Glass Sky (32 page)

“I’m not done yet,” said Tania.

Tengri glared. “Yes, you are. I’m dismissing you. There’s no way you can still be effective.”

“There’s one way,” said Tania. She raced through her plans for Pax Gaia. “If we don’t act now, there won’t be anything left to save. Pax Gaia will be a solid plan based on the best-available science. Not another toothless, watered-down compromise. And there are many groups begging for bold action. I can give them a face to rally behind.”

“You?” Tengri worried the end of his beard between two fingers, twisting it into a spiral. “What am I supposed to say to this? You’re a biospherist. What makes you think you can lead a political movement?”

“I can’t,” said Tania. “Not alone. But Bill Witty has agreed to handle publicity. Another friend is rallying environmental groups. I need you, Khan. I need your political wisdom.”

Tengri’s face was a stone mask. Seconds passed. I’m asking Tengri to risk his whole career. But without somebody on the political end – without somebody to talk to governments…

“I had hoped a political leader would emerge,” said Tengri. “But some generations are more fertile than others, I suppose. Or maybe only people like Juarez can flourish in today’s rot. You give me no choice.”

“You’ll join us?”

Tengri nodded reluctantly. “I’ll start by running this past India. Right now they’re beating the war drum over the sulfuring. But you stood up for them. They’ll remember that. Maybe we can give them a positive focus for their anger.”

“Just to be clear, my stand on sulfuring wasn’t to please India,” said Tania. “I did it because of the evidence.”

Tengri laughed. “My God! You do need my help. A politician takes credit for the sun, and blames the rain on his opponents. Speaking of which, I assume I can promise India a regular monsoon?”

“The monsoon’s part of their normal climate,” said Tania. “As such, we’ll preserve it. But both India and Pakistan use too much land to grow too little food. They’ll need to improve agriculture and start restoring natural areas. It’s going to take work.”

“How much leeway do I have?” asked Tengri. “Can I tweak Pax Gaia to get governments on side?”

“No,” said Tania. “That’s the old model. As soon as we give in to vested interests, Pax Gaia loses integrity and crumbles to dust.”

“So you not only want me to destroy my political career,” said Tengri. “You want me to tie both hands behind my back? You realize we have no chance of success?”

“Wrong. We have an exceedingly low chance of success,” said Tania. “But doesn’t that beat certain failure? Isn’t that why you gambled on me?”

JIE RECEIVED A call from Tania Black just as he was starting his morning’s work. He routed it into the VR headset, and a translucent image of her face showed up over the reference grid. On her end, she’d see a 3D model of him, matched to his facial expressions inside the goggles.

“Tania? I’m glad you are OK! We were worried about you.”

“Yeah, I didn’t make myself very popular at the White House,” agreed Tania. “I’m calling because I want you to know that I’m not giving up on Pax Gaia. In fact, I’m assembling a team to finish the plan and take it directly to the public. We can’t leave this to politicians anymore, Jie.”

Jie let go of the tile he’d been studying in the nano-tweezers. “That is very good news,” he said. “We are all upset about Tamed Earth announcement. We came here to help the whole planet. Not make new one for China and America.”

“That’s why I wanted to tell you first,” said Tania. “You’re risking your life up there. You deserve to know that we’re not giving up yet. My team’s going to take a month to polish Pax Gaia, and then we’re going to promote it any way we can. We hope to get enough support to force the UN General Assembly to adopt it at the October Climate Summit.”

“What do you want from me?” asked Jie. “I can give you an endorsement.”

Tania shook her head. “I’d love an endorsement, but that should wait until Pax Gaia is finished. I’m tired of people supporting causes they don’t understand.”

Maybe just as well. I’m really too busy finishing the shield to get involved in politics. A row of Nanoglass tiles sat near the probes, just visible through Tania’s slightly transparent head. Flawless. Beautiful. “We at 95% yield now,” said Jie. “We will connect the first of nine nanofactories to the mass driver in one month. I will come home in two. If you want, I will endorse Pax Gaia in person when I get back to Earth.”

Tania beamed. “That would be fantastic,” she said. “What are you looking forward to most when you get home?”

“Besides the Pax Gaia victory celebration?” laughed Jie. “Cheng and I are going back to Thailand. And Sally is coming too.”

“Oh, Thailand is beautiful, isn’t it?” said Tania. “The way the waves ripple across the sand. The wind in those giant trees.”

Above Jie, the plastic wall stretched over its metal struts. “I haven’t felt wind in six months.”

***

The talk of Thailand brought back memories, and after Tania disconnected, Jie felt a painful longing to be somewhere, anywhere, other than the base. The walls closed in. Everything felt constricted, artificial. A prison more than a home.

“Earthcon, can I play XB7200 immersion games on this hardware?”

“Do you want permission? Or are you checking the capabilities?”

“I’ve been working way too hard to need permission,” said Jie.

“Then the hardware will handle it,” said the controller.

Jie called a 30-minute break and connected to his gaming account. He had to wait several minutes for an offline copy of the game to upload over the slow lunar link. Then he opened the latest save. He found himself on horseback galloping over an open plain, playing Cheng’s elf, the cup clutched in his left hand. Jie felt a stab of betrayal. Cheng’s been playing without me. And what happened to my warrior? Did one of Cheng’s friends get me killed? Or did Cheng switch to solo play?

‹Open save point. The dungeon entrance.›

‹You had two characters when you played this point,› the game informed him. ‹Would you like the computer to play the elf?›

‹Sure.›

Jie appeared in his warrior, frozen amidst a tangle of grayed-out vines. Cheng’s elf stood next to him, outlined in a green halo to show that he was a computer-controlled friendly. The clearing where Dargool waited lay just minutes through the forest. Jie unpaused the game, and the world filled with color. Instead of following the path back towards Dargool, he plunged into the undergrowth.

‹Warrior,› said the computer-controlled elf. ‹We must go the other way.›

The game gravity seemed weird, even though Jie lacked a full immersion harness to complete the experience. His legs seemed to slam into the ground. Jie looked around, admiring the leaves. A wind rustled through them, its algorithmic origins clearly visible in the rolling sine waves. A butterfly flapped on a tree, but when Jie bent close he saw it was no more than a texture overlaid on a set of triangles.

‹Warrior, are you lost?› asked the elf.

Just enjoy. Keep walking.

After 50 meters he ran into a cliff, blocking his way forward. He followed it for a while before realizing that the cliff was curving and the game was herding him back towards Dargool. No. Not today. I’m just sightseeing.

‹Warrior,› the machine-controlled elf repeated. ‹We must…›

‹Delete elf,› said Jie. ‹Single player mode.› The elf froze, then blinked out of existence. There. That’s better. He sat down and tried to listen to the bird songs, but the distorted guitar sounds of the heavy metal theme music were too loud.

‹Found you!› The Count’s shrill voice was a nail on glass.

Jie leapt up, instinctively rolling for cover behind a tree. Dargool watched contemptuously from his horse, his guards arrayed closely behind him. ‹Thought you could run away from battle, did you?› he sneered.

Jie clenched his sword hilt. ‹I don’t want to fight today,› he said. ‹I’m just trying to enjoy the forest.›

‹Hand me the cup then,› said Dargool.

Jie tossed the cup and ducked back behind his tree. Dargool snatched it out of the air with a whiff of magic. ‹Bad mistake,› he said. He raised his yellow-clawed hand. With a fireball flash, the tree exploded into flame, throwing Jie to the ground. Smoldering triangular leaves rained down around him. Dargool rode off with the cup, laughing, his vile magic setting the forest ablaze. The game world’s sky grew black with smoke.

NATURE STATION PAX Gaia Coverage: Aug 28, 2050

It’s been a month since UNBio Director Tania Black shocked the world by announcing she was bypassing the UN and taking Pax Gaia directly to the public. And while nobody’s seen the final plan yet, everyone has an opinion. President Juarez calls it an irresponsible fantasy. Environmentalists call it our last chance to save Earth.

This weekend, our panel of experts gives you the real story. We’ll provide live coverage of the Pax Gaia Press Conference, and take you behind the scenes with customized regional analysis. What will Pax Gaia look like where you live? What will Pax Gaia mean for your family? And does Pax Gaia have any hope of succeeding?

Sponsored by GBOP, home of the Jie Burger. Enjoy life, to the fullest!

***

The shovel-nosed mining truck rolled backwards, stopping just short of the completed mass driver. The blazing sun poked out of a cleft between two neighboring hills, an accident of geography that filled the mass driver platform with a pool of low-angle light despite its location well below the Malipert summit. The first three electromagnets cast long shadows across the uneven ground. The rest of the barrel vanished into the shadow of a nearby ridge, reappearing only where the final guidance magnets poked into the sunshine 600 meters above.

Rajit climbed carefully onto the mining truck’s flat bed and hooked the crane’s winch cable through the Nanoglass factory’s lift point. He tugged the cable, then hopped down to safety. “Clear!”

The first Nanoglass factory! It’s here. It’s really here. At times, Jie had felt as if he’d be trapped forever, in this bleak netherworld where the sun never set, and the night never ended.

“Confirm clear.” The crane operator at Earthcon tightened the cable, and the gleaming silver Nanoglass factory swayed up off the mining truck’s bed.

“Moving the truck.” A different operator rolled the truck forward, leaving the factory penduluming above the dusty ground. Jie didn’t recognize all the voices anymore. Over the past two months increasingly sophisticated robots had been arriving from Earth, their distant operators taking over large parts of the construction. I bet there are over 100 people who work on the moon now. It’s just that most of them telecommute.

“One meter, bearing 210 degrees…” Sharon stepped back, guiding the suspended factory to the pad that had been prepared for it. “Jie. Sally. Can you stabilize it?”

Jie and Sally stepped in, dampening the factory’s movement with their gloved hands. From the outside it didn’t look like much: just a silver box the size of a small van, with ports for power lines and material supply hoses. But inside… Jie caressed the smooth metal surface. It’s beautiful.

“Jie, out of the way please,” said Sharon. “Earthcon. Sixty centimeters down.”

With a few more adjustments, Sharon guided the Nanoglass factory neatly onto the first of nine waiting pads. She walked around the perimeter, checking the alignment pins. “Position’s good, Earthcon. You can release the clamps.”

Once the crane was clear, Earthcon’s controllers jumped in, guiding the astronauts through the hookup procedure. “Jie, find the 30-centimeter flexible pipe located 4 meters in front of you.” An overlay appeared inside his helmet, highlighting the pipe on the surface ahead of him. He located it and put a hand on it. Sally did the same. “Good. Now lift the pipe and position it against the silicon input port on the Nanoglass factory.” More overlaps showed the correct alignment. He and Sally held the pipe in place, and Sharon, following instructions from a different controller, bolted it tight.

It took about an hour to hook the Nanoglass factory to its corresponding dust refinery. Then Rajit uncoiled a thick black power cable and plugged it into the wireless electrical receiver which caught the microwave power beam from the solar array.

“Jie, I think you should be the one to turn it on,” said Sharon.

Jie placed a hand on the switch. I almost don’t dare. What if it doesn’t work? He flipped the switch. “We’ll save the celebration for when the tiles come out.”

“We’ve got a connection,” said Earthcon. “Starting diagnostics.”

For five anxious minutes they waited.

“25317 of 25317 tests succeeded,” said Earthcon. “We’re ready to go!”

Jie felt an ominous sense of déjà vu. Don’t get too excited. That’s what they said about the nanolab, remember?

The mining truck’s movement lights pulsed, and it rolled to one of the dust piles that had recently started appearing. Like Earth-based refineries, the lunar refinery required finely crushed particles. But here, billions of years of meteor bombardment had already done the work. For weeks now, the remotely operated mining trucks had been screening dust out of the lunar regolith, leaving ever wider swathes of exposed rock on the surrounding hillsides.

The truck’s diamond-tipped scoop dug out a load, and it rolled away, dust dribbling. On one end of the refinery an open-mouthed hopper yawned, a hungry bird waiting for its meal. The truck dropped its cargo into the hopper. Rotating screws carried the dust into the refinery’s plasma chamber where lasers vaporized the material into a 1200-degree gas of iron, silicon, and impurities. The waste vent belched a plume of debris into the pristine valley below.

From the other side of the refinery purified materials started flowing into the Nanoglass factory. There, delicate machinery combined the raw elements, using the same recipe that Jie had struggled so long to perfect, but multiplied a million fold. Particles sprayed from the silver output port, not waste materials this time, but finished Nanoglass tiles, a mist of microscopic diamonds sparkling in the sunlight.

Jie stared in wonder at the shimmering curtains of color. In a hundred lifetimes, I would never have guessed Nanoglass could be so beautiful. “The tiles look like dragon tears,” he whispered.

“My God,” was all Sharon could say.

Jie dipped the sample analyzer into the vapor. Without an atmosphere to suspend the particles, his fingers created rippling interference patterns as tiles bounced off his gloves, colliding with their neighbors. He pushed his fingers in further, playing with the fringes of the cloud. Is this really the future of our planet? These tiny flakes? The idea of a 10-million square kilometer Nanoglass sheet seemed absurd. Like looking at DNA under a microscope and trying to see the elephant it encoded.

Without even thinking about it, Jie stepped into the spray, stretching his arms to embrace it. ‹Jie!› his controller squawked in alarm. Nanoglass tiles hissed off his helmet, like sand peppering a window in a dust storm. His arms cut swathes out of the cloud, sending waves of color raining to the ground like fallen stars.

He felt a hand grasp his, and he knew it was Sally’s. And then Sharon joined in, and even Rajit.

Music started. “Jump around,” sang his helmet. “Jump around. Jump up, jump up, and get down.” And they did. They celebrated to Sally’s turn-of-the-century rock music. They danced in a glass rainbow.

***

“We hate to shut down the party,” said Earthcon. “But safety is having a stroke. And there are a thousand engineers who can’t wait for you to hook up the rest of the system.” The music faded away and the flow of Nanoglass tiles stopped. The ground sparkled at Jie’s feet.

Under Earthcon’s direction, they hooked the Nanoglass factory’s output into the input port of the tile packer. The refinery fired up again, spewing another belch of waste material; already the impurities had stained the hillside below with a blue-green tint, glaringly out of place against the landscape’s monochromatic purity.

This is just one small corner of the moon. It’s not the same as what we’ve done to the earth. Not the same at all.

Sprayers in the tile packer laminated a fluorescent coat of molten iron over a crenulated ceramic cylinder. The astronauts’ suits glowed orange in the cooling iron’s light, as if they were standing around a campfire. Not that Jie had ever had a campfire. But he’d seen campfires, in Western movies. Sally pressed her helmet to his, and an echo of violins passed through the glass between them.

Once the metal on the mold had cooled sufficiently, a Haier Robotic Arm pressed three fingernail-sized guidance thrusters into position. The tiny devices were manufactured in the United States, and the first 100,000 had arrived two weeks ago. They provided just enough propulsion to fine-tune the payload’s flight through the shifting gravitational fields between the moon and L1. An equally small control unit with an integrated XPOS provided the brains.

The mechanical arm lifted the payload shell off its mold. It looked like a tin can, closed at the thruster end, intricately ribbed inside to provide rigidity against the 100G launch stresses. Metal triangles protruded from the shell’s open end like flower petals. The arm paused and a jet filled the can with Nanoglass tiles. Then the arm bent the triangles together, fully enclosing the payload. The shell vanished into the launcher at the mass driver’s base.

If this works, I’m only a few weeks from Earth. Hook up the other eight nanolabs, and hand off to the maintenance crew.

“The first payload is loaded,” said Earthcon. “Please move back to the safety position.”

They piled into the rover, and Sharon drove them to the top of the ridge, stopping just under the shadow line. While the individual parts of the mass driver had all been unit tested to death, this was the first end-to-end test with a real payload. For safety reasons, this launch would be at 10% power, but that would still leave the shell exiting the driver at 1000 kilometers per hour. Best to stay well back.

Jie scanned the ridge, trying to make out the mass driver in the darkness. Will we see anything?

“We’re in position,” said Sharon. “Fire when ready.”

“Copy that. The electromagnets are powering up. All systems green. We’re firing in five, four, three, two, one.”

The entire length of the mass driver seemed to leap up in a rippling sine wave of dust as the magnets fired in sequence, accelerating the payload up the hillside.

“Diǎo!” Jie exclaimed. “What just happened? Is everything OK?”

“Holy shit,” laughed Sharon. “It’s the iron particles in the regolith. The magnetic pulse lifted them right off the surface.”

Without the benefit of air to keep it suspended the dust was already falling, dropping like a curtain.

“XPOS telemetry shows the payload traveling 1030 kilometers per hour,” said Earthcon. Loud sounds of cheering came from the background.

“Can you save us some cake?” asked Sally. “Looks like we’ll get to come home soon.”

“We’ll put four slices in the freezer for you,” laughed Earthcon.

The next shot was at full power. The dust wave sprung up nearly instantaneously, much higher this time. And more dramatic. The electromagnets flung the tiny particles dozens of meters into the air, where they caught the low sunlight, creating a shimmering curtain of transient gray mist. The moon seemed to pulse under Jie’s feet.

“We have another clean launch. The payload is at lunar escape velocity, and is within 0.01% of expected trajectory. If guidance fine-tuning works correctly, it should reach the shield in six days.”

“What’s the path?” asked Rajit.

“Around Earth, back around the moon, and then to L1.”

“Incredible,” said Rajit. “The routing math is as beautiful as the machinery.”

“Seriously?” asked Jie. “Isn’t it just a brute-force computer algorithm?”

“No way!” exclaimed Rajit. “The search space of possible trajectories is way too big. Brute force algorithms take hours to find a single decent solution. And every launch is different: the sun, the earth, and the other planets are all moving relative to each other. Yet somehow the neural net pops out the answer in seconds. And it’s always right. Nobody understands how it works. We can look at the decision matrix, but it’s so complex that we have no way of analyzing it.” His voice became reverential. “It’s right up there with the machine proof of the Goldbach conjecture.”

“Can we ask computer to nudge a payload into White House?” asked Jie. “Pax Gaia could use a boost.”

But it was hard to be too upset about Tamed Earth. Not at this moment of victory. Not when they’d just sent the first load of Nanoglass tiles from the lunar surface. I’ve done my part. At least I can tell Cheng that. And Tania’s doing hers. In a few weeks, I’ll go home, and I’ll see Cheng again. And we can promote Pax Gaia together.