Грег Иган - The Year's Best Science Fiction, Volume 1

Galik takes a careful breath, keeps his voice calm and friendly. “Good question. Why haven’t we?”

She glares at him.

He holds up his hands, palms out. “I’m serious. The mineralogical data’s been on the books for twenty years, you said as much yourself. If they just wanted to strip-mine Clipperton, why didn’t they do it years ago?”

Moreno doesn’t answer for a moment.

“It’s a deep dig,” she says at last. “Maybe you went after the low-hanging fruit first. Maybe you just didn’t notice it until now.”

“Maybe they tried,” Galik suggests, “and the ISA wouldn’t give them their rubber stamp.”

“You keep saying they . Like you’re not one of them.”

“Wasn’t Nautilus went after the permit. Wasn’t Nautilus got turned down.”

“Who, then?”

“PolyCon. They went after Clarion Clipperton on five separate occasions. ISA wouldn’t budge. Heritage site, they said. Unparalleled deepwater biodiversity. Unique conservation value.”

“Bullshit. Nobody cares about that stuff anymore.”

“They’re the ISA. It’s their job to care.”

“They caved everywhere else.”

“Not here.”

“Maybe not for PolyCon. Here you are.”

“I told you: nothing’s decided.”

Moreno snorts. “Right. You dragged Sylvie hundreds of kilometers off-site so you’d have your own private base camp. You put everyone’s research on hold, and you’ve got me spending the next eight hours planting your money detectors on the seabed. You think I don’t know what that costs?”

Galik shrugs. “If you’re that sure, you could always refuse the gig. Break your contract. Take a stand on principle.”

Moreno glowers at the dashboard, where the luminous stipple of the thermocline thickens and rises about them. Cyclopterus jerks and slews as some particularly dense lens of water slaps lazily to starboard.

“They’d probably send you home then, though, right? Back to the heat waves and the water wars and that weird new fungus that’s eating everything. Although I hear some of the doomsday parties are worth checking out. Just last week one of ’em ended up burning down half of Kluane National Park.”

Moreno says nothing.

“ ’Course, if you really wanted to stand up and be counted, you could join the Gaianistas.” And in response to the look that gets him: “What? You gonna let the fuckers who killed the planet get away scot-free again ?”

“That’s rich. Coming from one of their errand boys.”

“I chose my side. What about you, hiding out here in the ocean while the world turns to shit? You going to do anything about that, or are you all sound and fury, signifying nothing?”

“There’s nothing to do,” she says, almost whispering. “It’s too late.”

“Never too late for payback. Way I understand it, that’s what the Gaianistas are all about.”

“They’re a lost cause.”

“What isn’t, these days?”

“Don’t think for a second I don’t sympathize. Of course I fucking sympathize. We’re ten years past tipping point, planet’s doomed, and you lot are making out better than ever because there’s no point in any pesky ineffective environmental regulations any more. So, yeah. Sometimes it seems like the only thing that might make life worthwhile would be to take some of you out before you all bugger off to New Zealand.”

“So?”

“So it’s no-win. Go up against the people in charge and they’ll squash you like a bug.”

“That’s the thing about revenge, though, isn’t it? We’ll go after those who’ve fucked us over even if it hurts us more than them. Just as long as it does hurt them, even a little. And the worse things get, the more we’re willing to sacrifice just to strike back.”

“Bullshit.”

“They’ve done studies. It’s a kind of a—justice instinct, I guess you’d call it. Primal. Like sex, or money. They say it worked pretty well at discouraging cheaters back when we were living in caves. Maybe not so great now, but, you know. Some people just haven’t evolved.”

“So, what? You’re saying you don’t blame them?”

“The Gaianistas? Would you blame a rabid dog for biting you?” Galik shrugs. “ ’Course, you still have to put them down. For the public welfare.”

“That’s funny. I imagine they’d say exactly the same thing about you.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Put me down? If you had the chance.”

Moreno opens her mouth. Closes it again. Cyclopterus hisses into the silence.

“I had the chance,” she says at last. “If you must know.”

“Tell me.”

After a moment she does. “Trying to catch a flight to Galveston, shuttle gig out in the Gulf. Some zero-pointer was in a hurry to make it to his private jet I guess, just him and his family and a swarm of drones. Three gens of rich entitled assholes trying to sneak through Departures, pretending not to notice all the hisses and hate stares.”

“Weird they were even on ground level. They’re usually not so exposed.”

“Someone said some kind of technical issue up on the roof, sidelined the helipad. You could tell they were really not happy to be there. Looked downright scared actually, even before—anyway, they had their drones keeping the riffraff at bay but before they even made it into the terminal this big white van pulls up and it must have been loaded with capacitors because zap .”

“EMP?”

Moreno nods. “Drones drop like birds in Beijing. And suddenly all these people dragging suitcases over the curb or hailing cabs or kissing each other goodbye—they all just turn like some kind of hive mind and suddenly Richy McRich and his nearest and dearest are the eye in the storm. It’s really quiet for a moment or two, and nobody’s saying anything, but one of the rich kids—this little snot in a Nermal T-shirt—he kind of whimpers . And then the mob just closes in and—tears them apart.”

Galik mouths a silent Fuuuccck .

“I don’t know how many were in on the plan and how many just happened to be in the neighborhood. But almost everyone joined in. They were making this sound , like the whole mob had a single voice. Like—like a wind howling down a street between skyscrapers.”

“What about airport security?”

“Oh, they showed up. Eventually. But the pulse took out local surveillance, right? And it’s not like the ’nistas were wearing ID. They did their thing and faded and by the time anyone showed up it was just a bunch of people milling around all Heavens, whatever happened here and How’d this blood get on my pants? ”

Galik doesn’t speak for a moment. “You said almost everyone. That include you?”

She shakes her head. “Actually, I tried calling 911. But the pulse, my phone was…”

“So you chose a side, too.”

“What?”

“Some of the people who wrecked the world were right there in front of you. You could have had justice.”

She gives him a hard look. “It was a lynch mob.”

“When the despots own the justice system, what else is there?”

“Your bosses know you talk like this?”

“I don’t. I’m being, what’s the word, Socratic . Since you blame my bosses for the end of the world and all, seems to me you’d want a little payback. But when you had the chance, right in front of you—no danger, no consequence—you tried to help them.”

She taps a control; something burbles to stern. “Oh, I wanted a piece of them. It’s not like the spirit didn’t move me. But it also scared me, you know? The size of that thing, the way everyone just sort of—coalesced.” She draws a breath. “And yeah, they fucking deserve it. But the damage is done, the planet’s fucked. Killing a few rich assholes isn’t going to unfuck it. I just—I guess I have better things to do with whatever time we’ve got left.