by Hal Clement
“Did I understand correctly that you were basing the prediction for the last few hours upon the passage of a warm front?”
“That is correct. I was several minutes off on the time of passage; but that is not included explicitly in the machine solutions that are recorded, and I did not occupy a machine with the detailed problem.”
“Then a front actually did pass? Why is it that there is no perceptible temperature change? I expected it to be a good deal warmer, from the amount of water vapor that was condensed at the frontal surface.”
“I can only suppose that you are working from acquaintance with a different set of conditions. The temperature change was slight, I agree—I said the front was weak. I should have given you numerical values if we had had any measuring system in common. We must remedy that situation as soon as possible, by the way. The condensation and precipitation which seems abnormal to you agreed as usual with the predictions, as did the winds.”
Rodin pondered for several moments before replying to this. “There’s a good deal I don’t understand even yet,” he finally said. “I’d better start from the beginning and learn your units. Then I might try following some of your computations manually. If that doesn’t clear me up, nothing will. Can you spare the time?”
Vickers hesitated before translating this. He hated the thought of using so much time as Rodin’s proposal would require; the months he had spent on the alien language seemed more than enough. There seemed, however, no alternative; so he transmitted the meteorologist’s request. Marn agreed, as he had expected; and what was worse, the energetic giant plunged immediately into the task, and kept at it for nearly four hours. The translation of units of distance, temperature, weight, angle, and so forth was not in itself a difficult problem; but it was complicated enormously by Vickers’ lack of scientific vocabulary. By the time Rodin had acquired a table of Heklan numerals and a series of conversion graphs, both Earthmen were in a sadly irritated frame of mind.
Vickers was more than willing to call it a day when they returned to the ship, but the meteorologist seemed to partake of the determination displayed by his Heklan fellow. He settled down with his written material, which included one of the maps made during the recent frontal passage, and began working. Vickers wanted to remain awake to hear his conclusions, and settled into a chair in the cramped library; but sheets of used paper began to litter the place, and Rodin, whenever he had to probe among them to check some previous figures, plainly considered his friend to be rather in the way. Vickers finally gave up and went to bed—a habit into which he was falling more and more deeply. The weather man labored on.
He was a red-eyed scarecrow, hunched over the little desk, as he expounded his results the next morning. His words were slow and careful; he had evidently spent a long time on Vickers’ problem after obtaining a satisfactory solution of his own.
“There is one fact that I think will help you greatly,” he said. “This planet is in an ice age—we could tell that from space. In this hemisphere, where it is now two Earth years past midsummer, the ice cap extends more than thirty degrees from the pole. In the other, the large island and continental masses possess glacial sheets scores of feet in thickness to within forty degrees of the equator; and heavy snow fields reach to less than twenty degrees south latitude in spots. On smaller islands, whose temperatures should be fairly well stabilized by the ocean, there appears to be much snow at very low latitudes.
“I suppose, though that’s outside my line, that these people developed their civilization as a result of the period of glaciation, just as the races of Earth, Thanno, and a lot of the other Federation planets seem to have. Now, however, they have the situation of a growing race cramped into the equatorial regions of a planet—admittedly a large one, but with most of its land area in the middle latitudes.
“On Earth we pushed the isotherms fifteen degrees further from the equator, and benefited greatly thereby. How about selling the same idea to the Heklans, if you really want a convincing example of what we can do for them?”
“Two questions, please,” returned Vickers. “First, what’s this about changing the Earth’s weather? I don’t recall ever having heard of such a thing. In the second place, I’m afraid we’ll have to sell the Heklans a little more than possible advantages. Our working theory, remember, is that I inadvertently got them leery of the combative and competitive elements of Federation culture. How would curbing their ice age, if you can do it, help that? Also, and most important, how does it help us to get a corner on the metal trade here before a real Federation agent steps in and opens the place up? Once that happens, every company from Regulus to Vega will have trading ships on Hekla; and we want Belt Metals to be solidly established here by that time. How about that?”
“To answer your first point, we didn’t change Earth’s weather, but its climate. There’d be no point in trying to explain the difference to you, I guess. They stepped up the CO2 content of the atmosphere, producing an increased blanketing effect. At first the equatorial regions were uncomfortably hot as a result; but when the thing stabilized again a lot of the polar caps had melted, and a lot of formerly desert land in the torrid zones, which had been canalized for the purpose, had flooded in consequence. The net result was an increased evaporation surface and, through a lot of steps a little too technical for the present discussion, a shallower temperature drop toward the poles. The general public has forgotten it, I know, but I thought it was still taught in history. Surely you heard of it sometime during your formative years.”
“Perhaps I did. However, that doesn’t answer the other question.”
“That’s your problem, at least for the details. I should say, however, that their acceptance of that proposition would entail the purchase of a lot of machinery by the Heklans. A genius like you can probably take the idea on from there.”
Vickers pursed his lips silently, and thought. There seemed to be some elements of value in Rodin’s idea; elements from which, with a little cerebration, something might be built.
“If they were to accept such a proposition, how long would it take to get the thing under way?” he asked finally.
“The general plans could be obtained directly from the records, and apparatus set up in a few months, I imagine,” was the answer. “It would depend to some extent on the nature and location of Hekla’s volcanic areas—they are the best source of carbon dioxide, I believe; they were used on Earth. I imagine the Alula would require quite a few round trips to Sol to transport enough apparatus for this planet.”
“How soon could we promise results to the Heklans? Remember, we want to establish ourselves solidly with them before competition gets too heavy. If a Federation agent gets here before any agreements are reached, trade of any sort will be frozen until the diplomats finish shaking hands. Until one does arrive, they can’t touch us legally for entering into contracts with the Heklans, though they may frown slightly at the company’s failure to report the discovery of civilization here.”
“I’m afraid it would be a couple of decades—half a year or so, here—before the change in climate would be really noticeable. However, the theory would be clear enough to people like Deg; and they would begin to notice results on their maps almost immediately.”
“How much increase in CO2, would be needed to produce a useful result? And would that much be harmful to the Heklans? I imagine we would have to show Deg some solid figures to overcome his suspicions enough even to consider the proposal.”
“I’ve done a little figuring in that direction, but I can’t give you a precise answer to the first question until I have more accurate and detailed knowledge of the present composition of Hekla’s atmosphere. You’ll have to do some investigating of your own for the second; I have no idea of the physical limitations of these people. That fellow Trangero looks rugged enough to take an awful beating from almost anything.”
“The question is not whether they can stand it, but whether it will cause them discomfort. That would be p
lenty to squash the whole idea, unless they have a collective personality appallingly different from ours. In any case, the proposition will have to be presented delicately. We shall hold more discussions with Marn or Deg or any one else who will listen to us, provided he is a meteorologist; and I think it will be possible to build up to the subject, while describing our mechanical abilities and history and so on, in such a way as to make him think it’s his own idea. The plan certainly has possibilities, Dave. We’ll eat, and you’d better sleep, and then we’ll have another session in the observatory. Sound all right?”
Rodin agreed that it sounded all right. It was just bad luck that Marn Trangero didn’t.
The conversations seemed to steer themselves in the way Vickers desired, for several hours. They ran from subject to subject, dealing with matters connected with the Federation whenever Trangero held the conversational initiative, and veering back to things Heklan when Vickers could get control. The Earthmen learned of the lives of the half billion Heklans scattered among the equatorial islands of their planet; of their commerce, their science, their arts—but nothing of their wars, except against their environment. Casual references to feats of physical strength and resistance to cold, heat, and hunger made the human beings blink, but partly reassured them of the creatures’ ability to stand slight modifications of their atmosphere.
The Heklan learned of the doings of the natives of the scores of worlds whose co-operating governments called themselves the Federation. Vickers censored carefully the more drastic references to strife, though he did try to make clear the more harmless aspects of a competitive culture. If he had known the mechanics of atomic converters and second-order drive units, Marn would probably have wormed the information from him; the creature was at least as acute a questioner as Vickers. The man was slowly realizing this fact, though he had originally believed that the giant had been chosen as their companion principally for his physical qualities. He wondered, as he strove to lead the talk to climate and the possibility of Federation science’s improving it for Hekla, whether the bulky being were not laughing silently at his attempts. It was a demoralizing suspicion, which success did nothing to allay; for the “success” came with suspicious rapidity after he set to work in earnest.
He had introduced the story Rodin had told him of the undertaking to modify the climate of their home planet; and Marn had appeared extremely interested, asking for a description of the results. Then he asked for a comparison of the normal climates of Earth and Hekla. It was this request that Vickers misconstrued as success for his efforts. With rather good salesmanship, he decided to break off the discussion at this point, pleading the usual fatigue—they had been talking for several hours. Marn, he felt, had conceived the desired idea and should grow more enthusiastic if allowed to mull it over for a few hours. Vickers had become enthusiastic himself, which was a pity.
When they next met, Vickers felt happier than ever; for Main’s first words were a request for the method the Earthmen had employed to modify their climate. He asked, politely enough not to give offense, that Vickers translate Rodin’s explanation rather than attempt to give one of his own; evidently he wanted precision. Vickers assented gladly. Rodin had found some details of the operation in Vickers’ library, and was able to add much more from his own memory; so for half an hour he and Vickers alternated relation and translation, while the absorbed Heklan listened silently, his round face showing no expression that Vickers could interpret.
“An absorbing tale,” Trangero said when the Earthmen had finished. “I applaud the ingenuity of your meteorologists and astronomers. I have seen no maps of your planet, but I gathered that much of its land area is in the middle latitudes, as is the case with Hekla. An operation such as you have described would open to us millions of square miles of land areas which at present we can use only in summer and autumn, if at all. It is a pity that it would not be effective on this planet.”
For a moment Vickers sat, stunned by the Heklan’s matter-of-fact remark.
“Why would it not work here?” he finally asked. “I have gathered that carbon dioxide is no more dangerous to you than to us; and it should be as effective a blanketing agent here. I realize the enormous thickness and extent of your ice caps, but even they would eventually yield to a general increase in temperature.”
“Undoubtedly they would,” replied Marn. “Unfortunately, your plan remains unworkable. In the first place, the atmosphere of this planet already contains approximately one and a half percent of carbon dioxide. More would not harm us, but neither would it help. You have forgotten something, which Rodin should have remembered if he knows as much of astronomy as our science requires. Our sun is much redder than yours; and an increase in the atmospheric content of any infrared opaque gas such as carbon dioxide, ozone, or water vapor would cut out nearly as much additional incident radiation as it would retain the natural heat. I admit there would be some gain, but to make it enough to be a real help would demand a radical change in our atmosphere. You are working under different conditions here than you met on your own world, and your meteorology will not help us.”
Vickers thought furiously as the Heklan fell silent. Rodin, who had not understood a word of the last conversation, realized from his friend’s expression that something had gone seriously wrong. He tapped Vickers’ shoulder to gain his attention, and asked for an explanation. It was given to him.
“Is he right, Dave?” asked Vickers, at the end. “Surely there is some modification of that trick that would work for this world. I hate to give up that idea.”
“I can’t, on the spur of the moment, think of anything that would serve,” replied Rodin, “but it seems to me that there must be some fairly simple solution. If necessary, we can call in one of the physics or chemistry boys, though I don’t like to do that. I’d advise you not to appear too perturbed about the matter—after all, this was supposed to be one of Marn’s suggestions. Just let the conversation ride on for an hour or two, and we can talk it over at dinner.”
Vickers recognized the soundness of this bit of advice, and endeavored to abide by it. He was never sure that Marn had not noticed and interpreted the symptoms of annoyance the Earthman must have shown; but the creature never gave any indication of realizing what had occurred.
The rest of the morning was spent in answering his questions about beings and events beyond the R Coronae system.
In spite of his promise, Rodin said practically nothing at dinner; and immediately after the meal he repaired to the library. Vickers followed, and occupied a seat well out of the meteorologist’s way. Silence ensued, broken only by the rustling of paper and the occasional scratch of a stylus in Rodin’s hand. Vickers neither wrote nor read; he sat and thought, while his friend worked. In his own way, he also was working.
Presently Rodin looked up. “Marn is a bright specimen, no doubt,” he said, “but he went a little too far when he implied that our knowledge of meteorology would not be helpful here. There are plenty of ways to alter climate in any direction you please, and some of them must be applicable to this planet. Of course, we want methods which will require the use of plenty of heavy machinery, so that we can sell them the equipment; but that doesn’t narrow the field much, when one is working on a world-wide scale.
“The problem works down to a reasonably simple root. With a given solar constant, there are a number of things that can happen to the incoming energy. A certain percentage is reflected, and a certain percentage absorbed. Modification of that ratio offers one means of climate control; that, in effect, is what we suggested to Marn. It may yet be possible, but the nature of R Coronae’s radiation makes it difficult.
“If you take the absorbed energy as it is, the next point is distribution. Currents in the atmosphere and hydrosphere normally take care of that business; and both of those are subject to interference and consequently to control. Ocean currents, of course, are easier to direct; and it might be worth while to examine more closely the distribution of land and wa
ter areas of this planet, with that thought in mind. Distribution by air currents is modified by the height, friction values, existing temperature, and Heaven knows what other characteristics of the land over which they flow; that’s the sad fact that makes meteorology more of a nightmare than a science, at times.
“I should say that redirection of ocean currents offered your best bet; we can try it on Marn, anyway. It will depend a lot on Hekla’s geography, but he will realize that as well as I and will be able to pass judgment. That’s the best I have to offer at the moment.”
At least, Vickers realized, there was still hope even from his point of view. The construction work that would be required by such a plan meant plenty of heavy machinery. He agreed with Rodin on the subject of working the plan into the next conversation with Marn.
The Heklan readily agreed to show Rodin something of the geography of his world, when the meteorologist put the question up to him. He left the Earthmen for a moment, and returned with a heavy book, which proved to be an atlas. Inside its front cover was a folded leaf which opened into a map, several feet square, of the planet. It was on a projection similar to Goode’s homolosine and showed the entire surface of the world; but only a few scattered areas in the arctic and antarctic regions showed anything like the detail displayed on the settled, tropical islands. The Heklans had done little exploring of their own polar caps; Marn said that such regions as the maps showed in detail were in the neighborhood of meteorological stations similar to the one on Observatory Hill.
Rodin, however, was not particularly interested in the polar caps. He examined closely the sea which extended entirely around the globe in the equatorial regions, broken only by the large islands and archipelagos on which most of Main’s race dwelt. In both the northern and southern hemispheres there lay enormous continental masses divided by relatively narrow arms of sea; and the more the meteorologist looked at these, the more confidence he felt in the practicability of diverting warm currents up those arms.
