Arthur Clarke - Richter 10

Dred Scott, Marbury vs. Madison—remarkable precedents in jurisprudence. Modern American society had been formed in this place, then deconstructed in the large faux Greek building across the street.

Lanie put her hand over his. “Don’t worry,” she whispered as if she were in a Cosmie church. “It’s going to work out.”

“We haven’t seen Sumi for a long time.”

“I have faith in you,” she said. “You’re coming to the right place at the right time.”

Crane hoped she was correct, but was skeptical—and, he felt, appropriately cynical about politics. He would make his judgments about Sumi after they’d talked. His bad arm ached terribly. There was going to be a major quake this afternoon on the Cocos Plate where it met the Caribbean Plate. Later tonight, in Africa, the Great Rift would separate a little bit more as part of it pulled away from itself, creating grabens and opening huge fissures. There would be mudslides tomorrow in California. Evacuations of the affected areas were already underway, thanks to the Crane Report, his monthly newsletter about the state of the Earth. He gave populations a two-month lead time on any impending quake.

“Crane!” came a voice from the doorway. He turned to see Sumi Chan, in black silk pajamas, standing with arms outstretched, smiling broadly.

Crane jumped up to hurry over and give Sumi a bear hug. “You’re looking well.”

“Looks can deceive,” Sumi said, walking past Crane to greet Lanie. “Congratulations on your impending marriage. I hope I will be invited to the ceremony.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Crane said, as Sumi kissed Lanie on the cheek. “We wanted to invite you personally.”

“Right,” Sumi replied, turning back to Crane and smiling. “And maybe do a little business while you’re at it?”

“I can always do business,” Crane said, the three of them taking seats. Crane noticed a slackness to Sumi’s features. The man needed a challenge. He pulled a magazine out of his back pocket and gave it to Sumi. “Here, the new Crane Report, hot off the presses.”

“I’ve already got one. Required reading for any acting head of state. When is the big day?”

“July twenty-third,” Lanie said. “At exactly two thirty-seven in the afternoon.”

“In the Himalayas,” Crane added.

“The Himalayas.” Sumi smiled. “Your fortunes have risen since last we met, my friend.”

“As have yours.”

“No. I am simply doing what I did when you first met me, hype and PR, only I’m doing it in another place. I feel like a caretaker, just watching the office until the real Vice President shows up.”

“Then it’s true what we’ve heard about Yo-Yu?” Lanie asked.

“Probably more true than you realize,” Sumi replied. “The Syndicate scored big with new chips that I hear are better than dorph. People want Yo-Yu. Once they started their ozone regeneration project I knew Liang was finished. Yo-Yu has managed to replace five percent of the ozone layer this year alone. People like that. They vote for that.”

“Is your power completely gone?” Crane asked.

“Not completely,” Sumi said, her eyes already sharpening. “How’s Dr. Newcombe?”

“Haven’t seen much of him in person the last few months,” Crane replied. “He’s on a sabbatical, trying to fine-tune his EQ-eco to better fit soil liquefaction. We see him on the teev all the time though.”

Sumi nodded. “He’s in Washington more than I am. New Cairo is still news to people and he’s the NOI spokesman. I think his public conversion has had a lot to do with the people’s greater acceptance of the Nation of Islam.”

“He’s a geologist, not a politician,” Crane said, not troubling to hide his contempt. “He needs to spend more time on the important things.”

“Have we hit a sore spot?” Sumi asked.

“Dan’s talented.” Crane shrugged. “Wasting his talent on nonsense is incomprehensible to me … no disrespect intended to you.”

“There are those who find the notion of an Islamic State in America something other than ‘nonsense,’ ” Sumi replied. “I know the people at Liang look at it as a top priority.”

“The people at Liang can—”

“Crane,” Lame interrupted as she pointed to her wristpad.

He nodded, then smiled, surprised to find himself nervous. “Have you wondered why I haven’t tried to contact you for so long?”

“I assumed you were angry with me,” Sumi said, bowing slightly.

“Oh, Sumi, no. Think about it. Who better than I to understand how one can be pressured, tormented, ultimately coerced to do things he does not really want to do? Who better than I to understand the rationalizations that lead one to conclude the end justifies the means?” He shook his head, an expression both wise and compassionate on his face. “I have put the past behind us. Please believe me, and do not think of it again.”

Sumi and Crane looked intently at each other. They connected and there was understanding and forgiveness between them.

Crane cleared his throat. “I’ve spent the last year working on a special project, something really big. But to put it over, I need your help.”

“It pains me to admit it, Crane, but government R D money is pretty tough to come by these days. Sadly, someone in Beijing will have the final word on any funding—”

“I don’t want funding. I want permission and sanction. The Foundation’s rich. That three-billion-dollar bet, you know. Also, we started publishing the Report and the world has paid—for the Report itself, for the EQ-eco in predicted areas, for the core assessment of possible damages, and for general advice. We are prosperous beyond my dreams.”

“No funding?” Sumi asked, frowning. “But what can you want from me, if you’re off the teat? What could I possibly have to offer a man who has all the money he needs?”

Crane’s mouth was dry. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny disk. “Take a look at this,” he said, handing it to Sumi. “It will explain a lot.”

Sumi slipped the disk into her wristpad, then looked around for a screen. “May I borrow your goggles, please?”

Lanie handed Sumi the extra goggles from her tote bag, what she called her everything-Crane-needs-to-survive-on-the-road bag. Lanie took a deep, nervous breath, her eyes wide. This was it.

“Try it on the L fiber,” Crane said as Sumi pulled down the goggles and padded on.

“Once you’re through with this job, I could use a good public relations man,” Crane joked.

“Bribery, Crane?” Sumi asked with echoing humor. “This must really be important.”

“It is. But, seriously, a job is always open to you. I hope you know that.”

“The globe,” Sumi said, smiling.

“Yes,” Crane said like a loving father. “We’ve missed you at the Foundation, Sumi.” The globe was spinning quickly. If Sumi only knew, Crane thought, what had transpired with the globe during this past year! It had evolved at an astonishing rate into something beyond his wildest imaginings when he had hired Lanie all those months ago. The globe’s cognitive function was beyond reproach, but more, it was developing awareness and—He forced his attention back to the image of the spinning globe. Its spotlight found and highlighted California as the rotation slowed.

They were staring at California, the view filling their entire vision in the goggles. The world was green and brown, the oceans blue, the cities vibrating in pale, friendly yellow.

“Okay,” Crane said, “you remember where the San Andreas Bumper is?”

“Just South of Bakersfield, right? Mount Pinos.”

“Yes.”

The San Andreas Bumper was an S shaped bend in the Fault Line, a flangelike protuberance or kink where the northbound Pacific Plate and the westbound North American Plate were stuck. Inexorable movement continued, the Plates monstrous, unstoppable Titans shoving against each other, the pressure squeezing ever tighter on the Bumper, straining the rock ever harder.