“In fact, we are an energy company. Last year we acquired TransAtomic, a start-up with a breakthrough solution for the world’s climate crisis. They have designed a nuclear fusion platform that’s portable and cost-effective. Our A.I. department is working with their employees to build a prototype.”
Manos chuckles. “Nuclear power? You mean the pipedream that was supposed to change the world a century ago?”
“Fusion will run our homes and factories at a fraction of the cost of fossil fuels. We can finally end our addiction to oil and natural gas and stop greenhouse gas emissions. We can end the War and stop the scourge of global warming.”
Manos shouts back. “As Google’s largest investor, I am telling you that this is a waste of time. Your plans are fantasy and they’ll never make you a dime. Frankly, you are out of your mind!”
Beth removes her glasses. “Enough of this! I don’t know what kind of business GoldRock engages in, but most companies today struggle to exist. We are in a global depression and stocks have declined every year since 2042. Look across the world and you’ll find a shortage of water, food and fuel. Our problems reflect the planet’s dire state—we are in the early stages of a mass extinction and our only hope is a revolutionary clean energy technology.”
Manos shakes his head. “Folks, these are the words of an out-of-touch executive. She spews liberal lies and fake data from the left. There is no evidence of a mass extinction. I see things differently—"
She points her finger. “Look at the facts. The world’s population hit 10 billion in 2050, and now it’s 9 billion sixteen years later. War and famine plague the world. During the last century, ninety percent of plant and animal species disappeared from the globe. Tell me, Manos, when did Earth last face such a set of circumstances?”
Manos remains quiet.
“It was 66 million years ago. The Cretaceous-Tertiary epoch, also known as the K/T event, wiped out three-quarters of life on Earth. In fact, we have had five mass extinctions occurring every 60 to 100 million years, and we are due for the next catastrophe. Extinction 6 is here.”
Manos rolls his eyes. “Do you know why businesses today face bankruptcy? Because false, alarmist statements like yours create unnecessary taxes and regulations. When executives focus on the bottom line, the futures of their companies are bright.”
“I’m talking about the future of the planet—”
“Human beings control the planet, and we are different from any species that came before us. You can’t compare us to the dinosaurs. We will adapt to the direst circumstances and survive under the most hostile conditions. Human innovation will never go extinct.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Are we really different? Extinction 3, the Permian event, occurred 250 million years ago and wiped out 96 percent of life on earth. The cause? A massive volcanic eruption that released carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, which in turn fueled methane-producing bacteria. It was methane that accelerated greenhouse warming and destroyed the Earth’s balanced ecosystem, triggering its third global calamity. The same sequence is happening today, but this time it’s because of human activity. Just look at this chart.”
She beams an image on the screen—a graph showing average world temperatures and atmospheric methane concentrations from 2015 to 2066. The two lines overlap, climbing higher together beginning in the mid-century. “When methane levels increase, temperatures rise. It’s the same sequence Earth knows all too well—when the climate warms too quickly, it triggers a global catastrophe.”
Manos hoots. “That is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. Where did all this methane come from? Cow farts?”
The ballroom erupts in laughter.
Beth flips to a vintage photo of Earth from 2018. “I’m glad you asked. Take a look at the North Pole as it appeared fifty years ago. What do you notice that’s different from today?”
A board member raises a hand. “There was more ice back then.”
Beth nods. “Exactly. ‘Permafrost’ used to cover thousands of miles of Arctic tundra, stretching across continents and seas. Back then, there were 1500 gigatons of methane trapped in the northern glaciers, and as the ice melted it released huge reservoirs of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere.”
Manos wags his finger at Beth. “That’s where you’re wrong. Methane is not a greenhouse gas.”
“Sorry, but you’re mistaken,” Beth replies. “Compared to carbon dioxide, methane is thirty times more powerful as a heat-trapper. Its abrupt release into the atmosphere has accelerated global warming, triggering sea-level rise and a man-made cataclysmic event.”
The room grows silent.
Beth turns to her shareholders. “I’m afraid to say that Extinction 6 is here. Global temperatures are expected to rise 2°C in the next few decades. With the excess heat, fresh water will disappear, making it harder to grow crops and sustain livestock. As a result, food supplies will dwindle, triggering famine and wars. Fewer plants mean fewer insects and birds, further destroying the world’s fragile ecosystem. The cycle of destruction is accelerating and by the of the century, most species will be gone.”
Murmurs arise across the venue.
Beth approaches the audience. “But it’s not too late…we can stop the release of methane and carbon dioxide. We can eliminate the use of fossil fuels, and it’s all possible with sustainable clean energy. Fusion power will return the planet to its balanced state.”
Manos seizes the podium. “Folks, don’t be fooled by this absurdity. Dr. Andrews has been at the helm for too long. She has made many empty promises, and her business acumen is poor. These lofty pipedreams will not restore our company to profitability but only add to future losses. As CEO of GoldRock, I have built the world’s most profitable corporation. Let me propose a more pragmatic vision for Google.”
Media cameras zoom on Manos’s face.
“Dr. Andrews does not understand how the world works. Global warming is not the issue, and our fuel supplies are adequate. The matter here is our defense. We are at war with China and Russia, enemies who have profited from our complacency and short-sightedness. China is dominating the space race, expanding their Mars colony while we sit on our hands. Russia has seized the Arctic lands and amassed a territory twice the size of America. We’ve enabled our enemies to defeat us with our own technologies.”
Applause breaks out.
He shakes his finger. “Make no mistake. Google leads the world in information technology, communications, artificial intelligence and augmented reality. Advances in health care, space travel, and defense stem from our innovations. But for too long, China and Russia have used our technology free of charge to manipulate us. That must end starting today.”
The crowd cheers as camera flashes illuminate Manos on stage.
He lifts his fist in the air. “I propose a bold vision for the future. I motion to enact a new company policy that will restore profits starting today. It will take our company back to its glory and lead America to victory in World War III.”
Manos pauses as the applause roars. Someone yells, “We need new leadership!”
He motions for silence. “My premise is simple. Knowledge will no longer be free. As controller of the world’s data, Google must change the way it markets its core assets. We cannot give away our software. Web searches should come with a price tag. We will charge for information, and our enemies will pay the most. They’ll think twice before using our technologies against us.”
He raises his arms and the audience rises to its feet. “Google will finally profit from its groundbreaking products. It’s time to rise to greatness once again.”
Applause tears through the hall.
He shouts into the microphone. “America will emerge victorious when Google flexes its muscles. Decades ago, we led the world in innovation. New industries sprang from our artificial intelligence and augmented reality technologies, and our enemies got a free ride. We cannot stand by as they threaten our existence with our own tools. I move to lift our com
pany back on its feet and drive forward. Let’s implement new measures that will make us strong. Let’s make Google great again!”
As the crowd cheers, Beth gives a hard stare to Thomas, who promptly grabs the microphone from Manos and escorts him from the platform.
“Order!” Thomas yells. “Please have a seat, Mr. Kharon. This concludes the keynote address. We will move on to the next session.”
Manos raises his hands as he leaves the stage. Applause rings out.
Thomas takes the podium and beams an infographic on the large screen. “The shareholders will now vote on three motions.”
Beth turns to the projection behind her.
Three motions? There are only two.
Thomas reads from the text. “Motion one is introduced by Board Member Manos Kharon.”
Beth turns and stares at her rival.
What are you doing?
Thomas advances the slide. “Motion one is entitled ‘Information Tariff.’ The motion will require Google to charge a fee for web search, software, and operating systems. Free distribution of information will be illegal. All Google software, including beta programs, must be priced on a sliding scale, with the enemies of America paying the highest cost.”
Beth stands. “Manos, this is dangerous. You’re threatening Google’s future.” She waves her arms in the air. “Folks, this will change our culture forever! A tax on information will cripple our economy. How will young people learn? Do not give in to the fear. This is not the way forward. Vote ‘no’ on this motion.”
Manos grins. “Let the people vote as they will.”
Beth walks towards the audience. “Colleagues, Google’s goal is to organize the world’s information and make it universally accessible. We became the largest corporation through innovation and risk taking, not with fear-mongering and deceptive business practices. Our founders, Larry Page and Sergey Brin, made our core mission to improve the lives of as many people as possible—”
“This isn’t the Google of 1999!” Manos shouts.
Beth frowns. “Mr. Kharon, your motion will provoke the enemy and intensify the War. They will retaliate with missiles and cyber viruses. The future belongs to those who transcend today’s shortcomings. We can be the agents of change. We can end the energy crisis and stop global warming. We can restore our profits and make the world a better place. Technology will lead the way. Do not change our mission!”
The room grows silent and Thomas continues. “Per policy of the Board of Directors, we will now vote on motion 1. Please use the touchscreen in front of you and select ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ You have twenty seconds to cast your choice.”
Beth’s face flushes as she sits back down. Through her smartglasses, she sends a message to Manos. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Manos replies moments later. “Something I should have done years ago.”
Whispers arise as a ten-second countdown appears on the screen. Sweat falls from Beth’s face. She scans the audience trying to make eye contact with her investors and analysts.
Don’t bring Google down.
The countdown ends.
Thomas hesitates as he reads the result. “…thank you for voting. The results are final—151 yes votes, 48 no votes. Motion 1, Information Tariff, is approved per policy of the Board of Directors.”
The crowd applauds, chanting “GoldRock! GoldRock!”
Manos stands and turns to the crowd. “It’s time to be a great company again. Let’s get to work!”
Beth wipes the sweat from her face, staring into the flooded streets of Manhattan.
Is this the end?
3.
AUSTIN RUSHES to his 10 a.m. A.I. department team meeting. Leaving the train station, he heads for the Google campus and crosses the employee parking lot, rushing past the executive helicopters. He cuts across empty stalls with idle electric car chargers, relics of an earlier era.
As he walks, he looks through the Vision smartglasses and clicks on a Mail icon. His inbox opens in his field of view. The device adjusts to his focus point, allowing him to read and see his surroundings at the same time. Ten new messages appear and one memo gets his attention. “Notice to Vacate.”
He clicks on it and the email opens. “Mr. Sanders, your apartment lease ends August 31 and you must leave your unit by the end of the month. A renewal is not possible at this time. We are glad to inform you that a condominium is available on the thirty-sixth floor. Please come to the leasing office for details and a tour of the unit.”
This is ridiculous. I am always moving to a higher floor.
Deleting the note, he enters the campus and jumps over a vandalized “Google” signboard, walking across a garden where robotic honeybees pollinate a sunflower test bed. He badges into the A.I. building and makes his way to the second-floor conference room, stopping to catch his breath.
He finds a single employee in the room. “Where is everyone?”
Anil Anaya, a junior programmer, looks up. “I have no idea, Dr. Sanders.”
“Late as usual,” Austin says as he takes a seat. He sends a message to his employees: “Where are you? Canceling meeting in five minutes.”
The room is quiet. Austin glances at his youngest associate. “How are you doing?”
Anil’s gaze drops. “Hanging in there.”
“You sound depressed, Anil.”
“It’s a stressful time. My wife is having a complicated pregnancy.”
“I’m sorry. It must be difficult.”
“Extremely. She has a condition called pre-eclampsia and it’s very serious. The good news is the baby is okay, so we’re hopeful.”
“Good to hear.”
Anil sighs. “The bad news is she has to be on bedrest for several months. The doctor won’t let her go back to work.”
“What does your wife do?”
“She’s at JPL.”
Austin lifts his chin. “Jet Propulsion Laboratory? Is she a rocket scientist?”
“She manages data for the Mars colonization project—communications, forecasting, things like that.”
“Maybe she can work remotely.”
“That’s what we were hoping, but her boss won’t allow it. She’ll have to take an unpaid leave.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Austin glances at the time and crosses his arms.
One more minute and I am canceling this meeting.
His shoulders relax as he remembers something. “Funny thing you mentioned Mars. On my way here, I received a strange phone call from the CIA.”
Anil’s eyes widen. “The government?”
“Yes. The Deputy Director called me about an encrypted code from space. He is asking us to crack the signal.”
“What kind of signal?”
“Apparently, China has developed a new radio communication system for its colony on Mars. The NSA hasn’t been able to decode the message. The desperate idiots want us to do their work for them.”
“I can decrypt it for you.”
Austin smiles. “I like your confidence, Anil. We need more of that around here. Have you decoded cryptograms before?”
“I haven’t, but I’ll run it through our Foxtail machine learning software.”
“Interesting idea. How will the application help you?”
Anil reaches for his backpack. “A.I. will do the work for us. I’ll program Foxtail to test every conceivable decryption key until it finds the right one.”
Austin gestures. “Good idea. How many methods will it test?”
“A decillion per second until the job is done.”
“But how will it know it found the right key?”
“It will look for a code with Chinese characters.”
Austin leans back in his chair. “Nice. A trial by force.” He folds his arms. “You know, you should design the code to recognize any human language. We might need your tool in the future.”
“That’s easy enough.”
Through his smartglasses, Austin opens his inb
ox and finds an email from Gareth Allen. “Anil, I’m forwarding the sources files from the CIA. Follow the link to the data.”
Anil takes out a laptop. “I’ll get to work right away.”
Austin laughs. “You still use one of those? Where are your smartglasses?”
“I don’t have them anymore. It’s embarrassing, but I had to sell them to pay the rent—”
Nine employees wearing blue uniforms pace into the room, quickly taking their seats and unloading their bags. They avoid eye contact as sweat drips from their faces.
Austin balls his fists. “I was about to fire all of you.”
Kwame, a senior programmer, speaks up for the group. “The trains from San Jose weren’t running this morning. We had to take a Flyship.”
“Great excuse.” Austin rolls his eyes.
“I’m being honest. We almost capsized on the Cupertino Lake. There was a waterspout offshore. Sorry we’re late…”
Austin gives a cold stare. “Let’s get on with our Project Titan update. What’s on the agenda, Kwame?”
“Last week we were discussing the ICF.”
Austin nods. “Right. The Inertial Confinement Fusion reactor. Remind the team how it works.”
“Sure. The device contains deuterium and tritium fuel. When the core is heated to one hundred million degrees, those atoms fuse and release clean energy—”
“You mean heat,” Austin interrupts. “I wouldn’t call that ‘clean energy.’”
Kwame tilts his head. “You’re right, Dr. Sanders. Our colleagues at TransAtomic have designed a brilliant next-generation reactor that converts that heat into electricity without the need for stacks or turbines. It’s the first power plant that can fit inside a closet.”
“If we can only make it work,” Austin whispers as he stares at his fingernails. He looks up. “Did you get the blueprints from them?”
Kwame points to his colleague Diego, who beams an image onto a wall. “Yes, an executive at TransAtomic sent me his drawings. We’ve designed a prototype based on their schematics.”
“Do you have the materials to build it?” Austin asks.
Extinction 6 Page 2
