David Brin - Existence

“As I said, I doubt you could make any blackmail charge stick. I’ve been careful with my wording. I have an excellent lawyer program.”

“Hm. Not as good as ours, I bet. Still, you imply that we… that Senator Strong might have reason to fear complete disclosure. Because the public might be less forgiving, upon finding out what concoction it was.”

“No flies on you,” Betsby commented.

“What?”

“Just something my gramps used to say. A compliment to an active mind. Go on Mr. Brookeman.”

Hamish frowned.

“You imply that Strong’s medical condition is one the public would despise even more than your act of slipping the senator a cryptic, behavior-altering substance.”

“Oh, I won’t get off, scot-free, if you people choose to reveal everything… or force me to. Some will call me a hero, but I could lose my medical license. Maybe get some jail time. Strong could sue me.

“But his political career would be kaput.”

Clearly, the fellow thought this a decent trade. And despite himself, Hamish felt drawn to Roger Betsby. If for nothing else, then the sheer gall and originality of his approach, and the way it had been formulated as a puzzle, as if for Hamish alone…

He ventured. “It would have to be a medical condition that’s both intrinsically repugnant and somehow voluntary. A lifestyle choice.”

Betsby nodded. “Go on.”

“And yet… something that’s relatively unknown to the public. Or, at least, under the popular vradar.”

“Gramps would’ve liked you.” A strange compliment that gave Hamish an involuntary flush… which also tipped him into realization.

“It’s an addiction, isn’t it? Senator Strong has a habit. A bad one. You… you slipped him an antidote ! Oh Lord.”

The other man nodded, with a glint in his narrow eyes. “Bingo.”

Hamish allowed himself a thin smile. Even after just a few minutes together, he already valued respect from Roger Betsby, more than the cheap, reflexive praise of critics or fans. There weren’t more than a few dozen people on this poor planet he felt that way about. At one level, this was actually fun!

But that satisfaction took poor second, right now, to another feeling. Wrath! How he wanted to get his hands around a certain senator’s neck. None of the profiles or dossiers suggested addiction. Oh, some alcoholic stupors, now and then, and maybe a little neococaine, but no word of anything with its hooks sunk deep. Whatever filthy habit Strong carried on his back, the movement was completely in the dark. Tenskwatawa would be furious!

“I don’t supposed you’ll be accommodating, Doctor, and tell me what it is? Or name the antidote you used? Or explain why it had such powerful behavioral effects?”

“Maybe another time,” Betsby said, shaking his head. “Till then, of course, I needn’t remind you that I have set up all sorts of trigger-revelation bots, all over the place, that will unleash every bit of it, should something unfortunate happen to me.”

“Of course. That goes without saying.” Hamish nodded. Though he knew there were still dark ways, desperate options.

“Very well, then,” Betsby said, standing up. “That really ought to be enough for your people to chew on, for now.”

Nevertheless, from his manner, his body language, the man revealed plenty to Hamish. Perhaps much more than he thought.

You don’t plan to keep this secret forever, no matter what we do. No matter what we offer.

You have something bigger in mind. More than just ruining the career of a legislator from one of the Tribal States.

You plan to make a point.

You want to save the world.

Hamish knew the type. The planet was, in fact, filled nearly to overflowing with sincere people, frantically bent on saving it, while disagreeing deeply over how. And, yes, his own cause-to protect Earth from its would-be saviors-might be assigned to the very same category!

He could honestly admit that irony. Even when it forced him down unpleasant paths.

“Well, Doctor, you clearly have a timetable for revealing what you know. I won’t press you to go farther today, though you can expect to hear from me soon.”

As soon as we’ve had a chance to consult, to analyze these recordings, to parse your words for hidden meanings, and every skin pore for potential weakness.

“Anyway”-Hamish cocked his head as Wriggles chimed a time alert-“it’s nearly time for that big megillah press conference from Washington and Havana about the space object. Shall we order some food and drink, and a pixelvee, so we can watch it here? Who knows? The whole planetary situation may change. So much that all our present conflicts will seem moot.”

Of course Betsby agreed to stay. Even those who are aware of celebrity power generally find it hard to resist. Hence, the sweet-and-sour irony redoubled. Hamish felt glad to share the coming historic moment with a kindred spirit, of sorts… and a twinge of guilt over fate’s cruelty.

Especially over the way it sometimes forced him to protect men he despised, by destroying somebody he liked.

“Geo-engineering” refers to one of humanity’s oldest activities-altering some trait of Planet Earth. Our ancestors-never content-strove to change their environment. Huts and hearths banished winter’s chill. Forests gave way to gardens. Irrigation made some regions bloom, then salt-poisoned them into desert. Dams shifted whole watersheds, displacing weight across seismic faults. Delving for fuel and ore, we altered mountain ranges and the air we breathed.

By one way of reckoning, we transformed several hundred cubic kilometers of fossil fuels into two cubic kilometers of human beings. Perhaps the greatest engineering feat of all. Then science let us do something else unique. With the power to notice, we began asking a question that can only be pondered by worried young gods:

“Is there anything we can do about all this? Repair the damage? Change things for the better?” No longer gradual or unintentional, geo-engineering became a matter of theory and experiment, debate and policy.

Suppose we pump huge quantities of CO 2into deep, saline layers. That might slow global warming for a while. Unless the gas blew back out? Look up the Lake Nyos Disaster. Even if it stays put, that’s where the archaea took shelter half a billion years ago, when oxygen transformed the atmosphere. How will they react to a sudden influx of CO 2, which they use to make methane and hydrogen sulfide? And if those gases emerged…?

Others propose erecting huge shades above Earth, dimming sunlight by just enough. Or by spraying stratospheric aerosols to increase reflection, cooling the planet. Some fear unintended oscillations, swinging out of control. Others remind that sulfide gas may have caused the Permian Extinction-the greatest loss of life Earth ever saw.

Even the most ecological ideas have critics. Fertilizing vast “desert” stretches of ocean would seem an obvious win-win, expanding the food chain and much-needed fisheries while sucking atmospheric carbon. Crude attempts with iron powder caused problems. But what of using tidal energy to stir ocean bottoms, exactly like natural currents?

Suppose a naturalistic solution worked! Might we think ourselves wise enough to manage a complex planet? The New Puritans say our best course is to “do less harm” in the first place. But can we only fix our messes through rigid self-denial? Is there no role for the trait that took us from the caves? The can-do spirit of ambition?

– Pandora’s Cornucopia

It was nearing nightfall when he approached the shorestead from the west, with the setting sun behind him.