
border. It was a choke point for the Trans-Siberian railway.
With each passing day, the Chinese position at Irkutsk was be-
coming more strongly militarized and more permanent.
These Chinese actions were long speculated upon, but for
several years two things had prevented a coordinated Chinese
move into Siberia. One was the known Russian nuclear arsenal.
Even though aging it was still a sobering impediment to rash
behavior. The second reason for inaction by China was the ab-
sence of a genuine need to do so.
Global warming changed all that. With Chinese harvests
failing or greatly reduced, famine was already a growing wound
in the Chinese body politic. Lower Siberia, at least, had become
a vast source of newly temperate, arable land, well watered
with an acceptably long growing season. All it lacked was Chi-
nese farmers. The mass migration into southern Siberia was
now addressing that paucity.
Yet, the Russian arsenal was still a matter of concern. La-
timer!s new Chinese client needed to know Russia!s strategic
intensions. The deep penetration by The Network into the Russ-
ian operational labyrinth was worth whatever it cost to the Chi-
nese.
Likewise, the Russians needed to know the Chinese inten-
tions. Satellite surveillance of Chinese military movement and

235


deployments were only the visible part of the picture. The Net-
work demonstrated abilities that the Russians considered a nec-
essary resource.
Babayar Pantulga, and other agents, were constantly updat-
ing Chinese activity along the migration routes through Mongo-
lia. Network resources in Beijing provided insight at the deep
Chinese command level.
Latimer had already told his Russian contacts that annexa-
tion of Siberia by China was probably inevitable. Latimer had
become a master at juggling countries with competing interests.
Over and over, his Chinese client asked him the same
question. "How could Russia come to accept the large-scale
change in the demographics of Siberia?” Finally, Paul Latimer
would have an answer for his Chinese client, President Zhou,
himself. Pakistan would provide the shock that would alter the
psychology of two nations and defuse the threat of a Russian/
Chinese exchange of nuclear strikes.
***
The pounding on Paul Latimer!s door had not stopped and
he was now reasonably awake. He walked to the door of his
hotel room in the Ravi Town part of Lahore, irritated by the
sound of the continued pounding. Holding his handgun behind
him, he asked who was there.
"Jamal,” was the answer. Latimer quickly opened the door
and let his visitor in and just as quickly closed the door.
"Al-salaamu alayku salaam,” Latimer said in Arabic.
"Wa alayka al-salaam,” Jamal replied.
Latimer and Jamal then leaned forward slightly and kissed
each other on the cheek.

236


Latimer offered Jamal a seat at the small kitchen table in
the center of the room.
"Would you like some coffee?” he asked his visitor.
"Yes, Paul. Thank you. That would be most welcome. It is
cold out this morning and I!m afraid I caught a little chill.” Ja-
mal sat down and began rubbing his hands briskly together.
"Also, I left immediately to see you upon getting word from
Bilal Tabir that he approved a meeting with you.”
"Excellent,” Paul said as he began preparing a pot of Turk-
ish coffee. He used bottled water that he boiled the night before.
Even so-called bottled water was not safe without boiling. Vir-
tually all the Lahore hotels used tap water to fill the bottles and
then resealed them.
When the coffee was ready, Latimer offered some biscuits
to Jamal, who readily accepted them.
"When will we meet with Bilal?”
"We!ll meet in the Youhanabadh zone,” Jamal replied. "We
can leave as soon as I finish your fine coffee.”
Once they exited the hotel, Jamal hailed two rickshaws. He
gave the drivers directions. At first the drivers were reluctant to
go, but Jamal offered more money and they agreed. Jamal
turned to Latimer just as he was stepping up to take his seat. "It
is better that we go separately. You never know.” Latimer just
nodded his approval.
Youhanabadh was the largest slum in Asia. Once a Christ-
ian colony within Lahore, in 2029 angry Muslims claiming sev-
eral members of the community had blasphemed the Koran and
burned it to the ground. Later, homeless Muslims re-inhabited
it. It was a warren of tents, sheet metal shacks, and half-built
brick structures. Drainage ditches functioned as a makeshift
237


sewage disposal system. Human waste and excrement ran down
the center of the streets and connected with many other such
ditches throughout the slum, eventually discharging into the
Ravi River. If there was no rain, the ditches went dry and stag-
nant. To newcomers, the smell was almost unbearable.
Latimer was used to meeting in unsavory places, but the
stench of Youhanabadh challenged his adaptive skills. The
smell of the ditch water, the stench from the countless mounds
of organic waste and the stifling closeness of the air once they
were well inside the colony almost overwhelmed him.
Several armed men stopped the rickshaw operators. Jamal
got out of his rickshaw to speak with the men who soon cleared
them to continue on. At the next checkpoint armed men in-
structed Jamal and Latimer that they would change to a single
rickshaw. The two rickshaw drivers that carried them this far
turned and retraced their path. When they were out of sight, a
single rickshaw appeared from around a nearby shack. One of
the armed men frisked Latimer and Jamal for any weapons or
electronic devices. He then gave the driver directions, which
neither Jamal nor Latimer could hear. They were told to enter
the rickshaw together and that it would take them to Bilal Tabir.
Latimer believed that all militant terror groups were fools
trying #to make hog shit smell like eucalyptus.!$They were easi-
ly maneuvered if you played to their pretensions. Latimer was
prepared with a big play.
Sitting in the rickshaw, while the young man pulling it kept
up a steady pace, Latimer reviewed his commission.
Conceal his Chinese connection with this transaction.
Convey to Bilal Tabir that he, Paul Latimer, had access to three
tactical nuclear devices to be sold only as a package, each with

238


a reduced yield of one kiloton of TNT, to facilitate close-in de-
ployment. This yield was approximately one fifteenth of the
yield of the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. He would explain that
the devices were of equivalent size to the US nuclear artillery
shell that could be fired from any standard eight-inch howitzer.
He wanted two million US dollars for each shell. For an addi-
tional hundred thousand dollars apiece, he would also supply
the howitzers.
They would complete the deal within one month of this
meeting with payment wired to an account that he would pro-
vide the day before the scheduled transaction. He would remain
with Bilal Tabir while they verified the transfer of funds and as
surety until Tabir!s group received all the material as promised
the next day. Tabir and Latimer would mutually agree on the
location for transferring the devices. Tabir would guarantee safe
conduct to and from the transfer location for Latimer!s party.
There would be no questions asked or answered except where
and when for the transfer and the proffering of the account
number to which the money would be sent.
Satisfied with his commission, he looked calmly at the
scene rolling by him. There was squalor everywhere he looked.
What was formerly a Christian community consisting mostly of
brick, one-room buildings, some with running water and some
even with electricity, was now a filthy breeding ground for dis-
ease.
Latimer had witnessed scenes like this before. Flies were
everywhere, and when the children slept the flies gathered
around their eyes, noses and mouths. The children slept without
so much as a twitch, so accustomed were they to the crowd of
flies crawling over their faces.

239


The rickshaw finally stopped in front of a large tent. De-
spite the heat, the flaps of the tent were closed. There were sev-
eral armed men surrounding the tent. A man, evidently waiting
for their arrival, emerged from the tent and greeted Latimer and
Jamal with only a nod. He gestured with his hand, indicating
they should both follow him into the tent.
It was stifling inside and with the constant background
stench Latimer was once again surprised at how people could
adapt to these vile conditions. Nevertheless, the interior was
spacious, devoid of clutter, with four large pillows arranged in a
rectangle. In the center of the rectangle was a large tray with a
silver teapot over a burning candle. This pot contained concen-
trated tea. Beside this was another carafe of slowly simmering
water, also over a flame. The heated water would dilute the
concentrated tea when poured into the gold-trimmed glass
teacups.
Bilal Tabir stood beside a pillow facing the entrance. He
was surprisingly short. A pipsqueak warlord, Latimer thought.
His hair, uncovered except for a small skullcap, was gray and
cut short. He wore round, wire-frame glasses and his bright
green eyes were unwavering in his assessment of the two
strangers who entered his tent. Instead of the usual full beard,
he had a carefully cropped gray goatee that had a small, rene-
gade dark brown patch on his jaw line betraying the color of his
youth. Tabir waited as the men walked to stand beside two pil-
lows opposite his and with their backs to the entrance. The
fourth pillow remained unattended.
After a brief exchange of greetings, Tabir gestured for the
men to sit. Tabir waved an arm to the two men showing they
should help themselves to the tea while an attendant entered
and discreetly lit incense sticks in holders placed at the corners
240


of the tent. Latimer recognized this as an accommodation to
them because they were new to the smells of the ghetto. How-
ever, the burning incense didn!t work as Tabir probably intend-
ed. The conflicting odors only made things worse for Latimer,
but he made no sign of acknowledging the lighting of the in-
cense or of its unfortunate effect.
Tabir turned to Jamal and spoke for a long time to him in
Urdu. When he finished, Jamal turned to Latimer and translated
Tabir!s comments. Tabir had told Jamal that an opportunity like
that which Latimer was offering, like any unexpected good for-
tune, was suspect. He wondered how Latimer decided to make
this offer to him and not to some other, perhaps one who could
pay even more than the quoted asking price. He also wondered
what Latimer expected he might do with these devices. Surely
they did not believe Tabir would simply put them on display as
a kind of boast. Finally, he wanted to know if the devices were
traceable back to their source if discovered.
Latimer sat silently for several moments before respond-
ing. He went over several scenarios in his mind with their likely
outcome. He chose the simplest.
"Jamal, please tell Tamir that I am authorized to discuss
only three things. One. Does he want to make a deal? Two. If
yes, can he complete the deal within a month or less? Three.
Does he have a safe transfer site?”
"With all due respect, Paul, that may be a little overly di-
rect and perceived as rude, perhaps,” Jamal said.
Latimer maintained eye contact with Tabir while speaking
to Jamal. "Tell him exactly what I said, please.”
Tabir maintained a neutral expression. He took a sip from
his teacup and placed it carefully on the silver tray. He turned to
241


the attendant who was standing by the door and gave a small
gesture. The man instantly left the tent. The three occupants of
the tent remained silent, waiting. After less than a minute, the
attendant returned with another man. He was Arab but not
dressed in the traditional Arab thawb. Instead, he wore western
slacks and a white, short-sleeve shirt open at the neck. He was
of medium height and clean-shaven. He smiled broadly as he
entered the tent, almost jovial, as one might expect of a banker
discovering unexpected capital.
He quickly exchanged a salaam greeting with Tabir and a
handshake with Latimer and Jamal, after which he sat on the
remaining cushion.
"I am Sayed Sarwah, Mr. Tabir!s, shall we say, business
manager.” Even with his broad smile, he kept a shrewd eye on
Latimer.
"So,” he said to Latimer, "where are we?” Latimer re-
mained silent. This did not seem to trouble Mr. Sarwah, who
turned to look at Tabir. He and Tabir then engaged in a lengthy
back and forth in Urdu, tempered, no doubt, by the fact that Ja-
mal knew the language as well.
"Okay. Mr. Tabir says yes, yes, yes to your questions. Do
you want us to continue communications through Mr. Jamal?”
"Yes,” Latimer said, rising. "Excellent. For now, I would
like you to continue with Mr. Jamal. That may change. I as-
sume, Mr. Sarwah, that communication will proceed now
through you, at least for the moment.”
"Precisely, good sir. But as with you, expect some changes
on our side as well.” He rose and walked over to Latimer to
shake his hand, grinning again. "Our men will arrange for your
return to your hotel. Safe journey.” Jamal rose now as well, and
242


both men turned to Tabir to make a slight bow of goodbye. Ja-
mal thanked Tabir in Urdu, on behalf of Latimer, for his cour-
tesy.
Unexpectedly, Bilal Tabir took several steps closer to La-
timer, close enough to be verging on an invasion of personal
space. Looking directly into Latimer!s eyes, he said in perfect
English, "We met once before, Mr. Latimer. I am sure you don!t
remember, but it was at an embassy party in Washington. I was
a student at Georgetown University then. You were Vice Presi-
dent. My father, may his soul be at peace, was a minor official
working on the Pakistan ambassador!s staff. The lies your Gen-
eral Slaider told the world only a few months after that party
changed everything, did they not? I escaped America with my
life. My father was not so lucky.” His brow furrowed as he
studied Latimer!s expression.
Latimer said nothing, only returning Tabir!s direct gaze,
expressionless. After a moment he bowed slightly to Tabir, and
then he shook hands with Sarwah before he and Jamal turned to
leave the tent.
When Latimer and Jamal were once again outside the tent,
Sarwah remained inside watching the tent flaps through which
the two agents of Providence had passed out into the slum, un-
consciously wiping his hands on his thighs.
Latimer and Jamal were almost out of Youhanabadh when
they heard gunfire erupting in the direction from which they
came. Unperturbed, the rickshaw driver continued pedaling.
***
Once again the summer monsoon rains failed to appear so
once again the hoped for water bounty failed to appear as well.
The Tibetan plateau was becoming parched and the runoff that
243


fed the Yellow and Yangtze Rivers, rivers that until recently
were flush with water, also failed. The reduced flow of these
two great rivers was devastating to Chinese harvests. Serious
nationwide famine had become a tragic reality.
Likewise, Bangladesh was receiving less water from the
rivers that originated in India, but not because the glacial melt
had failed. India had built so many dams for irrigating its own
fields that the flow downstream of all these dams was being es-
sentially turned off. The same effect was being felt in Pakistan.
Despite the assertions by Indian officials that their dams were
not depriving countries downstream of their allotment of water
from rivers passing through or originating in India, India was
gradually controlling the fate of those nations downstream of its
rivers.
There was not much Bangladesh could do about the Indian
usurpation of water, but Pakistan was a different story. The Pak-
istanis may be thirsting for water, but they were flush with
weapons, legitimate and otherwise.
So far, cool heads had prevailed.

244


15

It was a sweltering day in Delhi, at least 38°C. The leather

seat of his taxi was so hot it almost burned Latimer through his
trousers. The streets were full of people, as they usually were,
despite the heat. He had spent the day walking along Connaught
Circus, the outer ring that circles Connaught Place. Connaught
Place was first built in the early 1900s by the British and had
become one of the largest commercial, banking and business
centers in India.
Latimer had time before his clandestine dinner appoint-
ment with an undersecretary in the Department of Investment
and Public Asset Management. He asked the driver to take him
to the Chandni Chowk area of Delhi, near the teaming bazaar
and the Red Fort, so named for its massive red sandstone outer
walls.
Despite his unremarkable clothes, as soon as the driver let
him off, beggars surrounded him. He angrily pushed them away
and after a few moments they deserted him for a more likely
target—an obvious tourist replete with guidebook, camera, wife
and child. He chose not to enter the Fort with its many muse-
ums, but preferred to walk about the streets at random.
There were people everywhere. The density of people was
so great that there was almost no space between the pedestrians
as they filled the sidewalks and street, giving the impression of
a sea of humanity, ebbing and flowing. Even though he had
been to Delhi several times before, he still found the overflow-
ing streets of the bazaar breathtaking each time he navigated
them.

245


Street vehicular traffic was necessarily very slow and when
cars came to a halt, children would rush up to the windows with
their hands out begging for a few coins. Latimer watched as one
young beggar boy obstinately followed a taxi from stop after
stop until he finally saw hands extending from the taxi to re-
ward the boy for his perseverance.
Commercial stalls lined both sides of the street, selling a
wide profusion of merchandise. Some were selling cloth, some
pottery, and some jewelry or artworks. Fruit stands were
everywhere. At frequent intervals along the street there were
pitiful beggars, blind or crippled children or old persons lying
on mats on the sidewalk with an alms bowl nearby that pedes-
trians silently navigated around after dropping in a coin or two.
About the middle of the street on which Latimer found himself,
he saw several men pissing into the open street urinals. Vivid,
strikingly colorful flowers hung like festoons everywhere.
At the corner of the street he was walking down there was
a man, age impossible to estimate, lying asleep on a cot about
six inches off the ground. He was almost entirely brown. His
skin was dark brown, his hair matted and dirty brown, his eyes
were brown and his simple cloth covering was brown. Only the
whites of his eyes and his teeth relieved the total brownness of
the fellow.
Further down the next street he saw a man in a business
suit standing idly on several sheets of newspaper, barefoot ex-
cept for his socks, while a street vendor did an on-the-spot shoe
repair. Several feet away, sitting on a wooden vegetable box, a
man was getting a haircut. Further yet down the street, at the
next corner, was a display of fruits and vegetables for sale. La-
timer purchased nothing from street vendors that he could not
peel.
246


He entered a small shop to buy a pipe. The purchase took
time because of the bargaining ritual required of all seasoned
travelers to India. The pipe he wanted had an exotic design with
intricate carvings on the bowl and stem. The vendor was
pleased with how the negotiation went, and when completed he
presented Latimer with a small gift in appreciation for his busi-
ness.
When Latimer left the store he continued on his random
stroll. Several blocks down, he entered an obvious auto repair
area. Every vehicle in Delhi, it seemed to Latimer, was old and
hanging on by a thread, so there was a busy industry of small
repair shops that kept everything running.
Finally, Latimer was ready to go to his hotel to rest a bit
before his meeting later that evening. He hailed a bicycle rick-
shaw and told the driver to take him to the Oberoi Maidens Ho-
tel. Unlike the Leela Palace Hotel, the most magnificent in Del-
hi with its exuberant splendor, the Maidens, magisterially re-
served, dating from the British colonial era of India. Its day had
passed, and it served mostly as a kind of "overflow” hotel when
the five-star hotels in New Delhi needed to accommodate over-
booked clients. It served Latimer!s needs well.
Latimer watched from the side of the hotel entrance as
guests arrived. In this land where "labor intensive” was a virtue,
if a guest had three bags, three porters would carry them. If five
bags, then five porters. Reducing the need for manual labor was
not a valued business priority. Occupying idle hands was the
higher priority in India, with its population of almost two bil-
lion people. Latimer entered the hotel and walked to the small
elevator that took him to the second floor where his room
opened onto the street. He quickly fell asleep.

247


The sound of bells coming from the street awakened him.
Moving to the window he watched a procession of convertible
cars with tops down, rickshaws, bicycles and elephants, all
elaborately decorated in honor of a wedding. The young couple
rode on a gold-painted throne atop an especially festooned ele-
phant. Musicians in the procession played continuously. A
crowd of people as diverse as the kinds of vehicles in the pro-
cession gathered along the street to watch and cheer.
After a while, Latimer turned away from the window and
gave his attention to preparing himself for his scheduled re-
cruitment meeting.
***
The front page of the Times of India carried a seven-col-
umn headline and only one story, "India Under Atomic Attack.”
Newspapers everywhere in Delhi sold out, but a courier brought
Latimer a copy from the Vijayanandi plant where the Times is
printed. Latimer skimmed the article with interest, but not sur-
prise.
The first kiloton atomic artillery shell struck the Wular
Lake Dam. Two more nuclear artillery shells followed quickly,
striking one irrigation and one hydroelectric dam each. Attacks
occurred on all three rivers, the Indus, the Jhelum and the
Chenab, originating in India but flowing to Pakistan. Although
deaths were limited to the workers at the three facilities receiv-
ing the attacks, the facilities themselves were completely de-
stroyed, following which the rivers flowed freely through the
resulting flooded ravines.
The newspaper explained high radiation levels following
the attacks made rescue and assessment tasks difficult. The na-
tion!s military, placed on highest alert, preceded Prime Minister

248


Ashok declaring a wartime general mobilization. The Pakistani
government denied any knowledge or involvement in the at-
tacks, although grateful for the much-needed release of water
"illegally usurped by the Indian government in violation of the
Indus Waters Treaty of 1960.” Pakistan pledged support to India
and said it was engaged in actively hunting down the rebel
group believed responsible for the attacks.
President Lal of The World Federation, the Times declared,
was sending high level envoys to both Delhi and Islamabad to
urge restraint in reacting to this "worst terrorist attack in the his-
tory of the world.” There was the fear, the Times continued, that
many India legislators might regard the Pakistani claims of ter-
rorists being responsible as a charade to divert responsibility
from the Pakistan government. Already there were calls within
the government for immediate retaliation with wide ranging and
crippling strategic bombing of Pakistan, including the use of
nuclear weapons.
President Lal urged that India let the world community es-
tablish other means of punishment for the Pakistani rogue ele-
ments than an exchange of nuclear attacks. But, the Times as-
serted, the mood in the capital was grim and there was no guar-
antee India could refrain from a severe military response.
Latimer and his Chinese clients were counting on the fear
of mutual destruction to keep a lid on the conflict. Despite
decades of hostile relations between India and Pakistan, and
several inconclusive mini-wars, the region steadfastly avoided
all-out war. Latimer calculated that the Indians would not
launch a full-scale attack against Pakistan, knowing they could
respond in kind.

249


Nevertheless, Latimer decided it was time to get out of In-
dia, his job complete with the world!s attention for once drawn
away from the daily stories of environmental calamities. The
intended audience was really Russia, with an example of where
nuclear confrontation can lead.
***
"How the fuck did this happen?” President Kendrick asked
his National Security Advisor, Joe Benson. "A fucking terrorist
nuclear attack! We!ve spent decades keeping these weapons
away from terrorists. How the fuck did they get their hands on
these shells. No one even makes the goddamn things anymore.
It!s got to be one of the crazy Middle East fuckers, Iran or Saudi
Arabia. Or maybe North Korea. No, probably not North Korea.
No, and probably not any of the Middle East crazies either.
Anyway, they never had any atomic artillery to give away, at
least to our best knowledge. Maybe … shit, I don!t know.”
Frustrated and realizing he was rambling, the President stopped.
"We figure the attacks killed maybe fifteen hundred work-
ers,” Joe Benson said, "and the dams are a complete loss. Thank
god it didn!t happen here.”
Benson stopped, waiting to see which way the President
wanted to go. After waiting for the President to begin again, but
seeing that he was not going to, Benson continued.
"Mr. President, the highest priority now is to stabilize the
emotional and military factors. We need to keep everyone in
place. Pakistan has taken some helpful steps already, but India
is the problem right now. They need something that will substi-
tute for the emotional satisfaction of retaliation against, who…?

250


They don!t even know yet. No group has claimed
responsibility.”
"What do you think I should do, Joe?”
"Sir, I believe it is urgent that you release an immediate
statement that you will fly before the weekend to Delhi in a
show of support for the India government and people. If we can
arrange it, you can announce that you have asked the Pakistani
President to meet with you in Delhi as well. Lal and Zhou will
need to be there. The longer we keep the lights flashing, the
bells and whistles going, the more time there will be for Pa-
kistan to find out the who and the why. And the more time to
cool down the Indian military and politicians.”
"Alright, let!s make it happen,” the President said, begin-
ning to rise from his chair.
"There!s just one thing, sir.”
"Oh?” the President said as he let himself back down to his
chair.
"Well, Mr. President, there is the safety issue. Whoever did
this got well within Indian territory without detection to pull
this off. And we don!t know if they have any more devices or
whether they just shot their load. You might get into harm!s way
by going to Delhi.”
The President remained silent, thinking about Benson!s
concern.
"We could have the meeting in Beijing or some other loca-
tion outside India where it would be too short notice to organize
another such attack,” Benson suggested.
The President mulled this proposal over. Finally, he stood
up and made his decision.

251


"No, it must be in Delhi. That is the psychological center
of gravity for this mess, and anywhere else would seem cow-
ardly and insincere. Joe, make it happen in Delhi. Get with the
crisis team and also start scheduling me for statements, inter-
views—the works. For starters, I want to issue a statement
about my going to Delhi and I also want to address the country
by nine o!clock Eastern tonight.”
As Benson was walking to the door of the Oval Office to
leave, the President called to him. "And Joe, let!s find out who
the fuck provided the ordnance.”
***
The arrival of the three Presidents was almost as big a sto-
ry as the reason for their visit. Each President had flown first to
England!s Heathrow Airport on their official aircrafts. There
they transferred, against all security protocols, to an Air India
plane for the ceremonial landing together at Indira Gandhi In-
ternational Airport.
The crowd at the airport to greet the Presidents when they
arrived was massive as only can happen in India or China and
largely restrained, except for occasional protesters who had in-
filtrated the crowd. As soon as they began their chanting, secu-
rity forces hustled them away. None in the crowd objected.
The Presidents quickly transferred to waiting limousines
and the accompanying procession of dignitaries in their sepa-
rate vehicles. The various security forces made their way along
with and in advance of the dignitaries to the Leela Palace Hotel
in the Chanakyapuri area diplomatic enclave. For security rea-
sons The Leela stood empty, awaiting all the high level delega-
tions.

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This was an unprecedented event. Every public relations
resource heralded this as the convergence of the three most
powerful people on Earth. Carefully screened photographers
enjoyed widely accessible photo opportunities. But no speech-
es. Everything kept moving. It clearly represented a dangerous
terrorist opportunity.
Security forces flawlessly balanced providing an impene-
trable protective screen around Lal, Kendrick and Zhou while at
the same time making the three presidents visible to all. The
uneventful arrival at the Leela Palace was exactly what the se-
curity forces planned for and achieved. The Prime Minister of
India, with the Prime Minister of Pakistan standing beside him,
greeted the procession at the hotel portico with its glass ceiling
to protect guests and visitors from the elements.
The ceiling was attached at one end to the hotel structure
and supported at the far end by two monumental statues of ele-
phants that Kendrick immediately found clumsy and tasteless,
an opinion he kept to himself. Once inside the hotel it became
immediately clear why the word "Palace” was part of the name
of the hotel. Everything was both on a palatial scale while re-
plete with artistic adornments and inlays of the minutest detail.
The hotel was clearly constructed in a work environment where
labor hours were not a significant cost consideration.
After a brief ceremony for the benefit of the news media,
the presidents all dispersed to their assigned suites in the hotel.
The formal meetings would be held later.
***
The Pakistan military high command determined that it
was a radical group embedded in Youhanabadh that was re-
sponsible for the attack on the Indian dams. Which one, they

253


could not say, so they torched the entire district. It would be a
powerful lesson, they decided, to teach the consequences of
harboring terrorists in their midst. The military high command
did not ask permission to do this. It never occurred to them to
ask.
The operation began on the third day of the presidential
meetings in Delhi. The day was calm, with virtually no wind.
They dropped incendiaries into the middle of the district first.
While these flames were spreading, bulldozers were being
trucked in and unloaded around the periphery of the district.
They quickly began creating a cleared and leveled firebreak
around Youhanabadh so that the fire would not spread beyond
the district. Security forces made no effort either to help or hin-
der the three hundred thousand Muslim residents in their effort
to escape the blaze. The death toll was fifteen thousand dead,
about ten times the number that died from the attacks on the
three Indian dams.
The news of the Youhanabadh attack reached Delhi in real
time via numerous satellite feeds. The Pakistan military calcu-
lated that their action would strengthen the hand of their Prime
Minister. The headline on the front page of the Times of India
read, "Pakistan Deals Swift Blow to Terrorists.” The sub-head-
line read, "Source of Nuclear Weapons Still a Mystery.”
First photos of the aftermath of the Youhanabadh attack
quickly followed, showing an almost completely flattened land-
scape reminiscent of photos of Hiroshima. The fire consumed
anything flammable. Metal shacks had collapsed, melted by the
heat. Brick structures stood roofless and empty.
All India rejoiced.

254


Lal dispatched James Marshall to determine what The
World Federation could do to assist the victims of the razing of
Youhanabadh.
The actions of the Pakistani military had their intended ef-
fect. Pressure on India to respond militarily dropped dramatical-
ly and the meeting of the three Presidents devolved into a series
of satisfying photo opportunities. By the evening of the fifth
day, plans were being laid for all the foreign leaders to return to
their countries and for the Leela Palace to return to its normal
business as the premier hotel in India.
President Zhou decided he must have a private talk with
President Kendrick before they dispersed and went their sepa-
rate ways. His staff quickly arranged the meeting. When Zhou
arrived at Kendrick!s suite, the American President welcomed
him warmly. After a few moments of casual conversation, Zhou
asked if they could have the suite to themselves. President
Kendrick motioned to his staff, who quickly left the room.
Before sitting down to talk, Kendrick asked if Zhou would
like a drink. Zhou accepted and soon they both were sitting
comfortably, sipping on very good, chilled white Bordeaux.
Kendrick waited patiently for Zhou to explain the purpose of
the meeting. After taking a large swig of his wine, reducing it
by half, Zhou began.
"Ricky, we were lucky this time. We may not be so lucky
next time.”
Kendrick saw this as stating the obvious and remained
silent, giving Zhou time to develop his thesis.
"We both know the next flash point will be, if it isn!t al-
ready—the Mongolian/Siberian border. I know you have your
own border challenges you!re dealing with, but we!re desperate

255


and for the same reasons the Pakistanis are desperate—food and
water. I cannot, I will not sit and watch my people drift relent-
lessly into famine and death on a truly frightening scale. I can-
not and will not sit and watch the ever more favorable Siberian
land denied us. I will be frank with you, Ricky. We will use that
land. The only questions that remain are how and with what
consequences.”
He paused, weighing his words. Kendrick remained silent.
Then Zhou began again.
"This episode with India and Pakistan has crystallized in
my mind the need for action. Desperation leads to mistakes and
mistakes at our level lead to large numbers of people dying. The
Pakistanis contained this mess. I!m not so sure I can contain my
issues with Siberia.”
"You know what we!re trying to work out with the Canadi-
ans. I know you!re trying to work something similar between
you and the Russians,” Kendrick said. "How is that going?”
"Nowhere. The Russians feel once they let us in, they!ll
never be able to get us out and it will be a virtual, if not actual,
annexation by us of Xiboliya.” Zhou quickly corrected himself.
"Of Siberia.” He paused, waiting now for Kendrick!s reaction.
"Hmm. The Russians have a good point. Once in, is there a
Chinese exit strategy, ever? What to say?” He absentmindedly
swirled the wine in his glass.
"Here!s how I see it, my friend,” Kendrick finally began.
"The world has changed a lot even from the time that the US
and The People!s Republic, in partnership, formed The World
Federation and made Lal its President. It!s not just about energy
anymore. It!s about survival in a world where political borders

256


are making less and less sense. Climate change is creating new
communities of interests that the political borders no longer ac-
commodate. Climate change is creating new borders, or at least
new—I don!t know—aggregates of interests. I think that!s what
is happening between you and Russia and between Canada and
us. What I see is a fresh way for people to organize themselves,
and it!s not a choice. It!s a matter of survival.”
"I!m happy, but a bit surprised to hear this from you,” Zhou
said.
"Don!t get me wrong,” Kendrick said. "I!m not saying the
US is about to annex or absorb Canada. But global warming
does give one pause to consider new realities. So when you talk
about China and Siberia, I hear you.” He waited just long
enough to realize he needed to keep some cards off the table.
For now.
"So why are we talking?” Kendrick asked.
"Confucius said, As the water shapes itself to the vessel
that contains it, so a wise man adapts himself to circumstances.
I must have Siberia. My country must have Siberia. Climate
change is the circumstance. I see only one way for this to hap-
pen without significant loss of life.
"I have been told Russia will bow to the inevitable and ac-
cept a Chinese occupation, annexation—who knows what
words they will use. This I do not believe. I believe Russia will
fight for this, their land. It has been a part of their story for a
long time, and Russia will not easily walk away from a part of
its soul. This is the exceptional strength and the exceptional
weakness of the Russian soul—an infinite capacity to suffer and
yet see it as a virtue.

257


"No, they will fight because their soul demands it. And we
will fight because we have no choice. A great many people will
die and the land itself, in the end, will be rendered useless if it
comes to atomic war. And so, it will all be for nothing.
"I have thought hard and long about this Ricky. The Peo-
ple!s Republic must form a new—how did you call it?—aggre-
gate. We must form a union with Russia so they do not under-
stand us as outside invaders, but instead, part of the family, so
to speak. Russia and The People!s Republic of China must be-
come one.”
President Kendrick put down his wine and sank back into
his chair.
"What are you saying? Leave The World Federation? And
join with Russia as a competitor?”
"Yes, leave The World Federation, but not as a competitor.
This is not a business decision. I hoped you would see that,”
Zhou said. "Climate change is a major disruption to the world
order. The World Federation was, likewise, exactly that—a ma-
jor disruptor. The path to sustainable energy gave birth to The
World Federation. Now, it is global warming that!s creating the
need to adapt once again, as Confucius advises.
"We will make this decision, Ricky. Russia will accept this
new union. We must adapt to the consequences. Whatever they
may be.”
Kendrick stood up to pace the room. Zhou!s message was
too big to absorb sitting down and motionless.
"I can!t say that I haven!t entertained similar thoughts about
the US and Canada, but actually to go ahead with it … well,
yes, I see the logic, but just how much disruption can one gen-

258


eration handle? Did Confucius have anything to say about that?
And what about the lunar mining operations? What about The
World Federation itself? Without The People!s Republic, it will
just shrivel up and die as member nations one by one desert in
search, once again, of their own self-interest. It will be a politi-
cal if not actual bloodbath. Worldwide. Don!t you see that?”
Just at that moment President Kendrick!s communicator
sounded, showing an incoming message. Quickly he looked at
it. He looked at Zhou and then stood up.
"Right now thousands, not hundreds, thousands of boats of
every size are attempting to cross the Mediterranean to get to
Europe. There evidently is no practical military way to stop
them without firing on and destroying them. It!s not clear what
the Europeans will do, but they certainly cannot absorb so many
food refugees. Zhou, this is out of control. Completely out of
control.”
Zhou stood as well.
"This I will say to you,” Zhou said, "Pakistan was a lesson
in what out of control can really look like. This migration
across the Mediterranean is another view of what out of control
looks like. Across the border with Xiboliya is yet one more. I
will not let that border continue out of control. I will do what I
have to do to protect my people. I must leave now, but I will
request a meeting in two weeks with you, me and Lal to discuss
my course of action, which will be decided precisely by then.”
Zhou Xiang shook Richard Kendrick!s hand with a finality
that unnerved Kendrick.
"Okay,” Kendrick said, "I!ll get the ball rolling about the
meeting. I!ll get with Lal right after we!re done here. Zhou,
these are history-changing moments. Be very thoughtful. Get
259


outside that Chinese box. You know, right now I!m thinking of
our own President Lincoln and how much death and destruction
he both endured and created to preserve another union. It was
bloody and costly and in many ways similar to the visions of
hell we are stumbling toward now. But he prevailed against
great odds. We can too—I am convinced of that—if the will is
there.”
Zhou looked at Kendrick silently for several seconds be-
fore replying.
"My friend, I don!t know now what path I will follow, but I
am convinced it must be like nothing yet devised by man be-
cause we have experienced nothing like what we face now—
worldwide dissolution of political borders under the pressure of
a worldwide attack from the forces of nature. It is unprecedent-
ed. For the first time, neither people nor governments are the
problem now. Nature seems to be saying to us, #your time is up.!$
We must learn how to show that it is not true.” Zhou turned and
left.

260


16

By morning, all countries bordering the Northern Mediter-

ranean coast declared themselves off limits. These countries
sent messages in all languages of North Africa that the refugee
flotilla must turn around and return to their points of origin. Po-
lice and military vessels would sail among them, using loud-
speakers to broadcast the same message. If they crossed into the
territorial waters of southern European countries, they would be
warned to stop and turn around with "shots across the bow.” If
they failed to heed the warnings, they would be sunk.
***
Lal sat in his office watching the video feeds from satel-
lites. It was like something out of videos he had seen of the
Normandy invasion during World War II. The land route to Eu-
rope through Turkey had been sealed months ago, as well as the
entire coastline of Cyprus. Only the journey across the Mediter-
ranean remained for the desperate masses. Boats and ships of
every kind filled the field of view on the screen on Lal!s office
wall.
It was an invasion of Europe, but one of unarmed civilians.
Yet they were just as dangerous as if they all carried weapons.
They would just as change the safety, health, culture, and politi-
cal control of the nations they entered in such numbers much as
if they had been an invading and conquering army. If they got
through.
Lal stood and looked out his office window. Everything
everywhere was out of control. Worldwide. Massive population
migrations had already stretched the limits of what accommo-
dating inland locations could absorb. The maps for almost
261


every country suddenly had fluid borders, changing with the
realities of the moment. Coastal cities in stunning numbers and
of inconceivable worth lay abandoned in the face of inundation.
Whole island nations had disappeared under the sea. Trillions of
dollars of capital investments have simply been flushed down
the drain. And hundreds of millions of people have died of
thirst, hunger and disease.
Even to all this, the world had adapted and survived. Gov-
ernments had somehow remained intact. World Federation
leadership, Lal thought, played no small part in the ability of its
member states to carry on. By relocating resources (mostly food
and water), command-and-control centers, transportation hubs,
military and police assets and communication links, people
made do, and the system managed to survive.
Lal, throughout all these horrific times, marveled at the
resilience of humans to disaster. He was a man who cherished
hope. He was also a man who understood the Buddhist concept
of impermanence and non-attachment to outcomes. Even so, he
could not give in to giving up. Yet, it was a constantly trem-
bling tightrope he traversed between holding on and despair.
His communicator vibrated, and when he opened the chan-
nel, he read the report that he was dreading. The coastal coun-
tries of southern Europe had authorized their military to use
deadly force at their discretion to stop and turn back the food
refugee flotillas. Lal picked his head up automatically to watch
the streaming video from space of the Italian boot. He could
clearly see the warning shots erupting in the water around sev-
eral dozen leading vessels that were closest to Italy.
The flotilla seemed to hesitate for a moment, but only for a
moment, and then Lal could see clearly that they resumed their
forward direction. Immediately, boats and ships exploded into
262


flames or simply disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Lal froze the
image and counted at least 20 boats—laden with no space to
spare with people—all destroyed.
Lal turned the screen off. He knew the boats and ships
would turn around now, but to what end? Starve on the southern
Mediterranean coast or die in the waters off the northern
Mediterranean coast? At the moment, despair had the upper
hand.
***
"Zhou, is there nothing I can say to dissuade you?” Lal
asked. "There must be another course of action if only we
thought about it a little more.”
Zhou remained silent, not knowing what else to say that he
hadn!t already said.
"Okay, you!re adamant on leaving the World Federation.”
President Kendrick got up and began walking back and forth.
"Okay, let!s stop arguing that point for a moment. Is there any
way to turn this lemon into lemonade?” President Kendrick re-
alized that sounded flip under the circumstances. "I don!t mean
to make light of the situation, but we need to look at this from a
different angle. I mean, we all know without you the World
Federation is dead. So let!s accept that for now. What!s next?”
The other two Presidents remained silent.
"Come on, gentlemen. We can!t just take our marbles and
go home. We have obligations. Leadership obligations.” Presi-
dent Kendrick stared intently at both men. "Zhou, you can!t just
sit there and say you!re breaking up The World Federation and
taking your marbles to Russia. Think again of the conse-
quences.”
Zhou remained silent.
263


"Come on, Zhou. You have to think about your responsibil-
ities to the World Federation, which, by the way, is most of the
civilized world. You have to give this more thought.”
"No, I really don!t,” Zhou finally said, breaking his silence.
"Whether or not you are willing to see it, the world has reached
its every-man-for-himself stage. There is no longer an opportu-
nity for united action against a vengeful nature at war with us.
In China we know when we have lost our mandate. There no
longer is a People!s Republic of China. There are only climate
zones. Almost all of those zones can support life to some de-
gree. But that degree is crucial. In the south of my country the
climate zones will support only a small population, perhaps a
few million. The rest will die. In the central zone when the Yel-
low and Yangtze Rivers go dry, as they will within five years
after the mountain glaciers that feed them disappear, this zone
will support even fewer people. The rest will die.
"The people of the northern climate zone will complete the
move smoothly into what you call Mongolia and Siberia. The
northern climate zone of China will be barren. All people will
have moved north. Mongolia and Siberia will have a new name
with a new border. It will incorporate Mongolia, Siberia and
parts of Eastern Russia and could named East Asia. It will not
be a political entity so much as a farming district. Making
things, manufacturing things, at least for a considerable time,
will no longer be the primary concern. Food. Food will be what
East Asia makes. It!s what will define it and how its people will
spend their energy.
"Russia and China agree that about three hundred million
Chinese can enter East Asia, after which the border will
be closed and that will be that. Those left behind will die.
264


Some, many perhaps, from old age. The rest, well, they will
simply run out of food and water.
"The People!s Liberation Army will administer the border.”
Zhou paused to allow Lal and Kendrick to process what he was
saying. "This is not a negotiation. This is what will happen.”
"But what does Russia get out of this?” Kendrick asked.
"They get not to be annihilated,” Zhou said in a way that,
with its finality, seemed to close the discussion.
But Kendrick was not through. "What about the fusion en-
ergy program? And the lunar mining?”
"We can discuss that. East Asia will fall outside the Federa-
tion charter so things will have to change. We can continue as
we are, but as a kind of independent contractor. The only thing
that will change regarding Helium-3 mining is the business re-
lationship, not what we do. If that is unacceptable to you, well,
then lunar Helium-3 and all the fusion technology, all of it, is
yours.”
Zhou stopped for a few seconds to let that settle in before
continuing. "We don!t need it. Between the coal in China and
the oil in Russia, East Asia will have all its energy needs satis-
fied into the foreseeable future. And gentlemen, please don!t tell
me about fossil fuels and their effect on global warming. By
now we are—how can I say this so you can understand?—it no
longer matters what we do. We have long since passed the tip-
ping point. It!s time simply to live with the consequences of our
reckless past. Now, it is what it is and nothing can change it.”
With that, Zhou got up and with hand extended shook the hand
of Lal and Kendrick.

265


Zhou turned and walked toward the door. Before leaving
Lal!s office, he turned back to the two men and said, "Even so,
billions will die?”
***
Lijuan asked if she could talk with Sylvia and James. She
had not dressed in the clothes she usually wore when she came
to perform her duties. She had changed into more formal attire,
into clothes she might wear to mark an occasion worthy of
higher note or respect. It was the first thing Sylvia Marshall no-
ticed.
Jonas had gone to sleep. It was the time when Lijuan
would usually leave to return to her parents, with whom she
lived, further outside of Beijing than the Marshall apartment.
Lijuan waited until Sylvia and James had gathered at the dining
room table before she sat as well.
Lijuan sitting in their presence had never happened before.
It looked to James, not so much that she was relaxing her dis-
play of respect for them, but rather that she could not stand and
say what she had to say. They waited until she was ready to
speak.
"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, I must say something very
heavy in my heart. I am so fortunate to work for you. You very
fair and generous and kind to me, and I never forget my good
fortune. I am grateful forever.” She stopped speaking briefly,
working to retain her composure. Sylvia and James remained
silent, but Sylvia felt a growing dread of what might be coming.
"I have much sorrow that I must leave your service. I have
so very much regret.”

266


Lijuan fell silent, having said what she needed to say and
not knowing what else was necessary or expected. She lowered
her head, waiting for the reaction.
James recovered first from the news. "Lijuan, we are so sad
that you must leave us. Can you tell us what makes this deci-
sion necessary?”
"Was it something we did?” asked Sylvia.
Lijuan shook her head, but remained silent,
"Is your family well? Is there anything we can do to help,
if we can?” James said.
Lijuan lowered her head even more and began to cry. She
turned her head away and tried unsuccessfully to wipe away her
tears.
Sylvia got up and walked over to Lijuan. She pulled a
chair next to the young woman and moving close to her, put an
arm around her to comfort her.
"Lijuan, you!ve been like a daughter to us. Tell us what!s
wrong. Maybe we can help you.”
Lijuan brushed her hair from her face and tried once again
to wipe away the tears. She looked at Sylvia and then at James
with a forlorn expression.
"Tell us, Lijuan,” Sylvia urged gently.
The room was silent for a few moments. When Lijuan re-
gained enough composure to speak she timidly pulled herself
from Sylvia!s embrace and sat up straight.
"It is my Uncle Renshou. No, it is more. They, we, must all
leave for the north. Soon everyone must gather what we can
carry and leave our homes and farms, businesses—all that we
have. Everything.”
"But, why?” Sylvia asked, stunned.
267


"It because of water. There no water anymore, you see. The
land become dry and not give harvest. If we stay, we all die.
Our regional governor decreed all must go north. Far north.”
"What do you mean by #north!? How far north are you talk-
ing about?” James asked.
"We go through Mongolia to Xiboliya.”
James Marshall was shocked by this. "But, how? I mean
who is giving permission? How many are going to move?”
"Mr. Marshall, I am just young woman. The government
tell us do this. If we have motor vehicle, we drive until no more
fuel. Then we walk. If no car, we just walk. For permission, I
think you mean in Mongolia and Siberia. I do not know. But I
know all in my province ordered to leave and we go. No choice.
Everyone. We all go to Xiboliya and we told People!s Libera-
tion Army going to protect us. All way through Mongolia and
into Russia the PLA our escort. We told this.” She paused for
just a second. "I believe PLA our permission. Even so, we can-
not stay here because no more water. No choice. North only
place to go.”
"What do you mean #there is no more water?’” James
asked.
Lijuan looked at James quizzically, as if the words said
back to her did not follow from what was said before. "Gone,
no more water. All gone,” she said. "It all gone. There no wheat.
There no corn. No vegetables. Nothing. All dry.” Lijuan looked
at James and Sylvia to see if they understood.
Sylvia looked at James, stunned by this news. "I don!t
know what to say. Lijuan, is there truly no choice? You must
go? Your family must go?”

268


"Dear Mrs. Marshall, there no choice. Not just because
government man say we must, but because truly no choice. If
we stay there no food. There no future here. We will all die if
we no go. Perhaps maybe moving we have hope.”
Lijuan rose from her chair. Immediately, Sylvia and James
stood up as well. Sylvia walked to Lijuan and embraced her.
Tears flowed as she remembered all the family moments they
had shared, how good Lijuan was with Jonas, how capable and
strong. It overwhelmed Sylvia.
"Government man, he say we move now because soon
time to plant.” She looked at James. Her voice was confident,
but her eyes were filled with tears. "If we plant we have food.
Uncle Renshou, he bring seed, tools. We have car and truck. We
be okay.”
James walked to where Sylvia and Lijuan were sitting.
Facing Lijuan, he said, "Of course you must do what is best for
you and your family. We would ask you to stay with us, to live
with us, but we know that you would not wish to separate your-
self from your family.”
Placing his hands on Lijuan!s shoulders, he continued,
"Mrs. Marshall and I thank you with all our hearts for every-
thing you have done for us. You are leaving us like a daughter
going on a long and dangerous voyage and we will pray for
your safe travel and that you will build a good life in your new
home wherever that may be.”
He stepped back and Lijuan lowered her eyes once again.
"I must go now,” she said, moving to the door.
The sound of the door closing behind Lijuan stuck in
Sylvia!s awareness until she finally turned to James, speechless.
James moved to Sylvia and enfolded her tightly in his arms.
269


The door to Jonas!s room quietly closed.

270

PART 3
Karma

271


17

The next morning James and Sylvia stayed home from

work.
James rubbed his head in frustration. "We need a plan to
get back to America before the borders are locked down com-
pletely.”
Sylvia refilled their coffee mugs.
"That may look a little suspicious,” James said, "if we both
just take off for New York or wherever. We need to do this so
that there is no alarm going off when we leave. Then we need to
disappear when we get there. We!ll need to blend almost imme-
diately. And we!ll need money that!s not traceable. We don!t
want to get sucked back in. Once we leave, we!re gone. No go-
ing back.”
"I just want to argue this out,” Sylvia said. "Why don!t we
just give our reasons and resign? I don!t mean to imply I think
your plan is wrong. I just want to challenge your assumptions.
Let!s say we resign and level with Lal and Cranshaw. That hu-
manity is past the tipping point and we have to think about sur-
vival. Even Samuel believes that. We could just say that we
didn!t see any point anymore in pretending that we are not
heading for a catastrophic worldwide collapse of virtually
everything.”
"We could do that, but my instinct tells me that honesty is
not the best policy here. Have you heard about China?”
Sylvia looked startled by the question. "China? What else
about China?” she asked, suddenly alarmed that yet another
disaster was coming.
272


"There!s a rumor going around that The People!s Republic
is planning to exit the World Federation.”
"Holy shit. And I!m worried about the demoralizing effect
on the Federation if we leave with an explanation.” She thought
over the consequences of what James just told her. "How good
is this rumor?” she asked.
"Well, you know. It!s a rumor, but it makes sense consider-
ing what!s going on in Mongolia and what Lijuan told us last
night.”
"Jesus! That puts a whole new light on our timing. When
did you hear about this?”
"Just yesterday. In the strictest confidence, but you know
how well that will work with a story this big if it!s true.”
"If China pulls out,” Sylvia said, not believing her own
words, "the World Federation is done. Economies worldwide
will collapse—banking, transportation, the value of currencies.
It!ll be a fucking nightmare. Worse, we won!t be able to get
anywhere. Everything will shut down because no one will know
how to do business, what exchange rates will be, who!ll buy and
with what and who!ll be selling. The world will shift to a barter
economy. Food and water will be the only thing of value, at
least until the dust settles.”
"We can bet against the Chinese pulling out of the Federa-
tion,” James said, "but I think it!s a sucker!s bet. China will
make some kind of deal with Russia and the US will make
some similar deal with Canada, and the rest of the world can
fend for itself. I think we need to move our timeline to days and
not weeks or months.”

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Sylvia began shaking her head back and forth as if trying
to resist the logic of the situation—as if denying the emotional
reality of #the end of days,!$as they had so often referred to life
after the tipping point.
"We!ve talked about it so often,” she said. "When the shit
really hits the fan. But it was always said kind of like other-
worldly, like a mythical tale. Now it!s happening. Jesus, Jimmy,
the world is in a crash dive. We always talked about the next
generation being in for a crappy ride. We never expected to see
what we!ve already seen, much less #the end of days.’” Sylvia
could not completely stop her head from swaying back and
forth.
"Jimmy, we need to get the hell out of Beijing and back to
the States as soon as we can. Can you create a need to visit
Denver? I can follow a couple of days later and just say we!re
going to see some family we haven!t seen in a long time. That
will work, I think as a cover story. It!ll explain taking Jonas out
of school as well. Family. That will work. We can make it out to
be a three-week vacation.”
"Okay. I can swing something. I!ve been thinking about
money. I changed my mind. I think we should buy everything
on credit, max everything out. Save cash for the last resort. We
can put the apartment up for sale. I can give Chin power of at-
torney to handle everything for us and have the proceeds wired
to our Denver account. I!ll tell Chin we saw an apartment we
love closer to central Beijing and need the money quickly be-
cause it!s a desperate owner who needs a fast cash sale. It!ll
work.”

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Suddenly, James thought of a complication. "What about
the furniture and clothes and everything else?” he asked.
"Just tell Chin to put everything in storage and that we!ll be
back in three weeks.” After taking a breath, Sylvia continued.
"Darling, are we being crazy?”
James just looked at her without answering. Finally, ignor-
ing her question, he said, "Sylvia, arrange for you and Jonas to
meet me in Denver three days after I get there. I think planning
too far in advance is a waste of time, but we!ll probably head to
Canada before that border is closed. We!ll go to the next phase
of #life with the Marshalls!$ when we!re together again in Col-
orado.”
“What about the cars?” Sylvia asked.
James was stumped. He could not think of a quick way to
turn them into cash without arousing suspicion.
"Okay, fuck #em.” Sylvia shrugged her shoulders, accepting
the loss. "We!ll have to just abandon them. Can!t be helped,” she
said. "Jimmy, you leave your car at the airport and I!ll do the
same three days later with mine.”
"Well, that!s it. A good plan, I think. At least the beginning
of a plan,” James said.
"Okay,” Sylvia said. "And I!ll talk with Jonas tonight and
let him know about our #vacation!$plans and that he!ll be miss-
ing about three weeks of school. That he!ll need assignments to
keep up. We need to make everything seem like a totally normal
family vacation with a home sale thrown in.”
James peeled a banana, his appetite suddenly returning
along with the formation of their plan.

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"Jimmy, I think we!re in for a genuine horror show.” Sylvia
reached across the table and took both of James!s hands in hers.
"But when I think of how many people have suffered so much
and how many have already died—I don!t know. I just have to
put in perspective that life as we knew it is over. We!re sur-
vivors. Our new life—wherever it takes us—we!ll be okay. Not
luxurious, but okay. We can handle okay as long as we!re all
together.”
James was not so sure. He had seen firsthand the death and
misery global warming had already produced. He often thought
that those who died were the lucky ones. For the survivors he
saw mostly lives of hardship, want, disease and a longer, pro-
longed death rather than an escape from death. But he was in
awe once again at his wife!s courage and resilience and would
do or say nothing to crush her spirit. Instead he got up, walked
to his wife and stood behind her chair. He reached around and
embraced her with both arms, kissing her hair and whispering
words of endearment.
***
By the end of the next day, James had arranged for his trip
the following week to Denver to meet with the water manage-
ment people there. He would leave Beijing on Tuesday, April
11, 2045. Sylvia would follow three days later with Jonas. They
were all scheduled to return three weeks later. They placed the
family apartment for sale through his attorney, Chin Song. All
was going according to plan.
On Monday, the 10th, Sylvia received a phone call asking
why Jonas was not in school. Sylvia immediately called Jonas!s
cell phone. He did not answer. Then she called the apartment
and again got no answer. She called his Mandarin tutor. He had
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not seen Jonas. She called the school back to inquire if any of
Jonas!s friends were also missing. Sylvia suspected that Jonas
and some friends might have declared a skip day. But, no, all
his friends were in class.
After Sylvia finished her search, having come up empty,
she called James at his office four floors below her at the World
Federation headquarters.
"Jimmy, Jonas isn!t in school today. Do you know anything
about this, where he might be? Did he say anything to you?”
"No, he didn!t tell me anything about skipping school to-
day. You tried all the usual places?”
"Of course. I!m getting concerned. I!m always worried
about kidnapping. I know I shouldn!t jump right away to the
worst-case scenario, but this isn!t like him. He!s pretty respon-
sible for a thirteen-year-old.”
"Should we call the police?” James asked.
"No, not yet. I!m going home first and see if he left a note
or anything that might tell us where he is.”
"Okay.”
It took her fifteen minutes to get to her car and another half
hour to get to her apartment. She entered quickly, calling out
Jonas!s name as she did. There was no response. She checked
every room, but Jonas was not in the apartment. Frustrated and
beginning to fear the worst, she went to the kitchen to call the
police, when she saw the envelope on the kitchen table. She
breathed a big sigh of relief when she saw it and quickly
opened it.
Dear Mom and Dad,

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First, I love you both. I always will. I can’t thank you enough for
all that you have done for me and given me. When you read this, I will
already have left to find Jiao. I know I’m only thirteen years old, but
the thought of never seeing her again was more than I could take. I
heard you guys talking and I know our trip to Colorado is not a va-
cation. It’s permanent. I’m so afraid for Jiao and her family and
want to be with them to help in any way I can. I may be young, but
I’m strong and smart and speak Mandarin very well by now. I know
if I asked you first, you would not let me go find her. And it wouldn’t
be fair to ask you to stay because of her.
I’ll use the credit account you set up for me to pay whatever it
takes to find her and go to her. Perhaps at least for a while you
might track my progress by my purchases. I also took a ¥10,000
cash advance. I’m sorry if you think I am stealing from you, but I
didn’t know what else to do. I plan to start by going to the farm and
then see what I can learn there. I don’t know how you will contact
me from America, but I’ll send word somehow when I can to Aunt
Sonia to let you know how I’m doing.
I hope your plan to go to America works for you. I think things
are getting bad in China pretty quickly from what my classmates are
saying, and leaving now is a good idea. Like, really quickly.
This is something I must do. Good luck on your trip to America.
Anyway, I love you both more than I can say.
Jonas

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Sylvia put the letter down on the table. At first, she had no
reaction to the letter. The meaning was almost impossible for
her to process. She looked around the room as if to verify where
she was, that it was a familiar place, that she was not locked in
some vivid dream, a lifelike nightmare. But it was all too real,
and she burst into uncontrollable sobbing. She hugged Jonas!s
letter to her chest, tears flowing onto her hands and onto the
paper.
After a while, she managed to stifle her tears, and she
thought first to call James again and have him return home im-
mediately. "Lashi,” she said to herself as she entered his cell
phone number. "Lashi!” She repeated the Chinese word for
#shit,!$a word she had learned over the years in Beijing from all
too frequent necessity. She could reveal nothing over the phone,
but he would read her voice well enough not to question and to
do immediately what she instructed. "Come home, now!”
***
"This changes everything, Jimmy. We can!t leave China
without our son.”
"Jesus, why didn!t he just talk with us about this. It!s crazy.
A thirteen-year-old Western child on his own in rural China or
God knows where. If he!s following Jiao, he may not be in Chi-
na long, or whatever used to be China. He!ll be on the trek to
Siberia. What was he thinking?” After a pause, he said, "Well,
he just wasn!t thinking. Shit.”
"Exactly! Thank god Lijuan will be with them. She!ll pro-
tect him and vouch for him if necessary,” Sylvia said hopefully.
"Yes, if he finds them.” Realizing suddenly this path for
the conversation was not productive, he sounded a more con-

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structive note. "Okay, what!s done is done. Obviously we are
not going to America and we!re not flying anywhere. We can do
exactly what Jonas did. We can go to the farm, find out what we
can and then drive to Mongolia to pick up his trail.”
"Right. And we leave today! I!ll make trips to several gro-
ceries and stock up on all the canned foods and drinks that will
fit in the car. You pack some clothes for us.” She looked at
James carefully before asking the next question. "Jimmy, do
you have a weapon?”
"No. Of course not.”
"Should we get one?”
James thought about this. He decided against it.
"It will cause more trouble than it!s worth if we get caught
with it. Even with my World Federation credentials, I never car-
ried a gun. The most I!ve carried was a pocketknife. That won!t
be a problem. And it might come in handy.”
"Okay, let!s meet back here in one hour,” Sylvia said as she
walked to the apartment door. Then she stopped. "Jimmy, give
me your bank cards and credit cards. I!ll draw out the maximum
cash advance I can get from yours and mine.”
When Sylvia had gone, James Marshall sat quietly for a
few moments, trying to get himself grounded in the reality of
the path toward which life unexpectedly and compellingly
thrust them. He had seen so many life-changing crises strike so
many people, he had wondered when it would be their turn.
"Well, here it is,” he said out loud, without realizing it.
He shook his head to clear it for the task at hand. First
things first. He decided that neither their electric luxury vehicle
nor their get around electric compact would serve on the trip

280


they were about to take. He called the largest used car dealer in
Beijing and told them he wanted to trade his car for a strong,
used, almost military grade utility hybrid vehicle. He explained
that they must make the deal today and that he would be over in
one hour. He wanted it serviced and prepared for a long trip.
When he gave his employment credentials and bank for verifi-
cation of funds, the salesperson assured him on the phone that
everything would be to his satisfaction and that his signature
would close the transaction when he arrived. One hour later he
picked up the vehicle.
#Okay, what else?!$ he thought. Gather essentials, but not
too many, he told himself. And he would have to guess at the
essentials for Sylvia. He went through the list of things he
needed to do. In separate calls to work, he informed them he
and Sylvia would not be in the next day. Likewise, he called
Jonas!s school and cancelled all subscriptions and utilities. Then
he called his attorney, Chin Song, to ask him to come by the
apartment. He had an instruction letter for Chin and wanted him
to pick it up personally. When Chin arrived, he explained that
he and Sylvia were going on a brief vacation but wanted to sell
the apartment because they found a larger one they liked more.
He told Chin to use his key to the apartment to let himself in
since very likely they would not be home.
Just as James finished stuffing two carryon bags, Sylvia
returned. Fifteen minutes later, they were out the door and on
their way to Changzhi and the farm that would be Jonas!s first
stop.
***

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It was about an eight-hour drive to Changzhi. The roads
south were clear once outside Beijing. However, the north-
bound traffic was heavy and slow.
"Syl, I!m not sure of this plan. If we get there and don!t
find out anything useful, it will be over sixteen hours of driving
to get us right back to where we started.”
"Pull over. Let!s talk,” Sylvia said.
Once stopped, Sylvia sat quietly thinking. Then she said,
"It!s easier driving south, but perhaps not where we want to go.
We know they are all heading north. The only border crossing
into Mongolia from China in the East is at Erenhot. We could
change plans and go by train and avoid all this traffic, but al-
most certainly it!s not the way Uncle Renshou and his family
will be going. Lijuan said they had vehicles so they will be
heading to Erenhot. Or more likely already passed through it by
now.”
"It!s a good thing we haven!t gone too far south yet. I guess
there!s nothing for it but to turn around and head to Erenhot.
But in this traffic it!ll take two days to get there.”
"The sooner we get started the better,” Sylvia said. "Jonas
probably took a train to Changzhi and then hitched a ride to
Erenhot. He!s made lots of friends from working at the farm
over the summers, and he!s bound to try to follow the vehicle
route rather than take a train. Let!s go to Erenhot and see how
we can pick up his trail there.”
Once out of the Beijing traffic it was faster going. Sylvia
and James took turns driving and sleeping and made it to the
Erenhot border crossing by late the next afternoon. The last
stretch of the drive was over an exhausting and featureless

282


desert plain. The town of Erenhot, however, was surprisingly
modern.
The actual border crossing point on the China side was
about three kilometers from Erenhot. In former times, this
crossing point was organized and efficient. However, now the
line of vehicles waiting for processing extended almost back to
the town. The decree to move north obviously was having its
effect on this crossing.
Sylvia and James looked at each other in dismay as they
pulled into the line. With a resigned sigh Sylvia shrugged and
said, "Well, I guess this decides our next step. When we get to
the Mongolian side, it!ll be too late to do anything, so we!ll
spend the night in Zamyn-Uud.” James slid down in his seat
and got comfortable.
Sylvia had never been this close to a desert before, even in
the United States, and was watching with fascination the sur-
rounding scene at the edge of the Gobi desert, a name already
filled with mystery and romance for her.
After several hours of inching forward, their car finally
passed inspection and then James, as the driver when they ar-
rived, went to complete the paperwork while Sylvia walked
through the administration building to a waiting area for all
passengers. When the paperwork was complete, James drove
the car to the end of the building to pick up Sylvia and then
drove the one-kilometer to the Mongolian border crossing at
Zamyn-Uud.
While at the Zamyn-Uud crossing, James changed his cash
into Mongolian currency. Meanwhile, Sylvia tried to get some
information about vehicles coming from Changzhi.

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No one spoke English, and Sylvia was despairing when the
wife of one driver spoke up in halting English. Her husband
was returning with a load of merchandise purchased in China,
and she overheard Sylvia trying to question one of the customs
inspectors.
Sylvia learned that her name was Muunokhoi. With her
aid, Sylvia learned from the inspector that a large caravan from
Changzhi had passed through six days earlier, followed by a
smaller caravan only two days ago. Sylvia was sure that Jonas,
probably arriving late, would be in the second caravan. Both
caravans were heading to Ulaanbaatar, she was told, to replen-
ish supplies after traveling through the Gobi desert.
Once the paperwork and perfunctory inspections at the
Zamyn-Uud crossing were complete, James and Sylvia were
again ready to be on their way. However, the difference be-
tween travel in China and travel in Mongolian became painfully
obvious. The four lane paved road on the Chinese side quickly
degraded into a nondescript dirt road with uncertain markings
that seemed to vanish into the desert. Mongolia is the size of
Australia with only a few thousand kilometers of paved road.
Only the tire tracks of previous vehicles showed that a road was
being followed.
It was roughly six hundred kilometers to Ulaanbaatar from
Zamyn-Uud. Traveling without a GPS device would be very
risky. James regretted not purchasing one in Beijing before they
left. Sylvia wasn!t so sure. "Actually, Jimmy, I think all we need
is a simple compass and follow the heading to Ulaanbaatar.
There are no actual roads, anyway.”
James reached into his pocket and pulled out a quality hik-
er!s compass. "Just in case,” he said with a grin.

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Looking into the distance, Sylvia realized that traveling at
night would be a harrowing experience and mentioned her con-
cern to James. He agreed but said he thought stopping along the
way might be dangerous because of marauding criminals. Rem-
iniscent of the old west in America, traveling by day and in
groups, was by far the safer way to go.
Muunokhoi, the woman who earlier came to Sylvia!s aid,
advised her to tag along with the caravan she and her husband
had joined. Seeing the wisdom of this recommendation, Sylvia
and James readily accepted her invitation. They agreed to meet
at dawn the next day and to use the rest of this day buying sup-
plies, food, water and extra fuel for the trip across the Gobi
desert to the Mongolian capital city.
"We!ll pick up Jonas!s trail in Ulaanbaatar,” James said
hopefully.
Sylvia kept her reservations to herself. She had no idea
how they would find Jonas once in Ulaanbaatar. He was not
expecting them to be looking for him. He believed they were
headed to America. As a result, he would not be leaving mes-
sages on the message boards in Ulaanbaatar expressly for re-
uniting separated families. Their best bet, she decided, would
be to follow the second Changzhi caravan, if they could, and
hope to find Jonas when they caught up with it.
The last thing they did that evening was to buy another
spare tire.
***
"I was hoping we could do this in three days, tops,” James
said to Sylvia as they drove in the last spot on the caravan. "But
this road really sucks. From a distance it all looks so flat but I

285


never drove a road with more ruts and potholes and whatever
just itching to break an axel.”
Alternatively, for long stretches the route was not merely
flat, but smooth as well, which made for more relaxing driving.
There would be the occasional surprising ravine with steep
walls whose origin in the stark, dry land seemed a mystery to
Sylvia and James. Sometimes they would see the silhouettes of
camels on the peak of a distant ridge.
The glare of the sun reflecting off the land was tiring and
painful, and Sylvia and James frequently switched driving.
Their failure to bring sunglasses with them proved to be a trou-
bling oversight.

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18

The caravan stopped every four hours to let people get out
of their vehicles to stretch their legs and walk around a bit to
restore circulation and to socialize as well. On the first such
stop, Sylvia found the couple who invited them to join the cara-
van, and they introduced them to other nearby travelers. Several
families were Chinese, heeding the directive to move north.
Many others were, like her new friends, merchants taking ad-
vantage of the cheaper prices in China and returning with their
purchases to resell in Ulaanbaatar.
Sylvia learned from Muunokhoi that her name meant #vi-
cious dog!$and was a so-called taboo name. Muunokhoi had an
older sister who died in an accident. So when she was born, her
parents gave her this taboo name to scare away spirits who
might bring evil luck.
After a half hour they would be off again. There was no
stop, even for lunch. People ate on the go. However, after about
twelve hours of driving, the caravan came to a halt for the day.
They made camp, it being too dangerous to drive at night on
such uncertain terrain.
While Sylvia and James had a large stock of canned and
freeze-dried food, their neighbors mostly prepared wonderfully
fragrant stews containing camel meat, carrots, onions and pota-
toes, all suitably seasoned and heated in stone pots. Sylvia was
about to open one of the cans of food they brought with them
when Muunokhoi invited them to join in their dinner.
James and Sylvia looked at each other for an instant, both
worrying about the possibility of food poisoning from eating
unfamiliar foods. Simultaneously, they threw caution to the
287


wind and readily accepted the invitation. Warmed in the chilly
night air by the campfire and the friendly companionship all
went well. After sampling an alcoholic beverage of unknown
pedigree, Sylvia and James even learned a simple Mongolian
campfire song. Sylvia shared with the group a simple Chinese
children!s song that Jonas had taught her.
Upon retiring, James and Sylvia stretched out in their
sleeping bag. It was actually two sleeping bags that they zipped
together to make one big bag suitable for two. As they lay in the
bag, the lights of the camp gradually dimmed and went out and
the night sky, even with the few remaining campfires lit, earlier
already strikingly beautiful with stars, became resplendent with
an unimagined bounty of points and patches of light—whole
fields of glistening stars in the clear, sixteen hundred meter high
Gobi desert blackness of night. Lying silently in their sleeping
bag, they watched the Milky Way rotate in the sky until they
drifted into sleep. They slept soundly and motionless till morn-
ing, when the bustling activity of breaking camp around them
woke them up.
On the third day, one of the vans in the caravan slipped
into a rut and severely bent the drive shaft. On caravan, by shar-
ing resources they could repair many breakdowns. However, if
a suitable repair could not be made, the only remaining choice
was to abandon the vehicle and hope other members of the car-
avan would welcome them. This is a serious obligation felt
strongly by other caravan members, as abandonment of the pas-
sengers as well as of the vehicle would result in almost certain
death.
The breakdown resulted in a two-hour delay with no suc-
cess making a repair. Other passengers quickly took in the un-

288


fortunate owners of the abandoned vehicle. The caravan com-
pleted its journey to Ulaanbaatar by early evening. With the
help of Muunokhoi, Sylvia and James had little difficulty in
tracking the second Changzhi caravan. Mongolian officials
were cooperating with the Chinese migration through their
country and were registering each caravan and the names of the
travelers in each. To James!s astonishment and joy, he discov-
ered Jonas among the names in the traveler manifest along with
Lijuan and her relatives from Changzhi.
They learned that the destination of Jonas!s caravan was
the border crossing into Russia directly north of Ulaanbaatar.
The first stop would be on the Mongolian side at Altanbulag,
followed by the roughly two hundred fifty meter drive to the
Russian side at Kayakhta. It was not possible to discover the
ultimate destination of the Changzhi caravan from Ulaanbaatar.
They would have to get that information at the Russian check-
point at Kayakhta.
The caravan Sylvia and James had joined dissolved quick-
ly in Ulaanbaatar since many of the people in the caravan were
Mongolian and Ulaanbaatar was their final destination.
Muunokhoi and her husband said their goodbyes after making
some suggestions for how to join another caravan of Chinese
that would be heading north.
Sylvia and James had taken turns driving during the long
hours through the Gobi Desert. Whoever had not been driving
spent some time learning the Cyrillic alphabet and rudimentary
"tourist” Russia to prepare for their passage into Russia. Sylvia
and James found that many merchant and commercial signs in
UB included Cyrillic lettering so they could practice reading
Russian in actual situations. Fortunately, many merchants spoke

289


English as well, so shopping for re-supplies, meals and a hotel
room was not a problem.
There was another caravan heading north leaving in two
days, and they joined that group. Jonas had left Ulaanbaatar
three days earlier, so when they left they would be five days
behind.
***
The temperature in Mongolia was already decidedly
warmer than what was typical. Formerly the average tempera-
ture of Ulaanbaatar in April was a chilly 0ºC. By 2045 the av-
erage temperature of Ulaanbaatar in April had risen to 5ºC, no
longer hovering about freezing. By a complicated joining of
climate forces, the average temperature counter-intuitively in-
creased as one moved further north. The Arctic region was now
a full 12ºC warmer in April than at the beginning of the century.
By Spring of 2045, over twenty million Chinese had al-
ready passed into Siberia. The Chinese migration was taking
place in time to take advantage of the warming of Siberia and
planting time. The Chinese farmers could plant spring wheat to
get a base crop down immediately and follow with the more
abundant winter wheat in the fall for harvesting the following
spring. Likewise, they could plant corn in April with planting
continuing through June.
***
After two days travel to the Mongolian border with Siberia
and then a drive to Irkutsk, it was time to reassess.
"What do we do now?” James asked. "It was all pretty easy
up to this point, but where they!re going, there are no actual
towns. Well, there are some towns, but it!s all rural and
isolated.”

290


Still in Irkutsk, but eager to leave, they began driving be-
fore they had a plan.
"Pull over, Jimmy. We need to think this through.”
James pulled the car into a roadside rest area just before
entering on the main road out of town.
"Jimmy, we know the caravan passed through Irkutsk. Go-
ing north from Irkutsk on P-255,” Sylvia was marking a path
with her finger on a map they bought in Irkutsk. "They go a
long way and then they could have taken R-419 north where it
intersects with P-255 and that goes northeast to Bratsk. I think
Bratsk is the best bet. I don!t think the Chinese want to go too
far west. That direction is more built up and populated by Rus-
sians. North and east are emptier and less likely to cause con-
flict.” She sat up straight in the car. "I say we head to Bratsk
and try to pick up their trail again there.”
James was still bent over the map. "I like it. I think that
makes good sense, Syl. I!m sure in Bratsk they would have no-
ticed a convoy of Chinese farmers passing through. We!re
bound to get some intel there. From Bratsk they could go either
further east through these towns,” he said, pointing to the route
on the map, "or straight north from Bratsk and toward the An-
gara River. There!s probably good farming country further north
and they would be away from Bratsk, which would be too
Russian.” He closed the map.
"How long do you figure it!ll take to get to Bratsk?” Sylvia
asked.
"I have no idea. R-419 seems at best a secondary road.
Maybe worse. It!ll probably be slow going.”

291


"Shit,” Sylvia said. “We!re doing this alone. If we get into
trouble, we!re in big trouble. The Mongolian travelers were in-
credibly hospitable. So far, I!m not so sure about the Russians.
Where we!d get help in Mongolia if we broke down here I think
more likely we!d get robbed … or worse. It!s obvious we!re
Westerners. I think a lot of these people would just as soon kill
us as help us.”
James looked at Sylvia closely before speaking. "What
choice have we got? Let!s go.”
It was a long ride to the intersection of P-255 and R-419.
P-255 had been a poorly repaired and maintained but paved
road with one lane in each direction. However, R-419 was not
much more than a rutted and pitted dirt road stretching off to
the horizon. Sylvia and James looked at each other after turning
onto R-419. The road was strangely empty. As they proceeded,
there was the occasional vehicle coming in the opposite direc-
tion, covered with caked on mud almost to the midpoint. Some-
times a vehicle would drive by them with the mud caked all the
way up one side.
"What do you think?” Sylvia asked without taking her eyes
off the road while she was driving. "From a rollover?”
James just shrugged, but his expression became grim. Af-
ter about two hours of driving, they saw a stalled lineup of ve-
hicles ahead. It seemed to stretch for several kilometers at least.
Here and there a vehicle would pull out of the line and turn
around. Sylvia pulled up to the end of the lineup and stopped.
After a few moments, with no advancement of the line at all,
she stopped the engine.
"What do you think it is?” she asked.

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Sylvia shrugged. "It looks like this might take hours. Let
me go see what I can find out. I think my Russian is good
enough for that.” He stepped out onto a surprisingly wet, mud-
dy ground. He hadn!t paid attention to the gradual buildup of
water on the road.
Sylvia watched as James moved down the line. About
twenty vehicles down the line, he stopped, and she saw him
speaking with the driver. After what seemed to her a very long
time, James returned. He opened the door and sat facing outside
while he cleaned his shoes with a stick he had picked up. The
mud was very adherent, and it took him a while, in silence, to
clean them. Sylvia waited impatiently.
"It!s not good,” he finally said. "One driver spoke a little
English. Apparently there was an early thaw of the snow in the
mountains and the road up ahead has turned into a river of mud.
He says sometimes it!s worth waiting and they let you try to get
through. Many get stuck and then they have to pay to get hauled
out. Depending on where they pull you out, you either go on
and you take your chances again or turn back. He says if they
let him go on, he can probably still make it. But he!s a truck and
not a car. I showed him what we were driving, and he shook his
head. All he would say was #maybe,!$but it sounded more to me
like #no fucking way.’”
"How bad is it, really? Do you think we can make it?”
"It!s bad. The mud is like a soft plastic and can easily be a
meter to two meters deep. Sometimes there!s flowing water
over the whole mess. Sometimes it!s just the mud. Right now,
he says, it!s mud and water. That!s a little better than just the
mud. You get a little bit of buoyancy. They!re trying to decide

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whether just to close the road and be done with it for the spring,
at least. It will close off entire sections of Siberia until late
summer or fall.”
"Jimmy! Until fall?” Sylvia said with alarm. "If we wait
until fall, we may never pick up Jonas!s trail again. We must go
on.”
James rested his chin in his hands for a few moments,
thinking.
"Syl, let!s keep going until we get to the decision point.
Where the road has really turned to scary shit and decide there
what we want to do.”
"What do you mean? There!s nothing to decide. We go on.
Period. One way or the other, we find a way to go on.”
James took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay,” he
said with a sudden smile. "That!s what I meant! We go on!”
***
Five hours in their car with no movement at all. Finally,
the line of vehicles crawled forward at perhaps one to two
kilometers per hour. Steadily the road became more and more
difficult. The wall of earth on either side became steeper and
steeper, and beyond the edge of the road only an impenetrable
forest. For long periods of time there was no forward move-
ment. More often than not, the only movement occurred when
from time to time another vehicle would give up and turn
around.
At last the road widened. Cars were sinking into the mud
almost halfway up their doors. On the right side, half on and
half off the road, was an overturned tractor-trailer truck. A bull-
dozer, buried in the mud almost to the top of the engine com-

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partment, was dragging a tethered line of five cars through an
otherwise impassable section of the road.
James whistled in astonishment as he watched the bulldoz-
er, metal treads slowly churning through the plastic mud, slow-
ly, against all common sense, making progress forward toward
a higher and dryer part of the road. James looked at Sylvia.
"I!m going to find out what the charge is. There!s no way
we will get past this on our own.”
Sylvia was too exhausted emotionally to respond and
turned her head and shut her eyes. In a few minutes, James re-
turned.
"According to the truck driver I spoke with before it!s ex-
pensive and the road is one long river of mud all the way to
Bratsk, with at least a dozen more deep spots like this. We!ll
need to be towed through all of them.”
Sylvia put her head down and rested her hands on the
dashboard. She was silent except for the steady clicking of her
fingernails on the hard plastic surface. Thinking. Thinking.
"What do we do, Jimmy? I just don!t know.”
"Darling, Bratsk was a gamble to begin with. We!re not
sure the caravan was even headed there or by this route or if
they got through. Also, there was no way for me to get to the
bulldozer drivers to ask them what a tow costs or any way of
knowing if they even understand English.”
"We!re not turning back,” Sylvia said. "Bratsk is still our
best bet. We!re not going backwards, James. Bratsk is our key
to finding Jonas. I!m sure of it.”
They sat silently for a long time. Finally, Sylvia asked,
"How friendly are the men in that truck—the guy!s you!ve been
speaking with?”
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"They seem nice enough. A little rough, but I suppose
that!s to be expected for Siberian truckers. Why?”
"I think we have only one choice. We abandon our car and
go with them, if they!ll let us.”
For a fee, the truckers readily agreed to take on two more
passengers. They helped James and Sylvia move their car far
onto the shoulder of the road so as not to impede traffic flow,
such as it was. James even threw in the keys to their car, saying
if the men could salvage it later, it would be theirs.
It took two more days of arduous and slow going before
they finally arrived at the outskirts of Bratsk.
Bratsk itself was, for practical purposes, under water. The
unusually strong melt of mountain snow had swollen the An-
gara River well beyond its banks, inundating about half the city
proper. Their trucker friends, by asking around, found out that
there were no vehicles from Changzhi in Bratsk currently, but a
caravan of perhaps twenty trucks had passed through only two
days earlier. They were believed to have gone further north to
Vikhorevka where there was drier land and where the caravan,
they were told, was still encamped.
The truckers also said there was some building resistance
to the steady influx of Chinese. A few fights, some damaged
property. Small stuff, but enough to encourage a fast transit
through Bratsk. Chinese caravans stayed only long enough to
replenish whatever supplies were still available for purchase.
"Well, the credit cards are still working in the outlying
shops and we made it this far. Goddamn lucky if you ask me,
Sylvie. Also, I found some Italians who speak English and we!ll
be meeting with them this evening. I think we may be here for a
few days until we can hitch a ride to Vikhorevka. They offered
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to put us up until then. They also were working in Beijing and
came to the same conclusion we did to get the hell out and
move north.”
"Only we were hoping for Canada,” Sylvia said with a
sigh.
"They kind of questioned why we were escaping to Siberia
instead of the US or Canada. I explained about Jonas.”
"I know it!s a long shot,” Sylvia said, "but did they see any-
thing of Jonas? A mixed race boy might have stood out.”
"I asked them and they said they didn!t see any children at
all, probably because the parents all thought it safer to keep the
kids close. But they said they would ask around. Their Russian
is evidently quite good.”
"Let!s see. Italian, Russian, English, probably Chinese.
How do people do this?” Sylvia asked with a roll of her eyes.
"Oh, God, Jimmy,” she said with a sudden shiver. "Are we
on the right track? Will we find our little boy after all this?”
***
It was early evening when the truck driver let James and
Sylvia off just outside the encampment of the Changzhi caravan
they were chasing. A People!s Liberation Army officer at the
checkpoint controlling entry to the encampment stopped them
as they tried to enter. It took several minutes before the officer
could locate someone who spoke English.
PLA soldiers brought chairs for James, Sylvia, the PLA
officer and for the translator. The translator was the son of a
farmer from the same general area where Jiao!s family farm
was located. He was about twenty years old and his name was
Woh Yan. He had spent a year living with an aunt in Beijing
and learned some English at the school he attended while there.
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The officer arranged for a table and for tea to be brought.
While introductions were being made, the young translator did
a lot of exaggerated smiling and nodding. Sylvia was afraid his
translating would not go well. Nevertheless, she began bravely.
"Dear Mr. Woh,” she said, "thank you for helping us. We
have come a long distance to find our son. We think he is with
this caravan. He is thirteen years old. He has worked for several
summers at the farm of Wu Renshou. Do you know Uncle Ren-
shou?”
Woh!s face lit up immediately with a broad smile.
"You look for Cousin Jonas?” he asked.
Sylvia and James were stunned.
"Everyone here know Cousin Jonas. He big friend of
everybody.”
Sylvia was too surprised to react. James took her hand and
turning to Woh asked, "You know, Mr. Woh, we are his parents.
We came to find him. Is he here now? Is he well? Can we see
him?”
Woh immediately turned to the PLA officer and explained
the situation. The officer quickly rose and gave orders to a sol-
dier standing nearby who then moved off into the compound.
"Yes, Mister Marshall, sir, he here. We all know Cousin
Jonas. He good boy. Know Mandarin very good. He work very
hard. Every summertime. Very good boy.” And then the transla-
tor evidently decided he had nothing to add and simply sat back
in his chair, smiled and sipped his tea.
James leaned forward and shook young Woh!s hand vigor-
ously and did the same with the PLA officer, who stiffened at
first and then relaxed, allowing for the exchange of warm feel-
ings.
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After a few moments the dispatched soldier returned and
spoke with the officer who then spoke with Woh Yan.
"Hmm,” Woh said, searching for the words. "Cousin Jonas
and Uncle Renshou come soon. Need time to prepare to meet
honorable parents. Uncle Renshou will bring Cousin Jonas
soon. Maybe many others come too. You most welcome.
Everyone very happy you here.”
The officer spoke to several of his men, and lanterns began
appearing. And more chairs appeared as if from nowhere.
James, Sylvia and Woh Yan waited for what would happen
next.
Sylvia leaned toward James and whispered, "My god,
Jimmy. I can!t believe this is happening. We found our baby.
Our Jonas is safe. And we found him!”
"I had no idea Jonas had become such a celebrity,” James
whispered with a broad grin.
Sylvia smiled, but said nothing. She continued eagerly to
scan the darkness outside the area lit by the many lanterns. Fi-
nally, there was a rustling sound coming from behind Woh Yan.
The sound steadily built until it was obvious a crowd of people
was coming. At last, Uncle Renshou emerged from the darkness
holding Jonas by the hand and at the head of a group of about
twenty people. Sylvia also recognized Lijuan among the wel-
come party.
Her instinct was to stand up and run to her son, but she re-
strained herself, realizing that as with so many things Chinese,
there was going to be a ritual to this reuniting. She waited to
allow Renshou the honor of welcoming them and presenting
Jonas to them respectfully.

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Renshou came with Jonas and stood before Sylvia and
James, who had both risen as he approached. Sylvia was find-
ing it difficult to maintain eye contact with Renshou when all
she wanted to do was crush Jonas in her arms.
Renshou bowed deeply towards Sylvia and James and be-
gan speaking as they waited impatiently. He then gestured to
Jonas, who likewise bowed to his parents and then to Uncle
Renshou. When that was completed, Renshou indicated Jonas
was free to run to his parents and receive their embraces.
Sylvia crushed her son to her breast as she burst into tears
of joy while James encircled both his wife and his son with his
outstretched arms.
The crowd immediately began clapping and singing a live-
ly song to commemorate the reunion of child with parents.
After the hugs and tears, Sylvia turned to Woh Yan to ask
him to express her gratitude to everyone for taking good care of
Jonas and for being so kind and generous. Woh, however, melt-
ed back into the crowd. As he did so he gestured towards Jonas
in a way that clearly showed that Jonas now #had the floor.!
Jonas, standing by his parents, smiled and turned to face
the crowd. He spoke in easy and confident Mandarin, repeating
the gratitude his mother had just shared. When he finished, he
bowed deeply to Uncle Renshou and turned, bowing to the
crowd as well. Everyone clapped. Jonas then took his parents
by the hand and walked with them into the throng of well-wish-
ers where they were met with handshakes and joyful pats on the
back and many smiles.
"This is amazing,” Sylvia whispered to Jonas.

300


Jonas whispered back, squeezing his mother!s hand tightly,
"I thought you and dad were going to America. I!m so excited.
You!re amazing! I can!t believe you found me.”
***
The shots rang out just before dawn.
Jiao ran to the tent where the Marshalls were all sleeping.
She knocked frantically on one of the tent poles until Jonas
poked his head out of the tent flaps. He was partially dressed
with his shirt still unbuttoned and was hopping on one foot as
he tried to put on his second shoe.
"What!s happening?” he asked Jiao.
"Quick, hurry, all families must go to center of compound.
Soldiers will protect us.”
"But, Jiao, who from?”
"My father says from local Russian farmers. They not want
us here. The PLA officer, he tell us what to do.”
The firing had stopped and James stuck his head outside
the tent flaps. "Jonas, what!s happening?”
"I!m not sure, but you better get mom up and out because
everyone is going to the center of the encampment until the sol-
diers tell us what to do.”
Sylvia emerged from the tent, and they quickly made their
way to the gathering location. The people stood silently waiting
for the PLA officer to arrive. The Marshall family huddled qui-
etly together with Lijuan, her family, and Jiao and her parents.
Jonas stood by Jiao, holding her hand protectively.
When the PLA officer finally arrived, Jonas moved closer
to his parents so he could translate for them. Jiao went to her
mother, Huifang, and took her hand. Everyone had their eyes on
the officer and patiently waited for him to speak. There were
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perhaps a hundred people, not counting the soldiers who were
deployed protectively.
As the officer spoke, Jonas translated.
"First, he says we are in no immediate danger. The firing of
weapons was to get our attention, more or less. I think he said it
was just in the air. They injured no one. Our soldiers have been
arranged to create a safe border for the encampment. He says
they have enough men and weapons to protect us. He says the
Russians understand that many Chinese are coming into
Siberia, that it!s just a fact. They don!t want to fight with trained
soldiers, but they want us to remove, um … to move on. Our
officer, by the way, Dad, his name is Lieutenant Li. So Lieu-
tenant Li explained to the Russian leader that we are just pass-
ing through, on our way to open land northeast of here.
"Lieutenant Li said to the Russians that we planned to
spend another three days here while some of his men, um,…
search to find the best trail, no, road. He said to the Russian
leader if he could help point the way they could leave sooner.
The roads north and east of here are very poor, Lieutenant Li
says. Many roads do not even show on the maps. He will try to
talk, no, um,…bargain to see if they will provide a guide who
knows the region we are going to who can help us. He says we
will pay or promise some of our future harvest for their help.
He is going back to continue talking with the Russians. We
should just wait here.”
With that, Lieutenant Li left the inner circle.
"Jonas, you!re amazing. That was brilliant. How did you
get so fluent?” James asked.
"Dad, you know I!ve been going to a Chinese language
school for six years. I guess there just wasn!t a reason to show
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you guys how much I learned until now. And Jiao has been
wonderful. Every summer she would correct my Mandarin. No
mistakes allowed. She was even tougher than my teachers.”
Jonas turned to his mother. "I admire her so much. I love
her, Mom. She!s like my sister. I just couldn!t leave her when
they were ordered to move north. It was the toughest decision
to go with her. I couldn!t imagine never seeing her again. Jiao
wanted to tell her dad right away, but I begged her not to. If
they sent me back, I said I would just find another way to her.
Until we were well on our way, Jiao hid me for the first three
days and secretly brought me food and water.”
"But Jonas, didn!t you think about how it would devastate
us? It would be like you had died, God forbid. Never to see you
again! How could you think we would let that happen? Did you
think we would just go to America without you?” It disappoint-
ed Sylvia that his plan did not seem to include their feelings.
Jonas hung his head, not having an answer to Sylvia!s
question.
"Well?” Sylvia demanded again.
James put his arm around Sylvia. "Come on, Sylvie.
What!s done, is done. He!s a thirteen-year-old boy and he did
what he thought was right. But now, guess what? We!re all to-
gether, safe and sound. We!ve just run out of plan. That!s all.”

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19

Earlier in the day Latimer had taken the cable car ride to
the "top of the Rock.” From there he could see across to Spain
to the northeast and, since the air was crisp and clear, even to
the north coast of Africa. But now, as evening was approaching,
the sun was just setting, wrapped in a brilliant swath of flaming
colors across the western sky. Latimer walked into the street
after an excellent early seafood dinner.
It would only be a short walk from the town center to
Gibraltar harbor. Latimer wanted to catch the sunset once more
on his last day on Gibraltar. Latimer decided the view from the
harbor would provide a good vantage point, and as he had just
finished dinner, he savored the added benefit of settling his
food with a bit of exercise.
This would be his last trip to Gibraltar. Extensive sections
of the harbor and even the downtown area were under water, as
were many of the western roads. The eastern roads being higher
were still usable, but served only the few remaining tourists and
occasional businessman, like himself, finishing up business.
Discretionary travel had largely disappeared, falling into the
same sinkhole as the value of currency.
Virtually all of his father!s company assets and the assets
of The Network had already been converted to real estate or
cash. Edgar Latimer had used the resources of Latimer Enter-
prises to purchase whatever land suitable for sustainable agri-
culture was still available for sale. Decades earlier the major
countries went on a similar land-buying spree so Edgar found
only remote locations still available.

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Paul Latimer!s trip to Gibraltar was to complete the final
family land purchase, this time in Brazil. The land was owned
by one of the few financial service businesses still on Gibraltar.
With the conclusion of this land purchase, Latimer Enterprises
and The Network converted whatever remaining assets to cash
for current and future day-to-day operations.
In the morning Paul Latimer would fly out of Gibraltar to
begin his trek back to Mount Aratron, where he planned to meet
with his father. There they planned to discuss their options for
how they would live out the rest of their lives. They were in
agreement that Earth was already entering the worst-case sce-
nario, catastrophic environmental collapse. Global warming had
already raised sea level by almost eight meters. Thirst and
drought were killing off populations worldwide by the hundreds
of millions. It would not be long, perhaps five years or less, that
the number would exceed a billion. Only a fool could be blind
to the fact that the greatest civilization in the history of humani-
ty would be just a memory in lonely pockets of survival in the
last half of the twenty-first century.
The view from his hotel balcony was a painful reminder of
how the Gibraltar town center was once a vibrant tourist attrac-
tion, alive with street noise and music and sparkling with fes-
tive year-round lights. Now it was quiet and dark except for the
one or two bars still able to operate, preserved by owners with
nowhere else to frequent by patrons like Paul, completing their
last Gibraltar transactions.
Paul had dedicated himself to bring about the collapse of
The World Federation. He had devoted his life to two things
since escaping from the United States: to survive and to destroy.
Now he realized that all he needed to have done was wait.

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The hydrogen energy economy was too little too late, the
pace of conversion too slow, the continued burning of fossil fu-
els too widespread, the accumulated concentration of green-
house gases too abundant and long lived. The accelerating melt-
ing of the northern permafrost with its consequent toxic release
of massive amounts of methane into the atmosphere would be
the conclusive proof of the blindingly obvious. Earth had gone
long past the tipping point and was about to enter a new geolog-
ic age.
Paul moved back into his flat and poured himself a large
glass of scotch. He got his wish with The World Federation.
That there was still an office building in Beijing that housed
The World Federation, that there were still employees drawing
paychecks with The World Federation logo on it, that freight
rockets were still going to and from the moon with their pre-
cious cargo of Helium-3, crucial to the laser-fusion process—all
these just meant the Federation was among the other walking
dead.
The world governments could never grasp the dire nature
of the calamity that was fermenting during all the years of
#business as usual.!$ The world could never agree on an emis-
sions mid-course correction on a large enough scale to halt the
slow slide to disaster. While in two world wars, nations could
mobilize resources on a massive scale to kill each other, they
never could mobilize on a scale even remotely similar for self-
preservation.
The withdrawal of China from The World Federation fin-
ished it because it no longer had its critical mass of nations.
And its purpose. Energy was no longer the pressing issue it had
been. Food and water were now the new limiting factors for

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survival, and they trumped everything else. National borders
were crumbling everywhere. Central governments were becom-
ing irrelevant. World financial systems were collapsing.
The world had averted nuclear war between India and Pa-
kistan, but conventional wars were breaking out in Africa and
South America. Israel had once again bombed the water diver-
sion projects originating in Syria. Communities everywhere
were drawing in, consolidating, restricting entry—closing off.
The largest nations—the US, Canada, Russia, China, India,
the European Union—were better able to adapt to the blows of
increasingly rapid changes. They once had the discipline, the
military control and the commitment to their respective political
traditions and structures to preserve some measure of stability.
They could have strained every resource and acted boldly. But
they didn!t.
Now it was too late. The swirling currents circling the
abyss of catastrophic environmental collapse were drawing
everything in with them. Paul Latimer knew when the game
was up. He and his father were already deep into their plan for a
new mission. Survival.
In fourteen hours he would be at Mount Aratron.
***
His father!s boat was already in the cave on the leeward
side of the island as Paul!s seaplane glided to a stop beside it. In
a short time he was up on the mountain, at the plateau where his
cabin lay hidden. Edgar greeted him warmly at the well-camou-
flaged, beach-level entrance to the elevator shaft. In just a few
moments, they completed the ride up to the plateau.
To maintain concealment from the air, the cabin was not
built in a clearing in the forest. Instead, a spacious cavern had

307


been hollowed out beneath the plateau surface with a living
area of some two hundred square meters. There was a living
room, spacious dining room/kitchen area, two bedrooms, each
with a private bath, an office and a communications room. Fi-
nally, there was a utility room where the ventilation and climate
control equipment were located.
Above ground was an all weather power shed where the
fuel cells, battery storage system, controls, regulators and con-
verters were located. The shed was small enough that it fit with-
in the forest unseen from the sky. A flowing spring at the inland
side of the plateau, just before the ground rose again up the
mountain, provided water to the cabin. The ground rose enough
from the front of the plateau to the rear so that the elevation
change provided enough pressure head that the water supply
needed no water pump. It was a small spring, but gave more
than enough water and was dependable, having never failed La-
timer when he visited.
Mount Aratron provided an almost completely self-suffi-
cient retreat. The only element missing was food. It would not
be an arduous task to provide for this as well on the island.
However, Latimer and his father decided against stocking the
island with small mammals, fowl and other game. They did not
envision Mount Aratron as anything more than a retreat and not
a final destination, and so they always brought their food with
them.
Edgar Latimer at seventy-seven years old was a man of
unusual vigor. He was as tall as Paul, even an inch more than
Paul!s six foot two inch height. He had a full head of silver hair
that promoted a first impression of vital good looks. His face
had an almost gaunt appearance, saved from looking grim by a

308


ready smile. He was a man who Paul knew always to be in
good humor, even when angry or stressed. It was a quality Paul
admired, but found himself unable to model.
Edgar Latimer!s body was lean and muscular, but with a
surprising and distinct roundness to his shoulders as if from
years spent bent over, examining documents, books or blue-
prints. He wore jeans and a red and black checkered flannel
shirt and rubber-soled shoes with no socks.
Paul was not ready to enter the cabin and suggested the
two walk a bit in the forest. They moved silently for several
minutes, enveloped in the leaf-filtered light that penetrated the
canopy. Paul bent and picked up a branch, still green and evi-
dently stripped from a tree by wind rather than age. Coming
upon a suitable boulder, Paul sat down. He reached into his
pocket and took out a folding knife, a Case trapper his father
had given him when just a boy. He began absently whittling the
branch while his father stood watching patiently, hands in his
pockets.
"Dad,” Paul began still focused on his whittling, "I never
expected you to live to see all this.” Both men laughed at how
that sounded. "I mean, it happened more quickly than I ever ex-
pected.”
"Armageddon?”
"Exactly. You know, my target was The World Federation.
But I always assumed there would be another world organiza-
tion to replace it. I figured, correctly I think, that it would be
China and Russia that would lead the way. But I never figured
nothing, virtually nothing would remain, no out-of-the-box ex-
periment in world order. I never envisioned that fate would
overtake everyone!s plans. Or that so many people would fail to
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see or deny to themselves how swiftly the collapse would come,
in their lifetimes, that is.”
Edgar Latimer smiled at his son and looked around at the
forest cathedral they were in. There was perhaps another hour
before darkness and the light now was the best of the day with
its sharp shadows and growing glow of gold over all it touched.
"I think everyone simply believed they could argue forever
and that nature would wait. Actually, there was a decent effort
finally starting in the late twenties, but I don!t think people, the
policy people, ever fully grasped that the time delay between
the damage we were doing and when it would show itself
would suddenly become so short.” Edgar stopped and watched
his son cutting away at the stick. "It!s the magic of tipping
points, Paul.”
"You know,” Paul said, "surprisingly, I don!t feel angry
about what!s happening to Earth. I keep telling myself Earth
doesn!t care. It just reacts to circumstances, obeying the laws of
the universe.” He stopped for a moment, but then, animated by
another thought, said, "The deserts were the final nail in the cof-
fin, I think. For almost a century people have been fighting to
keep the deserts of the world at bay. When people abandoned
the coastal cities, that was bad enough, but the deserts, who!d
have thought, they!re like a cancer growing from the inside.
When the desert control efforts finally collapsed in !39 you
would have thought it would be clear to everyone that the game
was up and nothing we could do would make a difference any-
more.”
Paul turned the stick and began cutting notches along its
length.

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"You!d think. I guess it wasn!t clear enough,” Edgar said.
Paul Latimer stood up and watched the surrounding forest
as if waiting for a sign. Or a last goodbye. As he stood next to
his father, he felt as if he was wiping away his entire previous
life. A new phase was about to begin. Clean slate. He could live
with that. He!d done it before.
Standing in the shadow of the trees above him, Paul La-
timer was feeling the magnitude of the world events swirling
outside his secluded redoubt. He was mindful of the millions
who had died already and the billions more destined for an un-
timely death. He thought about how he struggled to avenge
himself against The World Federation and how unpredictable
was the storyline destiny writes without help or direction. With
all his struggling and scheming, all he had to do was wait.
He couldn!t recollect who said that every organism or insti-
tution has within it the seeds of its own destruction. How true,
he thought. The most successful system in the history of hu-
manity is…no, was capitalism, and the consumer society. More
and more, bigger and bigger—forever. With no consequences.
Well, evidently not, he thought.
No one could make the people in power, the actual power
people, believe the scientists … or care. Latimer remembered a
tale he heard many years ago about an Indian rajah who became
deathly ill. The court physician was unsuccessful in treating
him, so the call went out to all the land for doctors who might
treat the king successfully. One by one they came and the ra-
jah!s counselors questioned each in turn, on their belief in
emptiness, karma, reincarnation and the immortality of the soul.
One by one, giving unsatisfying answers to these timeless ques-
tions, they were rejected. And thus the king died.

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King capitalism is dead. Long live the king.
"Well, Dad, John Galt is waiting for us.”
His father smiled at the allusion to the mysterious charac-
ter in Ayn Rand!s book Atlas Shrugged who, like them, created
a haven for the makers and shakers of the world.
"How is our colony doing? How did the trip to Gibraltar
go?” Edgar asked.
"I had to clear some titles and some other loose ends.
While I was there, I also wanted to arrange for additional ship-
ments of materials to Brazil. There aren!t too many carriers
these days, but I got done what I wanted to. Nothing to concern
yourself about. They!ve already begun clearing the forest with
enough space to accommodate about two thousand people.
There!s plenty of water, both above ground and in a large, un-
touched aquifer. The Network engineers completed all the de-
signs for the electrical, sanitation and water systems, and for the
hydroponic farming project. We!ll be bringing in some farming
experts, agricultural academics, to explore ground-based farm-
ing. Rainforest land in Brazil is notoriously infertile, but we
think we can change that over time. We!ll have storage facilities
for agricultural chemicals, starter plants and a wide variety of
seeds to last us at least five years, enough time for the colony to
become self-sufficient. We already planted sizeable orchards of
nut and fruit trees. Our engineers have completed a design for a
very extensive hydroponics facility. Prefabricated sections for
the housing and hospital construction are being flown in and
assembled as we speak. Provision is being made for a school
and a library, a file storage depository, really.”
"When do you think it will be ready for occupancy?” Edgar
asked.
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"Ready but not complete—probably in less than two
months. We!ll stay here until we get the word that everything is
complete. It!ll just be easier to deal from the outside with unex-
pected issues. Then we!ll close shop here and disappear off the
grid, forever.”
"Who would have thought,” Edgar said, "that The Network
would be the launch pad for our survival colony.” Edgar La-
timer took a cigar from his shirt pocket and took his time light-
ing it. After a few puffs to make sure it was well lit, he asked,
"How are the colonists being chosen?”
"I!m still working on that. Ayn Rand was quite the good old
girl. She practically gave a blueprint for our little life raft. And
it!s strictly invitation only. We need to consider loyalty to The
Network and the need for women, young people, a mix of skills
and genes and security—a sustainable population. We!re look-
ing to maintain a balance of deaths and births so the population
stays at about two thousand.”
Edgar Latimer became quiet. So much to think about. Then
with a shake of his head he seemed to renew himself for further
discussion.
"Paul, I!ve had some of my senior IT guys developing a
database for all the information and data we might need to
maintain a self-sustaining agrarian society. They!re also compil-
ing an analysis of every known utopian and communal experi-
ment to see what worked and what didn!t and why. As for the
economic system and governance of the colony, I!d like to have
some suggestions to propose to the community. That will be
ready in about a week. Every colonist who!s chosen and agrees

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to come will receive a copy of the analysis for them to read and
consider.”
Edgar looked at his son contentedly puffing on the cigar
Paul had given him and the then asked, "How will I get the
documents to the colonists? We have to be careful until they are
actually there. Who will distribute them?”
"Don!t worry about that, Dad. Just let me know when
they!re ready and I!ll take care of it. Can you get me hard copies
of the data dump as well?”
"Whew. That will be a lot of pages. It might fill a room.”
"I think it!s best to have hard copy as well. Just in case our
electricity resources don!t work out as planned or computer
parts become unavailable. Whatever. Anything can happen.
Dad, we need hard copy as well.”
"Impossible. We can make multiple digital copies of the
data files, but to print it all out, Paul, no way.” Edgar said.
Paul became thoughtful, but did not continue pressing his
father on this issue.
"Paul, let!s head back to the cabin. Now that we know we!ll
be going to Brazil, we need to think about what to do with the
other properties we own. We!ll have to barter them to other
colony seekers. We need to decide how to approach this. I think
The Network will be the best avenue for reaching out to divest
ourselves of excess real estate. What do you think?”
"Let!s go to the cabin and look at the other properties and I
can get people working on prospects. We need to think about
keeping at least one, perhaps two properties as fallbacks in case
the climate changes in ways we can!t accommodate where we!ll
be in Brazil.”

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Brazil at first had been an unlikely choice. Scientific pro-
jections predicted the rising global heat to hit the rain forest
hard with a dramatic loss of species through extinction. How-
ever, Edgar and Paul decided that the plants and animals that
would not affect life in their survival colony. The trees would
survive, and that!s all they needed. It was the canopy of the
trees left within the community and the surrounding forest that
would protect them from the likely regional temperature in-
crease. That it might not was a minor risk, but isolation was a
higher priority and the Brazilian location best satisfied this
need.
"Brazil!s big cities are doomed,” Paul said, "but the indige-
nous population knows how to survive in a primitive, minimal-
ist culture. The rest will succumb to fighting over interior popu-
lation centers. An unsustainable influx of people from the coast
will doom Brasilia.”
“Security is the big concern for our colony,” Paul contin-
ued. "Really, for every colony. Ours is sufficiently remote to
keep us safe from intruders. It!s unlikely even indigenous tribes
will stumble on us, but you never know. Anyway, we must be
prepared in case they do.”
The two men strolled silently back to the entrance to the
cabin. They realized they would fill their remaining time on the
island with discussions and planning, but that once done there
would be no reason ever to come back. Paul was already feeling
nostalgic about the loss of Mount Aratron. It had served him
very well and from the time he fled America, it was the only
place on Earth he had considered home.

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20

The members of the Deep Labyrinth would by now have

protected themselves. The Network had uncovered many loca-
tions where other secret colonies were in the planning stage or
already under construction. Their populations would survive.
The super rich and powerful business people with enor-
mous wealth, much like he and his father, could and would take
care of themselves. The Network uncovered many of these
colonies, isolated though they were from public view and
knowledge. Likewise, political leaders did not trap themselves
by their public rhetoric of hope. They, too, secretly were in var-
ious stages of creating their own escape colonies. In fact, any-
one with the resources living below 35°N latitude was now
searching to buy the few remaining places on Earth where sus-
tainable communal life could survive.
Even before the abandonment of the first major coastal
city, the concept of "lifeboat colonies” was being floated by sci-
entists horrified by the lack of action commensurate to the
threat. Too often the response to their warnings had been rhetor-
ical, symbolic or when sincere, still woefully short of action
meaningful for survival.
Climate change was unfamiliar and unprecedented chal-
lenge. Even though it was predictable, it was always in the dis-
tant future, at least for Americans. And then, when what should
have been compelling things happened, it was at first gradual. A
poor harvest here, flooding there. Novelty photos of an ice-free
Arctic Ocean that shippers and oil explorers turned into some-
thing good. It was not until a major hurricane inundated New

316


Orleans and forced its evacuation that things began finally to
seem undeniably dire. When the storm passed, this time the wa-
ter remained. The people abandoned the city. Forever.
Americans rarely pay much attention, except briefly, to
things that happen elsewhere in the world. Finally, they started
paying attention with the abandonment to the ocean of more
and more American cities. Then the arguments grew louder
about the meaning of it all and about what to do. And whom to
blame. Mostly about whom to blame.
The concept of "lifeboat colonies” became a more openly
discussed possibility as more coastal cities were abandoned.
But the concept of such colonies seemed to most people im-
practical and more like science fiction than science fact. The
result was once again more talk than action, more acrimony
than agreement.
Later, by the mid #30s, when lifeboat colonies became a
suddenly serious consideration in the public arena of proliferat-
ing arguments, the politics of priorities doomed them to failure.
The challenge of who gets to be saved and who gets to be left
behind raised so many acrimonious debates that the whole idea
was dropped, condemned as "inhumane and elitist.” But while
they dropped only it at the official and visible public policy lev-
el of virtually every nation on Earth, it did not stop the clandes-
tine attraction to the idea, especially when attached to the word
"survival.” For people or organizations with the resources to
fund lifeboat colonies, they did what they wanted without the
distraction of open debate.
They would do what they would do because they could.
When Antarctica destabilized, things moved more deliberately
and with focus.

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As disaster followed disaster, even governments began
clandestine purchases of large tracts of arable or potentially
arable land worldwide. These tracts of land, labeled as passive
investments, as insurance policies, just in case, to be used only
if necessary, proliferated.
What governments can do without arousing suspicion is
form committees to study things. Under the shield of these le-
gitimate government actions, they drew detailed plans for every
aspect of creating lifeboat colonies, a name that after the US
drought of 2032 to 2037 finally stuck in the collective con-
sciousness.
***
Edgar Latimer stepped out of the helicopter and, lowering
his head, moved quickly beyond the range of the still whirling
blades. So that no trip would go to waste several men unloaded
crates of hospital supplies that he brought with him to the
colony. Edgar stood aside and watched the men as they un-
loaded the helicopter onto the nearby carts powered by thermo-
electric batteries.
It never ceased to amaze Edgar what vast amounts of mon-
ey could do, even in these times of mega-inflation. With fore-
thought, Latimer Enterprises had purchased and stored much of
what they needed for their Brazilian colony beginning five
years earlier. They spent their wealth as fast as they could turn
it into materiel, not wanting to risk accumulating a big pile of
what surely would become worthless currency, eventually.
Edgar looked around and was satisfied with the progress at
the colony. The basic shell of the colony was virtually com-
plete. The outer walls and supporting structures of almost every
building planned for the colony were complete. As he drove an
electric cart around what was really a small town in the making,
318


he was content that things had progressed far enough for him
now to stay if he so chose.
He was particularly interested in the housing, cooking and
sanitary arrangements. Several Israeli engineers had been draft-
ed to design these. They were minimal and functional as were
the same requirements for Israeli kibbutzim. Here the progress
had been exceptional.
He was not sure this trip would be permanent or whether
other trips would be necessary before he settled in permanently.
But what he saw pleased him.
Edgar Latimer!s communicator vibrated. Paul was calling.
"So, what do you think, Dad?”
"Looks good. Housing is very far along. Everything seems
to have a good start. Well, except for security. There!s nothing
that I can see addressing that issue.”
"I know. It!s a problem. We haven!t really figured out what
kinds of threats we plan to deal with so we haven!t a plan yet
for dealing with them.”
"Who!s working on that?” Edgar asked.
"We haven!t figured that out yet, either.”
Edgar was not pleased. "Paul, that!s a big hole in the plan-
ning, don!t you think?”
"Not to worry. Weapons we can always get. It!s just a fact
of life. One of the tragedies, really. Anyway, keep the faith. I
am on my way to offer a space in the colony to one of the best
military planners in South Africa. We!ll depend heavily on his
advice if he agrees to come with us. Not married, no kids. I
don!t think it will be a problem. But actually, there is another
challenge for us that turned up. Some of my other planners say

319


two thousand colonists are not enough, not a critical mass for
long-term survival. We need to raise the population to three
thousand in order to have a sustainable population with all the
required skills.”
"Is that a problem?” Edgar asked.
"Not really. We just have to expand the housing and cook-
ing and sanitary systems. I know that sounds like a lot, but
everything is more or less modular, so increasing capacity
shouldn!t be a problem. It just means we get to expand our invi-
tation list. And buy more stuff.”
"Good. Now, Paul, what can I do to help?”
"Well, we!ll need additional modules because of the in-
creased population load. My team is preparing the lists for what
we need. I could use your help in arranging for the purchases
and shipments.”
"Okay. That settles it. I wasn!t sure if I was here for good
or not. So the answer is #no.’”
"Dad, I need you not only to order the stuff, but to get it to
Brazil fast, like yesterday. Can you do it?”
"You!re kidding, right? Or have you forgotten who taught
you everything you know? Send me the lists and I!m on my
way. No, check that. It will have to wait until morning. Send me
all the specs before I leave, starting with the housing modules. I
want personally to get things going and maybe hang around a
bit at the vendors to keep everything rolling. I!ll call the ven-
dors, but also fly to them to make sure they have a plan to meet
our housing, production and shipping schedule. Sanitary sys-
tems next, and finally the kitchen modules. I will hound them.”

320


"Okay, Dad. Work your magic. While you!re there, I mean
at the colony, talk with Svenson about the need for additional
foundation space for the added modules. Have him contact
Heinrich for the requirements. He!s still at the German office, in
Berlin I mean.”
"Got it.”
***
Edgar Latimer walked into the construction manager!s of-
fice to talk with Hugo Svenson. He was a tall, solidly built man
of about sixty years. Strangely, his eyes were of two different
colors, which sometimes served to distract when he was talking
with strangers. He had a slight Norwegian accent and long,
straight, blond hair, a round face and deep wrinkle laugh lines
at the outer edges of his eyes, indicative of a happy disposition.
It was only his size that was intimidating. And his history.
Edgar Latimer had hired Svenson years ago when his new
corporate headquarters was under construction after the compa-
ny made the move to Germany. The project was not going well,
with delays and overruns. Edgar had decided it was time for a
visit to the job site to see what was going on. But construction
was not his specialty, and he sent a specialist. Hugo Svenson!s
name came up as someone highly regarded with serious con-
struction experience. He also was a former Special Forces offi-
cer in the Norwegian military. Latimer hired him for this as-
signment and sent him to assess the management of the head-
quarters construction project.
The job site construction manager got wind of Svenson!s
visit, knew why he was coming and didn!t like it one bit. As
soon as Svenson entered the construction manager!s office he
met with a barrage of threats and insults that he was a corporate
321


spy, a stooge for management and only there to rat him out. It
was obvious the manager was a belligerent drunk. And he was
large as well, about Svenson!s size. Svenson stood his ground,
waited until the tirade was over and then said, "I!ve been stand-
ing here for two minutes listening to your bullshit and you still
haven!t offered me a drink.”
This unexpected reaction clearly caught the manager by
surprise. It stopped him short for a long enough moment for the
atmosphere to change. The manager turned, pulled out another
glass from a cupboard beside his desk and poured Svenson a
drink, which Svenson downed in one slug. He held his glass out
for another shot, and the manager quickly obliged. After that,
the two men had a frank and productive discussion.
Later, when Svenson reported the details of this encounter
to Edgar Latimer, Latimer asked him what he would have done
if the construction manager had attacked him. Svenson said,
"Mr. Latimer, they have trained me to kill too well. If there was
going to be a body on the floor that day, it wouldn!t be mine.”
Svenson returned to the site to assist the construction manager,
and the project finished on schedule and within budget.
After that assignment, Svenson gained a permanent job
with Latimer Enterprises.
As Edgar Latimer entered the colony construction office,
Svenson warmly greeted him at the door. Latimer quickly re-
layed his son!s message to Svenson regarding additional foun-
dations and promised to follow it up soon with the specifica-
tions for all the additional modules.
***
"What the fuck,” Paul Latimer exclaimed to Svenson when
he learned of the delays in shipping additional housing modules
322


and energy storage packs for the increased power requirements
of their Brazilian colony. The windmills could generate more
than enough energy, but the existing number of storage packs
would get overloaded and burn out.
"Everything is getting harder and harder to find,” his father
told him on the phone. "I!ll keep working it, but we may need
an alternative storage approach besides batteries. I have a group
of engineers working on a mechanical storage system. Get mas-
sive wheels turning and store the energy as kinetic energy. We
can recover it later by using the spinning wheels to run a gener-
ator. It!s an old idea. Or maybe just old fashion lead acid stor-
age batteries. Anyway, the guys are on it. We may need to find a
generator somewhere from an old decommissioned power sta-
tion. I!ve got a lead on that already and I think it will work.”
"What about the other modules?” Paul Latimer asked his
father.
"They!re going to be less of a problem. I!m just going to
need to use some different vendors here and there. The stuff
won!t exactly visually match the other units already on site, but
this isn!t a beauty contest, right? It!ll work and the whole shit
storm should just delay us maybe a week. No more.”
"Okay, Dad, that sounds better than the story I first heard.”
"When is our security consultant, Colonel Zhokwana, com-
ing from South Africa and is he prepared to stay permanently?”
the elder Latimer asked.
"He!s arriving in two days and no, I haven!t offered him a
spot yet. First things first. He!ll meet with me here to discuss
security needs. Then, he says, he will personally have to over-
see the purchase of the necessary hardware. He says a lot of

323


crap is being falsely labeled and peddled for high prices. He
says he can!t trust agents to handle this. I like this guy.”
"What if you offer him a spot and he decides not accept?
Does that compromise our security?”
"No, Dad. Not to worry. All he will know is that we are
somewhere in the Brazilian rain forest. Not exactly a significant
lead.”
"Some of The Network team have been arguing that we
should have done security first, but I agree with you, Paul, that
it makes more sense to do it last, so we know exactly what
we!re protecting and the likely adversaries at the time of com-
pletion of the colony. Plus the external environment, politically
and militarily I mean, seems to change every day.”
Paul Latimer looked around his location in the colony and
satisfied himself that he was alone.
"You know, we have to get busy on the #invitations.!$ We
have already offered people population slots here. All agreed.
Because we wanted only unmarried workers and supervisors,
we have minimized the problem of family. Still, there are
twelve among the colony work force that have family and we!ll
invite them as well. Just not yet. You and I will need to get go-
ing on the list for the rest of the colony population.”
"When I get back, I promise,” Edgar Latimer said.
Paul Latimer put his communicator back in his pocket. He
was planning to stay at the colony, but suddenly had second
thoughts. He called his father back.
"Dad, what about my family?”
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone
connection.

324


"Paul, we!ve talked about this before. That part of our lives
is dead. There!s only your wife and son left. All these years
they!ve believed you to be dead. We did this for their own safe-
ty. So they expect nothing from you. They are the wife and
child of a former Vice President of the United States. They have
their own support system. The Network!s penetration into their
lives has been superficial because there was no need, but what
we do know is we will not abandon them. You know all this.”
"Dad, I miss them. My focus all these years was the down-
fall of The World Federation. It!s done, and now I have time at
last to feel that loss. I can!t help it. I know they will be taken
care of, will probably end up somewhere in the Northern US or
Southern Canada. I know. I know. But I miss them.”
"What is it you want to see happen, son?”
"I want to let them know I am alive. I want them to have
the choice to be here with us. I want them to have that choice.”
"Paul, I don!t think that!s possible or even a good idea. The
US is a black hole for us. You know that. And if we get word to
them but can!t get them out, then what. We!ve just made them
suffer again. They dealt with losing you once. Do you want
them to repeat that?”
Paul was silent. He knew his father was right. But still…
Finally, Paul said, "I!ll call you in two days when Colonel
Zhokwana arrives.” He closed the connection and turned to re-
turn to the construction office.
***
The Russian VTOL flew low and fast. With the extra fuel
tanks, the pilot could bring Paul Latimer in easily under Cana-
dian radar from its base on Wrangel Island in the Chukchi Sea

325


just off the coast of the Russian mainland. Its destination was a
drop off point a few kilometers outside of Meadow Lake,
Canada. Meadow Lake, with a population of about six thou-
sand, in northern Saskatchewan was sufficiently remote and
sparsely populated that an arrival there, Paul Latimer felt,
would go unnoticed.
The pilot landed in a reed-covered clearing, stayed long
enough for Latimer with his backpack to get well away from
the jet. First taking off vertically, it rapidly disappeared from
view, flying swiftly and low back to its base.
Latimer took a GPS compass from his pocket to get his
bearings and began walking to the nearby town of Meadow
Lake. It was an icy morning, and he established a brisk pace.
By the time he reached the town, he was hungry. He checked in
first at the Super 8 motel on Route 4 and then walked across the
street to the Meadow Lake Mall. He had spotted a McDonald!s
sign and decided that was just what he wanted on his way back
to his home country from which he had been absent for so long.
After breakfast he walked to the car rental office just out-
side the mall also on Route 4 and rented a compact car. He
made sure to fully charge it since his destination was Val Marie,
the Canadian town near the border with the US. It was about six
hundred kilometers straight south. The car should just make it
with a full starting charge. The advertised the range as a bit
over six hundred kilometers and with the usual engineering
cushion, he should be fine, he decided.
Val Marie was about another twenty-five kilometers to the
port of entry to the United States. He would recharge in Val
Marie and leave the next day. His papers were clean, and he

326


was confident of a problem-free crossing. Once in the US, he
would make his way to Samantha and Trent.
He still had not worked out exactly how he would do this.
To appear out of the blue after all these years with them believ-
ing he was dead would be quite a shock. How would he explain
the big lie that he was dead? In the past, he had to keep the truth
from her for her own safety. He had no choice. But would she
understand that? Would she understand that when he left he was
a hunted man, a target for assassination? Anyone knowing his
whereabouts would not only be a threat to him but in grave
danger themselves.
However, time had changed the conditions and the threats.
He believed he now could safely reveal himself to his wife.
His father, who had helped maintain the deception of his
death, for everyone!s sake, would help in the walking back of
the story. But how?
I know I have to reemerge in stages, first creating an unex-
pected suggestion that recent information had emerged about
me. Dad will message her. Some exciting news he didn!t want to
discuss over the phone. That he would contact her again as
soon as he could. She won't know what it was about, but he
would have planted a seed of suspicion. As I get closer, Dad
will message again, explaining everything. And then I!ll just
show up at some designated place. I can pay some kid in town
to deliver the location to her. That could be a problem. It can!t
be at the house, not for the first time. While I!m no longer an
active threat to The World Federation, I!m still a threat in theo-
ry. For my safety, the house is out, at least for the first meeting..
I!ll think of something on my way to Coeur d!Alene. Meanwhile,
Dad will send the first message today. We!re all planning for the
327


#end of days!$ and I just want Samantha to know the truth and
her options.
I!ll be in Coeur d!Alene in three days.
Samantha Latimer saw this note on her doorstep in the
morning when she was about to walk her dog:
Sammy, meet me at Tubbs Hill. Enter alone at
the South Third Street entrance. I!ll meet you at
interpretive Station 24 at 3 o!clock today. For
my safety, tell no one.
Love,
P
***
Latimer saw her coming. As she got closer, he stepped out
from behind a tree, directly in her path.
"Sammy,” he whispered.
His wife halted. Her long red hair rippled as her head
shook rapidly from side to side, revealing her struggle between
supposition and belief. She was more than twenty meters from
her husband, and she looked dazed and uncertain about what to
do next. Latimer walked slowly towards her. He got only a few
meters when she suddenly held up her hand, stopping him. His
lips began to move, but no words came out.
She looked at him intensely, studying him, trying to con-
firm intellectually what she was seeing, not trusting herself.
"Paul.”
It wasn't a question. It was more like an affirmation.
"Sammy,” Latimer responded. He resumed walking slowly
toward her. He stopped when he was about a meter away. He
didn!t want to seem too aggressive, not knowing how she would
react. He held out his hand to her.
328


"Let!s walk up the old fire road,” he said.
Silently, she took his hand, and they turned onto the road
to the summit. They walked together without speaking until La-
timer saw a wooden bench. He moved to it and gestured for
Samantha to sit down. He then sat down beside her.
Looking uncertain, he took both her hands in his.
"I don!t know where to start. It!s all so complicated.”
Samantha released her hands from his grip and folded
them in her lap.
"When I vanished, when Slaider was taking over the coun-
try, when he shut down Congress, when he was creating crises
just so he could solve them or to get more power, when he was
murdering people, well … you didn!t really know about that.
But I did. I tried warning people, but it was no use. It was im-
possible to fight against the powers given to Slaider by the state
of emergency decree. When the Air Force rebellion failed, I had
no choice but to escape. I knew the truth and they would have
killed me to silence me for good.”
“But why didn!t you let me know you were alive?”
Samantha asked. "Even if it was too dangerous to tell me where
you were. Why did your dad continue this deception? I would
have understood.”
"Yes, and you would have been seen as relieved instead of
bereaved. And they would know. They would know just by your
natural reaction and the hunt for me or my body would have
intensified. You have no idea how dangerous those people were.
If they thought you knew where I was, they would not be above
torturing you to get the information. And then killing you. They
killed President Drummond. Killing you and Trent would just

329


be all in a day!s work to them. There was no other way, Sam. I
had to vanish.”
"I guess I played my part well then. I was devastated, and it
showed. We were all devastated. We were told you were a trai-
tor, that you had fled to Europe and then that you were dead.”
She looked at him sharply in the eye. "Do you understand? At
first we didn!t believe any of it. It just didn!t make sense that
you could be a traitor. What could you possibly have wanted
that you didn!t already have that would drive you to betray your
country? But important people kept repeating these stories to us
over and over until… I don!t know. We came to believe what
they were telling us.”
"Sitting here beside you, I!m living proof they were lying,
but not just about my death. About everything.” He took her
hands again. "Do you believe me?”
She reached up to feel his face, and as she did so, she gen-
tly pulled him toward her. Slowly, slowly she brought her lips
to his and slowly kissed him gently. Latimer kissed her back,
but was careful to put no more into the kiss than what she
brought. After several seconds, he backed away slightly.
Samantha moved close to him again and rested her head on his
chest.
"It!s been so hard with you gone,” she said in almost a
whisper.
"I know, Sam, and I!m so sorry. I thought of you and Trent
every single day.” He stroked her long hair, her head still on his
chest.
"We kept the secret from you well, Dad and I, that I was
not dead. They weren!t sure for a long time, Lal and Llewelyn.

330


Now Lal knows I!m alive. And while I!m not a top priority
anymore for him, he would still like to get his hands on me for
what I!ve done since I left America and for other reasons of
state. Oh, I!m sure General Slaider, somewhere in his crazy mix
of rationales, believed he was doing good, but for the most part
it was about power, the power to affect change. But it was
change they alone decided on, change they believed was worth
any cost. And the cost was very high. I swore revenge on them,
that I would destroy them. Now it all seems so pointless.”
Samantha put a finger to Latimer!s lips to stop him from
speaking. "Paul, why are you here, now?”
Latimer got up and began slowly pacing in front of Saman-
tha. Then he stopped and looking down at her and said, "I!ve
come to get you. And Trent. To take you to safety.”
"But we are safe. Your dad has been taking care of us fi-
nancially and as you arranged, no one is haunting us about you.
Early on there were questions and all, but that!s been over for
years. Why now?”
"Sam, you!re not safe. You only think you are. Here in
Coeur d!Alene it feels safe because it!s so far from where the
immediate dangers lie, from where climate change is real and
happening and where there is incredible death and destruction.
But it won!t stay safe here.”
"But, Paul, Coeur d!Alene is one of those places that will
be better off with global warming. We!ll be even safer when the
rising heat reaches us.”
"No! It only seems that way. Think about it, Sammy. All
those people in the south, dying of thirst and hunger just need to
look north to happy Coeur d!Alene and they!ll say #I want some
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of that.!$ And before you know it, there will be a wave of mi-
grants and then a flood of desperate people wanting what you
have. And there will be open war either to capture or to protect
Coeur d!Alene. And not just here, but everywhere that global
warming will have made things better. Or where life could at
least be sustainable. People are running out of places to escape
to. You may think you!re safe, Sam. You may think you are, but
you!re not safe here.”
Samantha sat staring at Latimer. Saying nothing. Not
knowing what to say. She sighed and turned her head away, her
hands folded in her lap. Latimer waited patiently. When she was
ready to speak, she turned her head once more to face him.
"Paulie,” she said quietly, "I know I should be overjoyed to
see you, to see you alive, to be with you again.” She pulled a
slip of paper from a pocket in her skirt. "When I got this letter
from your dad, I knew it was about you. Paulie, old wounds I
thought were healed began to bleed again. After you disap-
peared, for the first few years I, we mourned for you, but in a
state of utter confusion … with the traitor thing and all. But we
mourned, truly we did. And then for two years I didn!t care
whether you were a traitor or not. I just missed you. It wasn!t
mourning any more. It was worse. It was like there was a hole
in my soul, in my heart, that just was growing bigger every day
until I felt it would swallow me up. I really felt, Paulie, that I
was disappearing into a kind of … I don!t know, a kind of non-
living life. Not really present, but present anyway because one
can!t help being present. You know? The body keeps moving,
but the light behind the eyes disappears. They become the dead
eyes of … of a goldfish. Of a picture of a goldfish.”

332


Samantha gave a quick laugh at her description of the
most dead living thing she could imagine.
"And then,” she continued, "I just pulled myself up and
went on with life. First it was for Trent, and then it was for me.
I stopped the angry #Why me?!$ questioning. I realized there is
no one!s life where heartbreak hasn!t entered. There had been a
time to weep and then it was over. I rejoined life, Paulie, when I
accepted your death.”
She looked up at him. "And now you—a confused memo-
ry—appear and say, as if from your grave, you!ve come to save
me. Us. To take us away. Can you save me from death? How
does that work, my darling? Oh, Paulie … you!re at least five
years too late. My life, our lives are here and here we will die,
however that may be. I!m not afraid of death, Paulie, because
I!ve died already once.”
Paul Latimer knelt in front of his wife, his hands resting on
her thighs. He felt her body through the dress she wore. She
looked into his eyes. She placed her hands on either side of his
face. She held his face in a gentle grip.
"We have a life here,” she continued. "You haven!t been a
part of it for more than ten years. What difference does it make
where we die?”
Latimer eased her hands away, stood up and standing be-
fore her, looking down at her looking up at him, expressionless,
he didn!t know what to say. He looked around at the beauty sur-
rounding him, at the panoramic view of Coeur d!Alene from
where they were near the summit, at the clear blue sky streaked
here and there with icy clouds high in the atmosphere. He
looked at the woods and even down at the old wooden bench

333


they were only seconds ago sitting on with its multicolored
patches of lichen. Life was everywhere about them.
"Sam, I!m offering you a choice even if you don!t think you
want one. Just consider for a moment the descent into hell that
is coming. I can offer you safety and stability. And we!ll be a
family again.”
Samantha shook her head slowly from side to side.
"Is there nothing I can say?” he asked.
"No, it!s too late,” she said with sad resignation.
Latimer sighed, recognizing the resolution in his wife!s
voice. Their past suddenly seemed like another life lived long
ago by someone else.
"What have we done?” he sobbed, pulling Samantha to
him. "To the world, Sammy?” He hugged her fiercely. "To the
world. It!s all over.” His body shuddered, stricken with the cer-
tain knowledge of what was to come, and the sorrow for what
had already happened.
Latimer pulled himself up straight. "Sam, I have other
obligations. I can!t stay. I!m sorry.”
They walked back arm in arm in silence to the trailhead
where she parked her car. She opened the car door, turned and
kissed him.
"Goodbye, Paulie,” she said and drove away.
***
It took Latimer six days to work his way undetected back
to Brazil and the colony.

334


21

It was a beautiful late spring day. May in Denver, 2045.

Modest, comfortable temperature, clear blue sky broken here
and there with low, billowing, strikingly white clouds. Tree leaf
buds bursting along with an early bloom of Oleander adorning
the center dividers of many Denver boulevards. A perfect day.
The seat of national government, now occupied about five
hundred hectares of the Rocky Mountain Arsenal National
Wildlife Refuge, only eight miles from downtown Denver. The
complex was a picture of contrasts. Sprawling office buildings
set amid a high range meadow with plentiful deer, coyotes,
prairie dogs and bison living and roaming freely. To the west of
the government complex was a dramatic view of the Denver
skyline.
A former factory and development location for chemical
weapons, a massive cleanup effort after the Vietnam War even-
tually made the land suitable as a wildlife refuge but not suit-
able for human habitation. Then things changed and the rising
level of the ocean and nearby Chesapeake Bay inundated Wash-
ington DC. In the 2030s another cleanup effort allowed for the
safe construction on and occupation of those five hundred
hectares.
One by one, the buildings of a new federal district took
shape. Its name was Washington DNM, Washington District of
New Manhattan, named for the location of the first capital of
the United States and for the first President. Over five years
they moved the essential elements of federal activity to DNM,
and by 2045 the only federal headquarters not moved within the

335


enclave was the CIA Langley center in Fairfax County, Vir-
ginia.
The move proved unexpectedly beneficial. It resulted in a
great deal of shedding of the outdated, unused and unneeded.
Agencies disappeared along with a horde of government em-
ployees. The size of the federal government, as reflected by its
payroll, diminished by a full eighteen percent after the move.
However, the obligations of the federal government remained
not one jot less because of the escalating burdens brought on by
climate change.
And still it was a perfect day in DNM. The spring of 2045
had been #one for the record books,!$ as the Denverites unani-
mously proclaimed. Except for President Kendrick. He was
having a bad spring. The Denver Basin aquifer was nearing col-
lapse from excessive drawdowns. Replenishment was taking
too long to match the rate of water withdrawal, and the only
solution was to reduce the population of Denver County. The
federal government froze all new development in the Denver
Metropolitan District. Immigration to Denver County stopped
five years earlier, and the population steadily decline through
attrition. By 2045 the population of Denver was sixty percent of
its 2020 population.
The report on President Kendrick!s desk said the aquifer
would need significant replenishment by 2060 or the New
Manhattan District, not to mention Denver, would experience a
serious water deficit. When the planners decided to move the
federal district to Denver, evidently no one projected the water
conditions over a time horizon greater than five years from the
commencement of the construction of the federal district. All

336


Kendrick could do about this now was pray for rain. He had
been doing a lot of praying lately.
The president decided he needed some spiritual suste-
nance, so he abandoned his desk and slipped to his rose garden.
The bushes were almost past their time, many of the flowers
had dropped their pedals and the rose hips were in full form.
However, there was enough beauty to justify his move out-
doors.
Kendrick was exhausted. Over and over recently he had
been asking himself why he fought so hard to get this job. Pres-
ident of the United States when the very existence of a national
entity was falling into chaos and uncertainty. Worldwide, mass
migrations of food refugees obliterated national borders, des-
perate to find safe harbor in a world of rapidly shrinking sanc-
tuary. American military presence outside of the borders of the
continental US had almost entirely returned home. A substantial
portion of the military personnel returned from overseas posts
redeployed along the northern and southern borders. These bor-
ders were now completely militarized. Likewise, the President
pulled back US fleets, relocating them to protect and patrol the
nation!s coasts.
The air ports-of-entry into the United States for travelers
had been reduced to El Paso, Houston and Tallahassee on the
southern border; San Diego and San Francisco on the west
coast; and Savannah, Richmond and Providence on the east
coast. Naval ports-of-entry had been continually in a state of
flux due to the no longer predictable rise in sea level. Random
collapses into the sea by portions of the Antarctic and Green-
land ice fields produced sudden surges in sea level rise that
made permanent naval port construction almost impossible.

337


Worldwide, shipping port facilities had become exclusively
modular, moveable and temporary.
Kendrick could not remember a day that did not contain
reports of starving populations, gun battles for local control of
arable land or potable water, or both. The world was a total
freaking mess, he thought, as he sat alone in his rose garden. He
was told over and over as a younger man that he was part of the
last lucky generation, Well, he thought, I guess I just missed it.
It was his father!s generation. Because this one is not just turn-
ing apocalyptic. It is the Apocalypse, full-blown.
Would it be his fate, he wondered, to preside over the
demise of the United States? Or at least the United States as it
was understood for almost two hundred and seventy years. The
relentless escalation of climate change affects was sealing a
new destiny for every living thing on Earth and Americans
would not be spared, he thought with a sigh.
Borders may be blocked and sealed, but within the con-
tiguous 48 states there was a migration that dwarfed that during
the dust bowl years of the twentieth century. As with everything
else in the twenty-first century, it was more and bigger and
more widespread and … what? More intractable.
Kendrick sat on a bench facing the fountain at the center of
the garden. Beyond was the misty phantom of the Denver sky-
line. He took a cigar from his inside jacket pocket and his
lighter from the outside jacket pocket. A good cigar, well, any
cigar, he thought, was getting more and more difficult to find
these days when inedible agricultural products were virtually
nonexistent, farmland now being reserved only for food produc-
tion.

338


Rank has its privileges and someone on his staff took care
a few years earlier to create a small stash for him, enough to
last the rest of his life. It was one of the few vices Kendrick in-
dulged in, and he was careful not to make a show of it. In the
solitary peace of the Rose Garden, he was already feeling its
healing calm as he allowed himself a smile and an inner direc-
tive to throw caution to the wind as he lit up.
With his first exhale, he leaned back comfortably on the
bench and let his thoughts wander. At the water!s edge, on the
north side of the fountain, there was a stand of pickerelweed,
still in bloom with lances of tiny purple flowers. It reminded
him of his youth in Connecticut and his hikes in the forests and
his delight in the ponds he found there, surrounded often by
pickerelweed and cattails. How many tranquil hours he spent in
the New England forests!
He tapped the ash off his cigar, looked at the lit end for
several seconds for no other reason than that there was no rea-
son not to, and resumed his smoking. Kendrick hoped to spend
an appropriate amount of time enjoying his cigar, worthy of the
tobacco used to make it. This and all his cigars were from
Cuba, where you could buy the best cigar tobacco in the world
outlawed on the island nation in 2031. As with everywhere else,
inedible crops could no longer waste prime farmland.
The Cuban government announced that 2031 would be the
last year for a Cuban tobacco harvest, Cuban cigars once again
disappeared from store shelves as entire inventories vanished,
either for scalping or for hoarding.
Kendrick was not halfway through with his cigar when he
heard hurried footsteps behind him. He turned to the sound and

339


saw his Senior Special Assistant running toward him. This can!t
be good, he thought. Running is never good.
Out of breath by the time she reached him, she said, "Mr.
President, you need to go immediately to the Situation Room.
It!s an emergency.”
"Of course it is,” he said, getting up. He looked at his cigar
and the lost opportunity it represented. He tapped the end
against the back of the bench and put the stub in his outside
jacket pocket. Too good to waste, he thought, as he walked
slowly back to the Executive Block.
***
"A reconnaissance plane on routine patrol along the north-
ern border with Canada strayed into Canadian territory, was en-
gaged and shot down. That!s all we know at the moment, Mr.
President.” The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs shuffled papers as
if in a vain search for more to say.
Kendrick looked at him with an astonished expression.
"What do you mean, that!s all you know?” he asked.
"Mr. President, if I may, Sir?” interjected the Secretary of
State. "We!re trying to contact the Canadian Prime Minister as
we speak. We haven!t heard from anyone in the Canadian gov-
ernment about this. It!s almost as if they!re unaware that some-
thing happened. We!re using every channel of communication
to find any responsible person in Canada who can speak to
this.”
"The pilot?” the President asked.
"Dead, sir. I regret to say.”
The President turned to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.
"General, now tell me what the fuck really happened.”
340


The general immediately put on a quizzical expression.
"Sir?”
"General, we!re not talking about Cambodia. We!re talking
about Canada. We don!t stray over the border into Canada. Did
one of your Air Force buddies get the bright idea for a closer
look at the Canadian side? Did the satellites show any unusual
activity? What? What was it that got this pilot killed?”
The general remained silent.
"I want that pilot!s commanding officer and his command-
ing officer!s commanding officer here by six o!clock today.
Then I want to meet with them and with you by six thirty. In my
office. Go! Now! Make this happen.”
Turning to the Secretary of State, he said, "You realize
what this means.”
"Yes, Sir.”
"The Canadians aren!t stupid. I was wondering how long
we could keep this up. With almost two million active military
personnel in the US thanks to our overseas base closings, we
couldn!t expect the Canadians to buy the story forever that it
was just to safeguard the borders.” Kendrick pulled out the cig-
ar stub from his pocket and lit it.
"It!s obvious the Canadians are getting very nervous about
our intentions,” the Secretary of State said.
"I hoped that deploying roughly equal strength to each
border would buy us more time to think this all out. But obvi-
ously Canada is fortifying their border with us. And this thing
with the plane. Some fool in the Air Force let his pilot do a little
unauthorized snooping, and it gave Canada a perfect opportuni-
ty for a shot across our bow.” Kendrick waved away a small

341


cloud of cigar smoke that had gathered near his face. "I don!t
like to be on the receiving end of a warning shot,” the President
continued. "This straying over the border, it!s a deeper problem
than a screw up. It was an intentional breach of command dis-
cipline.”
The President tapped the communication screen built into
the top right corner of his desk. A female voice said, "Yes, Mr.
President?”
Kendrick thought for a moment before answering his sec-
retary. "Never mind,” he said. He turned to his Secretary of
State. "This needs to be handled very carefully and very dis-
creetly,” he said. "We may be on the cusp of something much
worse happening here. Our cover story of border security, well,
obviously Canada isn!t buying that any more. And now, are we
starting to lose control of our military?”
Having nothing to add or contradict, the Secretary of State
remained silent. Silence, anyway, always implies agreement,
Kendrick thought.
The President continued. "I want you to fly to Ottawa
tonight, ostensibly to discuss the plane incident. When you
meet with Prime Minister Boullet let him know that for the sta-
bility of both our nations we must conclude an agreement with-
in the next six months regarding the movement from the US
into Canada of a large population of farmers and farm hands
along with the equipment needed to support their work. Find
out what Canada would want in return for allowing this migra-
tion to occur. Make it clear that time is running out. No threats.
Just say that the President has given you a six-month window to
conclude negotiations or he will explore other options. Say you
don!t as yet know what those options are, that I haven!t shared
342


them with you since the President prefers a concluded agree-
ment with Canada. I want it vague but ominous. Understood?”
"Yes, sir. Just for my clarity, what are those other options?”
"The Canadians already think the other option is war and
US occupation of Canada. But I will be damned if I go down in
history as the president who made war on our neighbor to the
north. So just conclude a successful agreement with Canada and
we won!t have to think about war.”
The President got up from behind his desk and moving to
its front sat casually on the edge. He removed his jacket, plac-
ing it across his desk over several piles of reports and docu-
ments ready for signing. He put his glasses down on the desk as
well and rubbed his face slowly but firmly with both hands be-
fore addressing the Secretary of State again.
"Tom Spinichek, in the Agriculture Department, forecasts
the worst US harvest since the dust bowl drought of the 2030s.
Latin America is a bleeding disaster. In less than five years
we!ll have to abandon the southern half of our country. Hearing
this in normal times, anyone would have a right to question my
sanity. But these are not normal times. The US so far has not
endured the millions of deaths elsewhere by starvation or water
deprivation, but not for much longer. We!ll have millions of
dead and dying. If we don!t get an agreement with Canada to
use their southern farmland, well, I don!t even want to think
about the further breakdown of law and order that will result.
You must get an agreement.”
President Kendrick walked to where the Secretary of State
sat and stood above him. The Secretary rose immediately as the
President approached. The President rested his left hand on the
Secretary!s shoulder and taking the Secretary!s right hand in his.
343


He shook it firmly and vigorously. "I will not save our people
by killing Canadians. Go. Now. Make this agreement happen
and God bless you with success.”
The Secretary of State released the President!s hand and
said only, "Yes, Mr. President and thank you, sir.” He turned
and left the President!s office.
***
(AP) August 15, 2045 — A large section of land-based ice
from the Greenland Ice Field broke free of its bond to the
ground below it and slid into the Denmark Strait. Professor
Wilhelm Struder of Switzerland!s Bern University explained that
the rapid melting of Greenland!s ice has sent continual streams
of water throughout the nation!s ice field. This water, Dr. Strud-
er explained, has over the decades been lubricating the under-
side of the ice field and finally created enough instability to al-
low portions of it to slide into the sea. Ocean levels worldwide
almost immediately rose an average of two more meters, further
inundating coastal regions. Ports around the world not already
abandoned received another crushing blow. Transport of mate-
rials via ships has come almost to a standstill resulting in dan-
gerous shortages almost everywhere.
World Federation President, Ranjit Lal, stressed today that
time had run out. He claimed that the only thing that could save
us from catastrophic environmental collapse was a worldwide
mobilization of resources and an unwavering commitment to
halt the continued heating of Earth. He said that the effort
needed would have to be on the scale of a world war, where
failure is not an option.
Elsewhere, at the California Institute of Technology, plans
for the so-called "hail Mary” option using geoengineering
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methods to reduce the amount of sunlight striking Earth!s at-
mosphere moved forward despite widespread fears among cli-
mate scientists that this strategy might actually make things
worse. Scientists at Caltech, however, seem to agree with Presi-
dent Lal!s assertion that time is up and there is no choice but to
try desperate measures.
Climatologists at the Berkeley campus of the University of
California fear that continued introduction of freshwater flow-
ing into the Atlantic Ocean from the Greenland ice field melt
could stop the Gulf Stream, the world!s second largest ocean
current after the Antarctic Circumpolar Current. Ironically, de-
prived of the warming impact of the Gulf Stream, this could
cause a dramatic decrease in the average temperatures of all
western coastlines of Ireland, Great Britain, Europe and Africa,
Shortages in essential goods have spread across the interi-
or territories of North America due to the influx of refugees
from the coastal cities. Gun battles have erupted between local
communities and the migrating refugees all throughout north-
ern United States and southern Canada.
And this just in. We have learned today that President
Kendrick has ordered the imposition of nationwide martial law
in response to widespread looting and rioting, joining a grow-
ing list of other countries having already taken similar action
for the same reasons.
Over the last several weeks the values of key currencies
have collapsed and money has virtually disappeared as in-
vestors rush to precious metals and diamonds as so-called "safe
harbor” investments. All major stock exchanges stopped trad-
ing today pending a return to order in the financial markets.

345


Dr. Johann Maartensen, president of The World Bank, has
stated that the worldwide retreat of business activity will likely
last for some time. Many locations around the world, he said,
are resorting to a barter system for conducting business.
Francine Hoverman, Chairman of The World Federation
Council on Refugees, claims that dislocations because of rising
sea level have reached at least two billion people worldwide
and a growing toll in lives lost approaching five hundred mil-
lion. Ms Hoverman added that if the monsoon season fails to
materialize again, repeating the lack of rain last year, we can
expect the number of deaths due to starvation and dehydration
to rise once again, perhaps doubling the current number.
***
President Kendrick was not a religious man, but for quite a
long time he thought he would welcome comfort from any
source. Earth!s human population from recent estimates had al-
ready dropped by close to one billion people because of the
consequences of global warming, but also through a remarkable
drop in male fertility. Whether it was from the changing diets
caused by agricultural realities or whether it was Earth invoking
an immune response to mankind as a species of infection, no
one knew. But creative speculation abounded.
Violence, too, was taking its toll. While a nuclear war was
narrowly averted between Pakistan and India, there were grow-
ing conventional conflicts over food and water and the chaos of
mass migrations. In the United States alone, gun battles raged
every night in the cities between locals and migrants encroach-
ing from the abandoned territories in the southern states. Local
governments set up tent cities across the country in an attempt

346


to manage and care for the displaced, but they were quickly
overwhelmed and overrun. And the violence spread.
Worldwide, relief resources of food, water and medicine
were being depleted and the ability to replenish them was rapid-
ly disappearing into the turbulence of broken financial, manu-
facturing, transportation and distribution systems. The capitalist
system was breaking down everywhere. The consumer econo-
my was dead. With the value of paper money, dependent on
faith in the stability of central governments, collapsing every-
where, business and commerce were rapidly degenerating to a
barter system, where possible. Transactions failed entirely
where people failed to agree on bartering terms. With the
world!s leading economists offering no braking mechanism,
business failures became pandemic. The world was experienc-
ing an apparently unstoppable capitalism extinction event.
While the recall of US military forces around the world
dealt havoc with the various local economies, it provided need-
ed manpower resources to regain control of the many US cities
engulfed in violence. However, President Kendrick knew any
steps taken, no matter how extreme, to regain control of the
population would only work for so long. Like Belshazzar, he
saw the handwriting on the wall. Humanity had been weighed
in the balance and found wanting. And like Belshazzar, he knew
his days were numbered. He would be the last President of the
United States.
***
President Lal read the dispatch with disbelief.
The United States military has seized control of the gov-
ernment and was engaged in a full-scale attack on Canada.
President Kendrick, along with all members of his cabinet, were

347


under arrest and the military had placed the entire country un-
der martial law. All US road, train and air traffic were ordered
to stand down by noon.
So this is how it all ends, Lal thought. China leaving the
Federation was a severe, but not a deathblow, yet. I could have
made accommodations. Even with the drop in revenue for the
World Federation as more and more countries shifted their pri-
orities from energy to food and water, I could make adjust-
ments. But with the collapse of the civilian government in the
United States, the balloon of hope had finally stretched too far,
and burst.
So this is how it ends, he thought again, not with a whim-
per but a bang, rearranging to suit the occasion the words of T.
S. Eliot, one of his favorite poets. He felt a deep level of disap-
pointment, but not regret, anguish or despair over the turn of
events. His faith, an eclectic composite of Hinduism and Bud-
dhism, fostered freedom from attachments to things, people or
outcomes. What happens is what was conditioned to happen by
prior events. There is no such thing as destiny, he believed. The
Law of Karma always compels the earned path. It!s a nuanced
difference. If you are successful, it was an earned consequence
of your prior actions. And if you fail, that too was earned.
The Eastern view does not rely on following a true and just
path based on rules, which one could follow or ignore. Nor is it
based on commandments asserting what you must do on pain of
dire consequences if you rebel. No, the Law of Karma and the
fact of reincarnation conditions one!s path—creates an earned
path.
Lal, born to the faith, knew the Law of Karma was other-
wise known as the Law of Cause and Effect. To the believer, the

348


Law of Karma had the same irresistible force as Newton!s laws
of physics. Lal believed in the Law and its dictum that actions
have consequences. Actions are skillful and wholesome, or they
are unskillful and unwholesome. There is no good or evil, just
skillful or unskillful. Wholesome or unwholesome.
Lal knew that sometimes it was difficult to distinguish the
wholesome from the unwholesome. No matter. The Law of
Karma drives the consequences. Wholesome acts eventually
result in wholesome consequences. Unwholesome acts result in
unwholesome consequences. In the present life or in the next
life. The consequences of all one!s acts eventually ripen and
bear fruit accordingly.
Lal was certain that whatever happened in his life derived
from the karma that he accumulated in his current life and his
previous lives. What carries forward in rebirth, in reincarnation,
was that inescapable bundle of accumulated consequences. His
karma was a mixture of wholesome and unwholesome acts that
would ripen either to be enjoyed or to be endured as the Law
unfolded the future.
To Lal, the billion deaths already suffered, and the many
more certain to follow were in a way a crass understanding of
the Law of Karma to be merely "getting what all those people
deserved.” Crass and uniquely lacking in comfort from the
Western religious traditions. But to the Eastern faithful, there is
comfort in the understanding that misery and misfortune were
evidence of the working out and moving past the unwholesome
consequences of one!s karma.
The World Federation, born in the fires of death and de-
struction, was, to Lal!s understanding, now experiencing the
consequences of its originating acts. General Slaider!s murder-
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ous good intentions, the people sacrificed to those intentions,
the destruction, the angry energy, the lies and deception created
their karmic consequences. The Law abides, Lal mused, when
eventually the effects clarify the nature of the cause. There is no
such corollary to the Law of Karma that the ends justify the
means. The seeds of the lotus will produce only a lotus, and the
seeds of the strangling fig will produce only the strangling fig.
When The World Federation was born, Lal forgot or ig-
nored this simple truth. Now he was working out his karma for
those early unskillful acts, as was the United States, The Peo-
ple!s Republic of China and every other member of the Federa-
tion.
The World Federation was as good as dead as was the
world to which it had given birth. There just remained to ac-
knowledge the truth of this. He signaled to his secretary,
Gladys, to enter his office.
He would need his entire legal, operations and human re-
sources teams to work up the protocols for declaring The World
Federation bankrupt, for dealing with the legal actions sure to
follow, most likely in the Beijing courts, and for severing em-
ployees, closing down activities—turning off the lights.
***
Paul Latimer and his father, Edgar, surveyed with satisfac-
tion the security arrangements for their survival colony. The
colony was remote, situated deep in the Brazilian rainforest. No
roads led to it. Access was only by air or on foot through hun-
dreds of miles of jungle in every direction. The colony could
repel a significant air invasion and a modest land invasion. Se-
curity was more than sufficient they concluded.

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They had successfully accomplished the scaling up of the
colony. Mostly, those who received invitations to live at the
colony were now at the colony, adapting to life "off the grid.”
Energy, water, food, housing and medical facilities were all
complete and self-sustaining. Waste recycling, including human
waste, received a high priority.
The last air shipment was complete. The pilot and crew
were among the chosen to remain. After they emptied plane and
stripped it of anything of possible later use, they took it apart
and the parts in the jungle in ten different locations. Each burial
crew was unknown to the other. Like the crew of the Bounty,
when they committed to living out their lives on Pitcairn Island,
the members of this modern day survival colony also "burned
their ship.”
By the middle of 2050, the Latimer survival colony drew
up the "drawbridge.” Besides the destruction of the last aircraft
in, communication was almost completely severed with the out-
side world. Almost, but not completely. A one-way-only receiv-
ing channel would remain operational to ensure access to in-
formation that might affect the continued of the survival colony.
There would be no transmissions from the colony for fear of
revealing its location.
The leadership realized that things change and after some
time it might be safe to reconnect with other pockets of survival
around Earth. Should that time ever come, the colony could al-
ways launch a land party to the coast and take, when there,
whatever steps they deem appropriate.
In addition, the founders of the colony, Paul and Edgar La-
timer, felt it was essential to understand how humanity had
come to this apocalyptic end.

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***
There were many times in history when the human death
toll seemed staggering. Roughly seventy thousand years ago, a
huge eruption in what is now Sumatra caused an almost decade
long volcanic global winter and produced a near human extinc-
tion event. Mongol conquests under the leadership of Genghis
Khan are believed to have killed about sixty million people.
During the European invasion of the Americas roughly one
hundred million indigenous people died, mostly from exposure
to European diseases for which they had no established immu-
nity. Over a four hundred year period, the black plague killed an
estimated one hundred million people. The Spanish flu in a pe-
riod of less than two years, from early 1918 to late 1919, killed
about fifty million people while infecting almost one third of
the entire world population. From 1917 to about 1953, the hu-
man death toll as a result of the Communist revolution is esti-
mated to be about fifty million people. From about 1958 to
1961, because of centralized planning that emphasized industri-
al growth over food production, over forty million Chinese died
of starvation during the period known as "the great leap for-
ward.” The death toll from the First World War is estimated to
be about sixty million people, while that for the Second World
War is believed to be over eighty million people.
The Latimers realized there was ample precedent for mas-
sive human death tolls. However, except for the Sumatra erup-
tion, nothing again came close to a human extinction event ex-
cept for now. Edgar and Paul Latimer knew climate change,
with the consequent catastrophic environmental collapse, had
that potential. Strategic planners within The Network predicted
a decade ago that worldwide survival communities would pre-

352


serve a human presence on Earth of just under two billion peo-
ple. But they projected about three quarters of the humans on
Earth will perish, and untold numbers of animals, because of
global warming.
The Google Corporation compiled the greatest cache of
human knowledge and history during their decades-long
project. They captured almost the sum of all human knowledge
accessible from the Internet and stored it in huge data storage
facilities worldwide. By the beginning of 2030, advances in
quantum computing reduced the size of data storage devices
used by Google from football field size buildings to room size.
Small enough for The Network to obtain duplicates, for a price.
It was comparable to the map of the human genome, but it was
the map of human civilization.
"All these data,” Paul Latimer said to his father, "surely
will have lessons for us even in our little world here. What to
avoid? What to embrace?”
No future problem experienced by the colony would suffer
from a lack of information. To this end, the colony possessed
one of the most advanced computer facilities on Earth. Inter-
preting and learning from the data already at hand would be the
challenge rather than a lack of data. To help interpret and use
the data, the chosen population of the colony included eminent
historians, economists, sociologists, psychiatrists, a broad range
of hard scientists, agriculturists, meteorologists, mathemati-
cians, and a dazzling collection of writers and visual and per-
forming artists. Religious and secular philosophers as well as
political scientists also came. The community leadership would
examine every point of view to uncover the lessons from what
was essentially a human, self-created near extinction event.

353


***
The first order of business was to choose a name for the
colony. Since they knew other survival colonies had been and
were still being formed, they would need a name to distinguish
their colony from the others. A retired schoolteacher suggested
"Tranquility.”
She said she had seen videos as a child of the first moon
landing and she never forgot the words of the American astro-
naut, Neil Armstrong, as his spacecraft touched down on the
surface of the moon. She quoted it to the colony leadership.
"The Eagle has landed,” Neil Armstrong said, followed imme-
diately by "Tranquility base here!” The moment the vehicle
touched the surface of the moon, it was no longer a space ship.
It had become the first human base on an extraterrestrial body.
Tranquility base.
The community adopted the name by unanimous consent.
The colony was henceforth Tranquility.
Next, the permanent governing structure of the colony
needed formulation. The Latimers and a small, select group
were functioning as the temporary leadership of Tranquility, but
the colony needed a permanent and widely agreed upon govern-
ing paradigm. To that end, it was decided by a gathering of the
entire Tranquility population that the Latimers would act as
temporary "ringmasters” keeping everything in motion and ad-
vising when progress encountered roadblocks. Paul Latimer
quickly recommended establishing three committees charged
with basic policing, facility maintenance, and food require-
ments for Tranquility.
The members of Tranquility agreed to establish a commit-
tee of fifty, chosen by lottery, to devise a constitution for the

354


colony. The Latimers recommended that agreed upon guiding
principles should inform its governance. Paul could think of no
model that suited the unique status of Tranquility. In size it was
more like a bloated club than a small country. And yet it had the
same needs—a social contract—for creating and enforcing rules
of behavior. Was Tranquility small enough for direct democra-
cy? Or something else? What kind of leadership should the
colony adopt and what would limit their powers? How would
they choose judges? What about the responsibilities of the citi-
zens of Tranquility? A thousand and one questions needed an-
swering by the community.
Paul and his father purposely stayed off this committee of
fifty.
Finally, Tranquility needed to devise a fresh economy. It
would have to be simple and closed. The consumer economy
would be impossible to maintain with the colony!s fixed re-
sources. Capitalism was out of the question since there was no
capital. A starting point some people proposed was to study the
experience of Israeli kibbutzim. For some kibbutzim there was
only very limited trade with the world beyond the kibbutz
walls. They elected to study and harvest suitable ideas from
these economies that suited Tranquility. It seemed like a good
starting point to the members of the Economy committee.
Paul and Edgar Latimer, standing together in silence in the
main square, marveled at the harmony so far displayed by the
good people of Tranquility.
"Dad,” Paul began after a few moments of quiet medita-
tion, "I could really use a good drink right now. Or a smoke. Or
…” They both laughed. There were no provisions in the colony

355


plan for the unproductive use of space, soil, chemicals or water.
In that respect, it would be an austere life for the colonists.
The humor, however, quickly faded and they both once
again lapsed into silent meditation. Finally, Edgar broke the si-
lence.
"The nightmare is only just starting, isn!t it, Paul? I know
we always talked in terms of #by the end of the century,!$but that
all was just a delusion. What I saw before making my final trip
to Tranquility was bodies piling up everywhere.” Edgar Latimer
reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two cigars. "I
brought a good supply from home. We can enjoy them while
they last.” He handed one to his son, who cautiously took it.
Edgar laughed and said, "rank has its privileges.”
"Let!s take a walk into the jungle,” Paul said. "I don!t want
to annoy or taunt people with the smell of this fine cigar.”
The forest was redolent with the musky atmosphere of liv-
ing things—dense and humid and filled with potential. One
could hear the distant sounds of animals, accustomed already to
giving Tranquility a wide berth. At any time of the day the floor
of the forest was veiled in a deep green shadow while splashes
of yellow light flickered across the foliage and the ground, dart-
ing in time to the shivering of the leaves and branches of the
canopy and the traverse of the sun.
While they designed Tranquility to mimic the feel of the
people!s recently abandoned former lives, the jungle stealthily
lured Paul and Edgar Latimer back to another world abandoned
countless millennia ago. Ironically, the further the two men
walked into the forest—among the shadows, the sounds, the
flashes of light and the smells—the more at peace they felt.

356


There was a surprising sense of safety as the father and son
confirmed how easily they entered the jungle world from Tran-
quility, from the center, while how unlikely it was, by intent,
that strangers could penetrate Tranquility by the jungle from its
edges.
In the history of humanity, the open emptiness of the desert
seemed conducive to a religious inclination with its vast, fea-
tureless and unobstructed horizons. But here in the jungle, the
endless rainforest awakened unfamiliar emotions in these two
men, emotions from a distant and dormant primordial past. It
was in their DNA. It was a return to Mother.
The two men went on silently, without fear of getting lost.
Their wristbands contained the GPS coordinates for Tranquility
and could direct them back from anywhere within the radius of
a one day walk. The Latimers ensured that the forest would be a
friend to Tranquility as well as a protective shield.
"One gets accustomed to the dead,” Edgar said. Paul did
not respond. He let his father!s words drift into the forest, hard-
ly noticed. Still, the mention of death provided the link to an
unconscious connection, enough to remind Paul of his wife and
son still in America. He failed to understand their decision not
to come with him to Tranquility. Perhaps they would be okay,
he thought, now that the US military had taken charge of "con-
vincing” Canada of the weakness of its bargaining position.
Paul estimated that expanded farming in southern Canada
might save a hundred million Americans from starvation.
Maybe more. Which left two hundred million Americans con-
demned to starvation.
"Paul?” his father said, noticing his faraway look, and
blocking his forward path.

357


"Yes?”
"I said, #one gets used to the dead.!$Don!t you think so? You
certainly have seen plenty of the dead and dying on your travels
for The Network.”
"I!m sorry. I must have drifted off.”
"Any place good?” his father asked, smiling.
"Not really. Just got caught for a moment in the enormity
of what!s happening.” He brushed his cigar tip against the near-
est tree trunk and put the stub in his shirt pocket.
"It probably would have been better to keep smoking,”
Edgar said. "Keeps the bugs away … well, at least somewhat.”
Paul removed his cigar from his pocket and relit it.
"I don!t think you!re right,” Paul said. "I don!t think you
ever get used to the dead. Not this time.”

358


22

It was early spring of 2051, and the young stalks of new

grass rising amid the dried and brittle remains from the previ-
ous fall replenished the fallow fields. Birds again were filling
the air with their songs, and all the villagers advanced their
preparations for the next plantings. From the distance came the
spirited barking of a group of dogs, perhaps disturbed by the
scent of a forest bear awakening from his winter hibernation.
James Marshall and Wu Renshou rested on their shovels,
the day!s work almost complete. They finished turning the soil
for a small garden near a newly constructed cottage, built by the
two men. They made the cottage walls of logs readily obtained
from trees in the forest less than a kilometer away. There was a
small window to the left of the door. The door was solid and
heavily built for protection when shut from the elements and
wild beasts. There was an opening in the door, just above the
latch, through which one could activate a locking mechanism if
the cottage was to be left vacant for more than a day or two.
They made the roof of thatch constructed from a sturdy
wild straw mixed with dried cow manure and eggs that solidi-
fied to a kind of cement. They learned this from indigenous
Siberian peasants who also used the same material for the walls
of many of their smaller structures. There was active bartering
between the Russian and Chinese communities, and they often
exchanged helpful information besides the usual commodities.
Inside the cottage was a single spacious room. Just to the
right as one entered the cottage was a large brick oven. Being
essentially a cube about three meters on a side, it easily domi-
nated the room. On the side of the oven facing the left as one
359


entered were small "pockets” for placing wet or cold clothes,
shoes or gloves so using the oven to warm and dry them. Above
these pockets was a large opening for baking multiple loaves of
bread, or less often for cooking large pieces of meat from wild
game. On the side of the oven facing the door of the cottage
was a stove for everyday cooking chores. Above the oven was a
space of about a meter and a half from the ceiling where guests
or children could sleep.
Near the left wall of the cottage one could lift a section of
the wooden floor, revealing steps leading to a deep underground
storage room. With the dirt floor of this food storage room three
meters down from the cottage floor, the temperature of the
room was cold all year and served as the refrigerator for the
family.
Along the entire front wall, which had the only window,
was a bench. Guests could use this bench to sit since there was
no other furniture for sitting besides the four chairs accompany-
ing the simple table located more or less in the center of the
room. In the far left rear of the cottage was the bed. In the rear
wall, right of center there was a door connecting to an attached
shed for tools and kitchen utensils and in the rear of the shed
was another door connecting to a barn attached to the shed. The
interior of the barn was sectioned to hold two cows, several
pigs and chickens.
The inside of the cottage was this day richly decorated
with red pennants and lanterns. Neighbors would later bring
more tables and chairs for temporary use for the celebration.
About thirty meters from the house was another small, de-
tached shed, this one containing tools used for beekeeping.

360


There were a half dozen hives located a short distance from the
shed.
James and Renshou looked around for a final inventory of
tasks they had completed. They would leave the selection of
plantings for Jonas and Jiao to decide for the small garden they
just finished preparing. The large flower box under the window
was already alive with early blooming bulbs, yellow and blue
irises and crocuses. The cottage was brightly decorated on the
outside with colorful festoons made by neighboring village
children.
Satisfied that they had completed all their tasks, James and
Renshou turned and strolled back to Renshou!s house.
***
James Marshall and Wu Renshou paced nervously outside
the door to Renshou!s cottage. For ten thousand years children
had been born under similar conditions. And mostly, things
went well or humans would long ago have perished as a
species. Faith, history and experience supported the notion of
calm and patience while waiting for a birth. However, for anx-
ious fathers these were not altogether comforting notions.
The mothers, Sylvia Marshall and Wu Huifang, were in-
side the Wu cottage attending to matters as mothers of expec-
tant parents have done, also for ten thousand years. Prospects
were no different in this Chinese village in Xiboliya, [Siberia]
than they would have been in their ancestral village in northern
China.
While the women tended to Jiao, Jonas more or less fended
for himself beside his wife, holding her hand and squeezing it
tightly with every contraction, while elsewhere in the village
bells rang and cymbals sounded to scare away evil spirits. From

361


the doors and windows of nearby neighbors, red pennants cov-
ered with small prayer poems extolling life flapped in the
breeze. Each flutter of each pennant was as if the prayer had
been expressed aloud.
Jonas and Jiao, now each nineteen years old, had been
married for one year. The farm community that moved to Xi-
boliya, during six challenging years, had set its roots firmly in
the fertile farmland. Global warming, in a perverse irony, be-
cause of the steadily warming conditions had made this Siber-
ian land ever more productive. Over time, the village prospered
while the region of northern China abandoned by Renshou and
his family and friends had finally and utterly collapsed. The
lack of water and the higher temperature together condemned
the region. The grain seeds failed to set in the heat and drought.
Anyone who did not escape to the north faced inevitable starva-
tion.
The new community, named Xin Changzhi or New
Changzhi, had flourished to a population of close to six thou-
sand. They connected with many other scattered Chinese com-
munities that had moved to Xiboliya, and there was now a live-
ly trade between them. James Marshall estimated that perhaps
two hundred million Chinese were now living in Xiboliya.
James and Renshou gave a sudden start and looked at each
other as a long and piercing cry escaped from within the cot-
tage. While Renshou was a man of the earth and more familiar
with the natural processes of life, still Jiao was a delicate flower
of a girl, a woman only because of her womanly condition and
not possessed of the rugged heartiness of her mother. Huifang
had expressed to her husband early in Jiao!s pregnancy her own
fears for the ordeal their daughter would face. They did not

362


share their anxious concerns with Sylvia and James, nor, espe-
cially, with Jonas. They kept their fears to themselves.
Jiao showed unusually large during the latter months of her
pregnancy. Many of the village neighbors and friends, particu-
larly the younger ones, close to Jonas and Jiao in age, laughed
and joked that they must be having triplets. Jiao laughed with
them. Jonas found it best and safest to follow whatever mood
Jiao was displaying. Her temperament was somewhat volatile in
these latter weeks of her pregnancy.
Jonas!s parents were not very helpful in preparing him for
how the birth process would play out. Formerly living the life
of wealthy officials of a global enterprise, their experiences
were far different from those who lived more in harmony with
nature. Until Sylvia and James joined Xin Changzhi to remain
with their son, their life experiences and those of the average
Chinese peasant hardly overlapped at all. They lived a life vast-
ly more accommodating and thus much less familiar with the
simple and unpretentious ways of living close to the land. Uncle
Renshou, with the permission of James and Sylvia, was the one
to fill Jonas in on what to expect when the time came for the
baby to be born.
As a first-time father, he proved almost of no help at all
except for the steady stream of encouragements he directed to
Jiao during hard moments of contraction. In between, he filled
the time with endless kisses to Jiao!s hand that he never let go
of as he stood beside her. Sylvia wiped Jiao!s forehead and
dripped water from a wet cloth into Jiao!s mouth, while Huifang
would from time to time check the progress of the delivery.

363


Finally, with a look of concern, Huifang uncovered Jiao!s
abdomen and began aggressively pressing her daughter!s
swollen belly, trying to understand the position of the child.
The birth was taking too long, and Jiao was getting weaker
and weaker. Sylvia gave a worried look to Huifang who wore
an unreadable expression of focused attention. In six years at
Xin Changzhi Sylvia!s Mandarin had improved greatly, but it
was not up to questioning Huifang at this moment. She wanted
to ask Jonas to ask his mother-in-law what she thought was the
problem, or even if there was a problem. The flaw in this plan,
Sylvia understood, was that Jonas, as intermediary, would also
receive any distressing news through this exchange. Sylvia
hoped to shelter Jonas.
Finally, Sylvia made up her mind. "Jonas,” she said, "ask
Huifang if there is a problem. It seems to me this is going on
too long.”
There was a quick exchange of words and Jonas told his
mother that Huifang believed the baby was stuck in the breach
position.
"What does she think we should do?” Sylvia asked.
Again a quick exchange and Jonas reported. "Mom, she
says she must turn the baby.” He paused to catch his breath, "or
things will not go so well.”
An anguished "Mama,” escaped from Jiao as she listened
to the muted exchange between Jonas and her mother. Jonas
quickly leaned down and began kissing Jiao!s face, whispering
that he loved her. Not to worry. They would solve the problem.
All the while covering her face with kisses.
Sylvia grabbed Jonas!s arm. "Can we do it?” she asked
Huifang desperately in Mandarin.
364


Huifang looked at her daughter and then at Jonas. "We try
our best,” she answered. But after saying this she whispered
something in Sylvia!s ear, whereupon Sylvia turned white and
began to tremble. Huifang grabbed her by the shoulders and
shook her hard, looking fixedly into Sylvia!s eyes until Sylvia
could regain control of herself. Sylvia left Jiao!s bedside and
moved to the stove. She set a pot of water to a boil and placed
an army pocketknife lying on the counter into the water to ster-
ilize it.
Meanwhile, Huifang went about trying to rotate the baby.
Pressing firmly on opposite sides of Jiao!s belly, Huifang began
trying to rotate the baby clockwise. Over and over, with strong
and knowledgeable hands Huifang slowly induced the baby to
small, incremental rotations. To the surprise of all the Marshall
family, this did not seem to discomfort Jiao much. In fact, to
their delight and amazement, Jiao seemed to experience some
relief. She turned and smiled at Jonas, weakly, but still a smile.
She turned her head again and looked at Sylvia and flashed her
the same smile of relief that something, anything, was finally
happening. Sylvia, smiling back, leaned over and taking Jiao!s
hand kissed it lightly. Jiao squeezed Sylvia!s hand, whereupon
Sylvia burst into tears and turned away.
After several minutes, Huifang announced that she had
managed to position the baby perfectly, head down and first.
"Thank god,” Sylvia exclaimed loudly as she hugged Huifang.
She hurled at Huifang a stream of what she hoped were Man-
darin words of praise, admiration and joy, but was surprised by
the continued look of focused attention on Huifang!s face.
Several minutes later, Huifang checked the progress, and
she called Jonas to her side. The baby!s head was clearly
365


crowning, and she wanted Jonas to observe his baby!s birth. At
Jiao!s next contraction, Huifang yelled at her, "Tui!” Push! Over
and over during the contraction they all yelled encouragement
to Jiao, who bore down with whatever strength remained in her.
By the time the contraction ended, the baby!s head was out.
Huifang cradled the head and gently rotated it about a quarter
turn. Huifang told Jonas to get a blanket and a bucket. He hur-
ried to where they had placed these during an earlier rehearsal.
By the next contraction, the baby!s shoulders were out.
With the final contraction accompanied by cries of triumph
from everyone, including Jiao, the baby delivered completely.
But to Sylvia!s horror, the baby was entirely blue and not cry-
ing. Huifang cradled the helpless little thing in her hands ob-
serving the newborn closely. "Mama?” Jiao cried, fearing the
worst when she heard no crying from the baby. Sylvia, too,
cried out, "Huifang?” But Huifang was not listening to either of
the women.
First she held him (for it was a boy) by his feet to drain
any fluids in his throat so they might spill out. Still the baby
was not breathing. The room was absolutely silent as all eyes
were on Huifang. Slowly she cradled the baby and began to flex
him in a kind of artificial respiration, raising his head and legs
together then lowering them, then repeating this over and over.
All at once there was a gasp from the child, followed by a
lusty chorus of screaming cries. The little one was evidently
unhappy with his new quarters and was being very clear about
his displeasure. Everyone in the room erupted in laughs and
cheers. Within seconds the baby began turning a healthy pink as
his blood became oxygenated. There being enough slack in the
umbilical cord, Huifang placed the baby on Jiao!s belly.
366


Huifang instructed Sylvia to get the knife, and the sterilized
string that they prepared in advance. Sylvia quickly ran to do as
Huifang instructed.
Soon, another contraction began, this time to deliver the
placenta. Its size shocked Jonas and Sylvia. It seemed almost as
big as the baby. Huifang twisted the placenta as it emerged, fi-
nally grasping the whole organ in her hands, pulling it com-
pletely from Jiao!s body. She briefly inspected it and then
placed it between Jiao!s legs.
Huifang milked the umbilical cord to get every bit of the
healthy mother!s blood into the baby. Sylvia, when instructed,
gave the sterilized string to Huifang, who then bound the umbil-
ical cord in two places near the baby!s belly. After she did this,
Huifang asked Sylvia for the sterilized pocketknife.
Huifang looked at Jonas and gestured to him to take the
knife. Jonas first bent to give a smiling, but exhausted Jiao a
kiss. Jiao lifted her head trying to see her baby resting on her
belly. Jonas turned to his mother and asked her to drip some
water into Jiao!s mouth. He waited until Jiao was a bit refreshed
and then looked at the baby boy. Huifang turned to Sylvia and
gestured for her to hold the baby. He was a beautiful child and
seemed to blend the best features of both his parents!$races.
While Sylvia carefully held her newborn grandson above
Jiao!s belly, Huifang wiped the blood off the little boy. Finally,
she gestured to Jonas to proceed. With Sylvia cradling the baby
in her hands, Jonas quickly and neatly cut the umbilical cord
between the two ties and the baby was free. All raised another
cheer. Huifang disposed of the placenta into the bucket Jonas
had brought next to her. She then covered Jiao to make her pre-
sentable to the new grandfathers anxiously waiting outside. Af-
367


ter wrapping the baby, Huifang placed him once again on Jiao!s
belly.
Called in by Jonas, the men, anxiously waiting outside the
cottage, quickly roused themselves. Even before they entered
the cottage, they beamed with pride and joy, aware of the
splendid news telegraphed by the baby!s cries and by the cheers
they heard from within, welcoming them to their newborn
grandson.
***
Jiao would spend the night at her mother!s house, but
would move to the new cottage the next day. After the celebra-
tion and the feast were over and the guests had all departed,
Jonas took a moonlight walk with his mother. The moon was
bright enough to cast shadows, giving everything a mysterious,
silvery, otherworldly appearance. It seemed to cap the series of
extraordinary events with an extraordinary light. They stopped
to lean against the rim of a well and to enjoy the moment filled
with peace and astonishing recollections of the day.
"Mom?” Jonas began after several moments of silence be-
tween them. "What did Jiao!s mom tell you that upset you so?”
Although several hours had passed since the birth, and
they exchanged many messages during the celebration and
feast, Sylvia knew exactly what Jonas was referring to. She
smiled at Jonas and said, "Nothing, dear. Just girl stuff about a
messy business. That!s all. She was just reassuring me that a
little blood looks like a lot of blood and not to worry.”
"Really? That!s all it was? It looked different to me.”
"Nope, I promise. That was all it was, and a good thing too.
I wasn!t ready for the placenta. Yuck. What a mess. They never

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show or talk about that part in the old movies. Just #the baby
was delivered by the policeman.!$ Now I realize why they left
out the rest of the story.”
Jonas looked at his mother closely, but her breezy mood
and explanation seemed to end the conversation and he didn!t
mention it again.
Later, in bed, unable to sleep, Sylvia!s mind was still in a
runaway condition not quite under her control. She turned to
James.
"Darling, I told you about how magnificent Huifang was,
but I didn!t tell you everything.”
"Oh?” James said, his voice as neutral as he could make it.
He didn!t think this was going to be good. "What did you leave
out, grandma?”
Sylvia smiled broadly, enjoying her new title, but soon she
was serious again.
"When Huifang told me to sterilize the knife, she also told
me why, but only so I alone could hear.” She paused. Sylvia
began to tear up, returning to the moment in her mind. "The
baby was in the breach position. You know that. What I didn!t
tell you is what she said would have to do if she could not turn
the baby.” Sylvia!s voice trembled. "I believe she told me so I
could prepare myself for the worst. She needed me to be strong
—in case.” She stopped, unable to go on, and burst into tears.
James pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her.
"What is it, Sylvie?”
Sylvia relaxed her body in the comfort of her husband!s
arms, reminding herself they had all survived a life-changing
event. Everything turned out well and she could now remember

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the day with joy for the remainder of their lives. Comforted by
this thought, she began again.
"Jimmy, Huifang told me if she could not turn the baby we
would need to cut Jiao open to save the child. She said Jiao
would almost certainly die.” Sylvia, burst again into tears.
"Jimmy, do you understand the nightmare we avoided? Can you
imagine that scene? If we had to do that? I can!t get it out of my
head. It!s too horrible.”
James had no words of comfort. He continued to cradle his
wife in his arms.
Between sobs, Sylvia said, "Can you imagine the courage,
the strength of Huifang when she told me that? And the fear?”
She turned to look James in the eye. "I mean, who could do it?
It would have to be her. Where does such courage come from?”
***
Four days later, Jiao was still in some discomfort, but was
pleased to be resting beside Jonas in their bed in their own cot-
tage. Little Congshen, for that is what they named him, "from
god”, lay quietly at Jiao!s breast.
"If times were not as they are now, my husband, Congshen
would learn to speak English, but there is no need for English
here. Your honorable mother and father are speaking very good
Mandarin. And no one else in Xin Changzhi uses English. Do
you approve?”
Jonas did not answer, considering the question too insignif-
icant to consider at the moment. He smiled at Jiao and shifted
his view to Congshen. "My wife,” he said, "how I love saying
that, #my wife,!$and now #little mother.’” Jonas eased Jiao!s hair
from her eyes. "Look what we made. Is he not beautiful?”

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Jiao quickly corrected his Mandarin. "Not beautiful, my
husband. He is handsome, as a son of Wu and Marshall should
be. And strong, and smart, and kind, and gentle like his honor-
able father.”
She bent her head and kissed her son at her breast, turned
and kissed Jonas on the lips. "I love you so much, my husband.
Good fortune has smiled on us even while it brings suffering to
so many others. Such wonderful fortune, also, that your honor-
able parents are here with us! That our family is together and
safe, that we can raise our son together, with our family around
us. We are truly blessed.”
Incense burners were lit in two opposite corners of the cot-
tage. Huifang had taken care of this and would continue setting
the burners for the rest of the ten-day period after Congshen!s
birth to ensure by its vapors protection from evil spirits.
"I have given this much thought, Jiao. I do not believe so
many people have died because they were evil and this is their
punishment. I believe all the deaths are because there were sim-
ply too many people and Earth Mother said there must be a
reckoning. Am I using the correct word? Panduan?” He
scratched his head after observing Jiao!s puzzled expression.
"Hmm. This is not all a punishment. It is a predictable outcome
from so many people using up Mother Earth for nonsense, for
toys, for unskillful pleasures. It is a judgment, panduan, in the
sense that we did not respect Mother Earth and this is the
result.”
"I understand the duty to respect Mother Earth. What will
happen now?” Jiao asked.
"I think what will happen will be what has happened for
numberless ages. People will learn from their mistakes and then
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make new ones. It is in our nature to rebound—how shall I say
it?—to recover from tragedy. We have inside us a spirit that
makes us move forward. It is the spirit that led us, despite the
judgment of Mother Earth, to have our son. He is the symbol of
that spirit. It is called hope. #Xiwang.’”
Jiao sighed. "Our little symbol was very hungry today and
I am tired, my husband. May I take a small sleep now?”
Jonas moved gently away from Jiao and then took Cong-
shen from her. The baby gave a grunt of displeasure at being
removed from his mother!s breast, but quickly fell asleep when
Jonas placed him in the cradle his Grandfather Wu made for
him.
While Jiao!s eyes began to droop, Jonas said to her, "You
know, two years ago some Americans passed through the vil-
lage and gave me a book they thought I would like. It!s called
"Walden,” by the American writer, Henry Thoreau. It!s all about
living simply and respecting Mother Earth. His words were
very powerful during his time, and even after his death his ideas
remained very popular with the young. Like us. Like the new
world will be, I think. Simple. Respectful. And filled with hope.
Xiwang.”
Jonas covered Jiao with a light blanket. "Sweet dreams, my
love,” he said to her in English. She had already drifted into a
peaceful sleep.

372

The End

373

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

David H. Spielberg was born and raised in New York City. He re-
ceived his doctorate degree in physics in 1970 from the Graduate
Center of the City University of New York. A er gradua ng, he
worked as a research scien st in the petrochemical industry and
as a project manager in the air pollu on control industry.

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He has also been director of opera ons for a mail-order ful ll-
ment company, a contract real estate appraiser, and a branch
manager for Connec cut Na onal Bank. Dr. Spielberg was the
president of his own consul ng rm specializing in systems analy-
sis and business planning.
David Spielberg was for several years a commentator for Na on-
al Public Radio (WHQR), a columnist for the New Haven Register,
and editor/publisher of a South Florida quarterly poetry magazine.
He taught as adjunct faculty for Southern Connec cut State Uni-
versity, the University of New Haven Graduate School of Industrial
Engineering and Computer Science, and at Queens College of the
City University of New York.
David has published seven books on Amazon, four of which are
c on (On Decep on Watch, On Ves ge Way, On Good Terms
With Gaia, and My First Life), one is a collec on of his commen-
taries (O the Top of My Head), one is a journaling how-to book
for high school students (How to Learning Journal) and one is a
collec on of his poetry (Hard Times). He has also contributed nu-
merous published opinion pieces to the Palm Beach Post. He has
given invited presenta ons to the public on his rst two novels in
the The World Federa on trilogy.
Dr. Spielberg is widely traveled in the United States, Denmark,
Mexico, Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Sweden, Lithuania, Tur-
key, India and Israel. He now resides in Palm Beach Gardens, Flor-
ida, with his wife, Liudmila.

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