Glass Sky (30 page)

Tania read the email a second time. “You asshole! You opportunistic asshole.” And if he’s figured it out, others will too. If I let South Africa log Knysna, it’ll be like pulling a stone from the dam.

“What’s going on?” mumbled Ruth.

“The South Africans have already figured out that Tamed Earth means the end of the UNBio preserves,” said Tania. “They want to cut down their trees before everyone else does.” She looked at the message tagline. It had been sent from New York. “I guess I’m coming with you tomorrow.”

ENEWS: AUG 10, 2050

THE resumption of sulfuring, and the announcement that China and the United States are going it alone on climate policy, has left the UN in turmoil. Some observers question whether the UN Climate Council is even relevant anymore given that it’s two most powerful members seem to have given up on it.

Indian President Lana Gandhi condemned the sulfuring. “Did they not learn anything from last year’s monsoon failure? How many of my people need to die? If the UN is incapable of helping us, we must protect our own interests.” She promised to take whatever means necessary, including potentially diverting water from the headwaters of the Indus, a river which India shares with Pakistan. Pakistan had no immediate comment, but they have stated on a number of occasions that any violations of the Indus Water Treaty would be unacceptable.

***

Tania and Ruth caught the hyperloop, 55 minutes from DC to Grand Central Station. They sat side by side in the front two seats of the narrow sixteen person capsule. The ride on the wave of compressed air was so smooth that it felt as if the world was flashing by while they stood still. Tania spent most of the trip trying to pin down the South African President. Mbani was in New York for trade negotiations; that much was clear. But his office was less than helpful. And Khan Tengri wasn’t answering Tania’s calls.

Why am I even bothering? It’s not like I’m long for this job. Finally she got a terse sentence from Tengri’s assistant. “Mbani takes his lunch in the delegates’ lounge.”

As they approached New York the hyperloop tube worked its way underground. After a few minutes of darkness they felt a strong deceleration as the capsule arrived in the Grand Central station unloading zone. They joined the mass of other capsules competing for docking berths, and a few minutes later they were standing under the cavernous ceilings of the old train station.

“I’ll see you this afternoon,” said Tania. “Wish me luck.”

A car lineup at the far end of the station provided instant access to the city’s vehicle grid. Tania hopped in with a dapper Asian man and the car plunged into a tunnel. They twisted and turned in the darkness. Riding the coaster, New Yorkers called it. Other vehicles flashed inches away, lit like jack-o-lanterns. Twice they traversed parts of Manhattan’s underground art program: an old subway station lit like a futuristic cave, an abandoned parking garage splashed with luminous graffiti. Tania was too distracted to enjoy it.

With a sickening lurch the car surged upwards, exploding into white daylight at the UN Security gates. Her fellow passenger nodded, speaking for the first time. “I admire what you did, Doctor Black,” he said. “Very brave. Surprised you’re still alive, to be honest. I guess the rule of law is not completely gone in this country.” He waved a diplomatic immunity card and walked out of sight past the scanners.

A few indignities later, Tania was back at the reflecting pool outside the UN Building. She reviewed her arguments in the marble corridor leading to the UN delegates’ lounge, circling twice to gather her nerve. At the White House she’d been a berserker, rage drowning fear. But this time she’d had all night to worry about how the encounter could go wrong. She checked her reflection in the lounge’s glass doorway and stepped inside, onto a tropical hardwood floor. Ugghh. Like walking on corpses. Good start.

The very tall, very black Peter Mbani was easy to spot. He was drinking a coffee in a wood-paneled corner booth, talking to two men. An open metal flask sat between them.

Tania planted herself at the end of his table.

“President Mbani, I’m Doctor Tania Black.” A dismissive sniff, which Tania ignored. “I apologize for the interruption, but I need a few minutes of your time. Can we talk about your Knysna offer?”

Mbani looked up from his drink and ran his eyes down her body, making no attempt to be subtle. “Make an appointment.” He winked at the two men, then picked up the flask and added a measure to each of their steaming coffees.

“I called your office. They misunderstood the urgency,” said Tania. “This can’t wait. Should we discuss it,” she gestured at the two men, “here?”

Mbani didn’t reply.

“Fine. I’d like you to keep the Knysna Preserve open. I refuse to put it on the bio-harvest list.”

“It’s a small preserve, Miss…”

“Black,” said Tania through gritted teeth.

“…hemmed in by people. And with Tamed Earth coming, UNBio preserves will be irrelevant. I want the farmland. As President, I get what I want.” He raised his cup, “Cheers,” and sipped. “Now go away.”

The two men at the table slapped their knees with laughter.

“Do your clowns do tricks?” asked Tania.

“What did you just say?” Mbani growled.

“Oh, good. You’re listening.” It was all she could do to keep her knees from buckling. “President Mbani, UNBio gave you money to improve farms around the preserves. And if you had finished the wildlife corridor between Knysna and Addo, which we also paid for, the Knysna preserve wouldn’t be so small. Are there obstacles to our funds reaching their targets? I could provide auditors.”

Mbani puffed up, half rising out of his chair. “Auditors?” he laughed, as if she’d suggested sending Santa Claus. “I am a Zulu, Miss Black.” He thumped his chest to emphasize the word. “Zulu! Politics are tribal in Africa. My people are bound to me by blood.” He smiled. “Whereas your President will fire you in days. Or kill you.”

“I work for the UN,” said Tania. “Not the President. If you close Knysna, I’ll kick South Africa out of the UNBio preserve program. I’ll declare your government too corrupt to work with.” She glared at him, hoping that her anger masked the bluff. The world needed South Africa’s other preserves too badly.

A waiter approached with a fresh pot of coffee. “Fuck off!” snapped Mbani. “I’ll call you when I need a refill.”

He turned to Tania. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said, his voice a venomous growl. “Kruger. Khalaghadi. You won’t risk those.” He glared, daring her to disagree, his dark eyes cunning and dangerous, watching for any flicker of reaction.

“Here’s how I see it,” said Tania, meeting his gaze with her best poker face. “Tamed Earth has created an opportunity for you to grab prime land while everyone is distracted. Knysna has old-growth trees, good rainfall. You'll hold an auction. Make it all look legitimate. But your friends will end up with the treasure.” She had enough experience to know she wasn’t far off the mark.

“How dare you accuse me like this,” shouted Mbani, pounding the table and rising to his full height. God, he’s tall. He made a meaty fist. Tania cringed, arms raised in self-defense, violent visions of Ethiopia mixing with the van in Washington, the protests in New York. Mbani narrowed his eyes. “I see somebody’s already taught you manners,” he said. His hands dropped to his side. “Sit.” He gestured to a redvelvet chair.

Tania stood just long enough to show her defiance.

“Why are you so set on this?” Mbani asked. “There’s no hope for your preserves any more. Not when the two most powerful nations on the planet have decided to remake the climate in their own image. And the world’s short on food today. Why not make Knysna into agricultural land while it’s still worth something? Before the rains stop and it all burns?” Mbani looked around to see if anyone was listening. The surrounding tables were empty, wine glasses and dinner napkins ready for the evening crowd. “I'll give you 5% of the auction price,” he whispered.

“Oooooh,” the two men looked impressed.

Tania pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. What is it with these people? “I don’t want your money, President Mbani. I want Knysna protected, until my experts declare it unsalvageable. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me. You’re a very wealthy man. Whereas I'm an idealist who has no choice but to make life miserable for the first leader that defects from the UNBio preserve program. This isn’t worth the headaches I will cause you.”

“No wonder Juarez can’t keep you on a leash.” Mbani glared at her. “You’re lucky you’re not one of my wives.”

That was something they could both agree on.

***

Ruth was waiting for Tania outside the security gates. She’d picked up a pair of trendy sunglasses, and she carried a thriftstore shopping bag. “How did it go?”

“Mbani agreed to hold off until the UN Climate Summit in October,” said Tania. “He decided it wasn’t worth battling someone who’s going to get a bullet before month’s end.”

“That’s great!” said Ruth. “A victory!”

“The profound cynicism of it all makes it hard to get enthusiastic. Mbani’s no more committed to the planet than Juarez is. No wonder we’re in such trouble.”

Ruth handed Tania the bag. “Maybe this’ll cheer you up. I bought you shorts and a T-shirt. I thought we could bike to Meaghan’s.”

“Oh, yes!” In her past life she’d have changed on the street. It’s only underwear, people. But she was too recognizable now. No sense adding indecent exposure to her list of sins. She looked around for a spot to change. “I’ll be back in a moment.” She ducked into a security scanning booth, drawing angry comments from the guards. Finally, a use for these things.

They tapped two bikes out of the rental rack and peddled through the UN sculpture gardens to the edge of Manhattan Island. The dike path, as locals now called it, had become a major attraction since its completion earlier that summer. It sat 15 feet above the surrounding land, protecting the vulnerable southern part of Manhattan from storm surges like the one that had drowned Miami, and offering spectacular views of Brooklyn and the East River. The sun shone brightly from a brilliant blue sky. Last time we’ll see this color for a while. The first sulfur flights had started that morning, an endless stream of military transports, trailing enormous plumes of white back and forth across the Atlantic. Soon gray would blanket Earth again. Sucking away the color. Extinguishing all but the brightest stars.

At Manhattan’s south tip they stopped at a plaza cantilevered out over the river. A row of cheap tourist shops and fast food restaurants lined the city side, back-dropped by the towers of the financial district. Workers were hoisting a chubby dog and cat to join the cacophonic neon parade on a nearly completed Great Burger of the People. A long lineup snaked up to a spinning UFO boasting 70 flavors of ice cream.

“Hungry?” Ruth asked

Tania hadn’t eaten ice cream in years, but if ever there were a time for an indulgence… “We’ll have to bike the island a second time just to burn off the calories,” said Tania. They locked their bikes to a crowded rack and joined the line. Tania ordered vanilla, while Ruth got a scoop of something called “Black Mamba.”

Tania spotted a mother with two softly plump children vacating a picnic table overlooking the river. “Let’s snag that before somebody else gets it.” They pushed through the vacationing tourists, drawing glances, the familiar curiosity of half-recognition. In her bike helmet and shorts Tania looked a far cry from the well-dressed professional who had outraged the White House a few days ago. Not pretty enough to be an actress. Too old to be an athlete.

She sat down, avoiding the sticky spot on the bench, facing the river.  “Tell me about Meaghan, Ruth.”

“She’s my New York lover,” said Ruth. “Sexy, but very urban. Hates any form of exercise. Well, almost any form. Last time I was here she brought home her boyfriend and we…”

“Too much information,” said Tania, covering her ears. “I’m all about being open with my friends, but you don’t have to tell me every tantalizing detail of your personal life.”

“Tantalizing?” said Ruth. She ran her tongue slowly over the melting black glob on her cone. “Maybe we could invite her boyfriend over tonight. He’s not your type, but he was nice enough. If you’re into men.”

“Really Ruth, it’s fine,” said Tania. “I’m more than capable of arranging my own boffing.”

“Suit yourself,” said Ruth. “Personally, I find it a hassle.”

A sightseeing boat drifted past, thronged with smiling tourists returning from the Statue of Liberty. A gull flapped down at the next table, snatching a fry off the plate of a young redheaded woman. She squealed in surprise, and then she and her boyfriend broke into laughter. Where is the concern? People should be in the streets, demanding action, fighting for the planet they live on. Do they even realize how precarious their future is?