An Inconsonant Truth “The global temperature is beginning to fluctuate in a manner that we are not familiar with,” Bork said

. “My Gods,” Frok exclaimed. “What does that mean?” Bam-Bam stood up. “What it means is that the weather is going to change dramatically.” Bork walked to the front of the cave and picked up a twig. “Bam-Bam is right,” he said, pointing his twig at the line graph painted on the wall. “I have taken the liberty to set up this visual demonstration. Notice that as the years go by, the line continues to fall. If this trend continues – and there is no indication that it will not – the climate will destabilize, not just here, but around the world. We are facing global cooling, gentlemen, on a scale we have never before witnessed.” “My Gods,” Frok exclaimed. “What does that mean?” Still standing, Bam-Bam spoke again. “What it means is that, if nothing is done, we will be forced to face a new age. An age… of ice.” “Some might even call it an ice age,” Bork suggested. “My Gods,” Frok exclaimed. “When will this happen?” Bam-Bam looked around the room. “The day… after tomorrow.” “Bam-Bam is right,” Bork said. “Due to the temperature decrease, the north Atlantic currents are being rerouted, bringing colder waters into the typically tropical areas. We can expect to see the early effects as soon as the day after tomorrow.” “My Gods,” Frok exclaimed. “How did this happen?” Bam-Bam answered. “Our carbon dioxide levels are too high. Due, we believe, to the fires.” Bork moved to another cave painting. Waving his twig at it, he began talking. “Bam-Bam is right. There is a correlation between these climate changes and the increase in carbon dioxide release, as indicated by this chart. Notice that as the levels increase, the temperature drops. Formed during organic decomposition, the carbon dioxide levels have increased exponentially since the discovery and refining of the fire technology. We have become too dependent on wood, and it is beginning to take its toll.” “My Gods,” Frok exclaimed. “What do we…” Frok was cut off. “Hold it. Wait, wait, wait.” It was Johnson. “Let me remind you, Bork, that correlation does not equal causation.” “I understand that, Johnson,” Bork said, intimidated, as Johnson was easily a foot taller than everyone else in the room, hairless (save for the top of his head), with a high forehead and a straighter posture. Johnson was also dressed in a dark blazer, matching slacks and sky-blue tie, making Bork, in his loincloth, feel inadequate. “I understand, but as the leaders of the Ganook, Brak, and TaTookTook tribes, we need to be on top of whatever might be causing this climate shift. These charts clearly exemplify the obvious connection our fires have to the global cooling.” “Bork, we have no reason to believe that we are responsible… for any of this. Your actions to fight what could be nothing more that a meteorological pattern we have not been around long enough as a species to properly observe and document are supported by rickety foundations,” Johnson said. “Your theory is based off of vanishingly small amounts of data, misleading charts that it is everyone’s proclivity to believe, and propaganda-esque tree-hugger movements. You stand on a soap box of lies and misinformation. Your theory, sir, is all but inconceivable, and this ‘theory’ – yes, theory, for it is nothing more – that we caused ‘global cooling’… well, it’s just completely blown out of proportion. “Skepticisim is a virtue, Bork, one that you and countless others seem to have been born without. Global cooling has become a religion – there is no evidence yet it attracts the attention of many a mindless person. Your charts do nothing but correlate two ideas, but that doesn’t mean anything. It is sad that more people don’t realize this. Bork, Bam-Bam, Frok… you are all a bunch of Neanderthals. Stupid, under-evolved Neanderthals.” There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

After what must have been three minutes, Bork tried to reply, but all that came out was a grunt. Bam-Bam and Frok also began grunting. Recognizing the futile nature of the situation, Johnson exited the cave, boarded his private jet, flew home to Cambridge, and began preparations for what, he expected, was going to be a long, long winter.