by Les W Kuzyk
Chapter 8
Tamanna gazed out towards the east. The fourteenth floor window framed London’s late afternoon traffic clipping miniature along the Chiswick High Road. And there amidst the flow the Gunnersbury reserve sprouted, a tiny pre-industrial relic of tranquil English woodland. Woodland William’s site tracked nesting birds in the reserve, and now Mediterranean larks came north as ecosystems shifted. Had a climate tipping point passed? She strove for clear thought, and her deep resolve. Her lifetime commitment since Copenhagen to climate action hung again on today’s critical choice.
They needed a decision by day’s end.
Her business partner Jake entered the room and she turned from the window to sit across at the meeting table. He gave her that squint as he looked up across the top of his jPad visiscreen. This afternoon strategy review would be the last.
“Decision outcome format, then,” Jake said. “Topic discussion, opinions and options, then resolution on each issue. First…legal.”
Tamanna had spent the morning listened to legal counsel speaking through a Holo-Skype cube.
“Mind it, Jake, I can at best partially understand their legal jargon. Much of our decision will be guesswork,” Tamanna began. “Let’s see, they do have our contract classified nicely into issues pertaining to risk. So whilst we do entertain certain peril, our project locations on overseas foreign territory, god, how do they phrase it? Here, let me read…presuppose the legalities of each such nation state to have legislated determination.”
“So our involvement in contract outcome is governed by local laws,” Jakes said. “To our advantage, that sounds.”
“Yes, well, in ways,” she said. “Listen…certain articles of said contract wording remain open to interpretation by local authority…I mean, that reads totally vague,” she said. “And,” she read on, “…issues of international environmental legislation vis-à-vis the United Nations constitute no recognized jurisdiction over the stratosphere. Air space remains classified as sovereign vertically, that being directly upwards from the borders of any recognized nation state.” She looked up, pausing.
“Non-issue,” Jake said. She knew of her partner’s special interest in atmospheric geography. “That’s the same type of jurisdictional airspace agreement entered into by any airline or any business jet flown internationally.” He squinted. “That portion we take a face value.”
She looked at him, and then read on. “Reasonable assumption suggests extension to the scientifically defined top of the atmosphere precludes infringement. All stated clauses of said contract determine the airspace of interest to the client.”
“Yes, correct,” Jake grinned. “Spot on for us, Tami.”
“Right then.” She glanced at her screen. “There’s more, listen to this on conflict. National conflict of interest may be or may arise as an issue. Case in point—any forthcoming litigation may consider the UK, rightfully so they say, as a full member of the OECD. Yet on and on, okay...in contradiction to the aforementioned, any party may content that the United Kingdom remains legally an active signatory to the Kyoto Accord. That, we know.”
“Potential conflict of interest,” Jake said. “Look, we have a standard clause for that in any of our contracts.”
“Conflict then Jake.” She looked at him. “We may be escalating conflict and not that of the interest type. We may heighten the state of combat between one country and another.”
“Not for us to say.” Jake dismissed the idea.
“Lots of media chatter on the climate change factor in the Middle East now.” She looked up from her screen. “And those latest Asian conflicts.”
“Off topic.” Jake returned her look, spreading his hands wide. “Look Tami, I know you have a personal interest especially in Bangladesh. But we need stick our noses only into our business. So we function at a legal distance. We act as a third party.”
“Drones then.” She eyed him. “We will be operating in active drone land. They’re zapping political targets anywhere outside a country with a known agreement. Meaning any country below a certain wealth and power level. That, we know.”
Her American friend kept her up to date on high altitude drones—the UK and many other countries now launched missiles from on high. Selective targeting was the running term used.
“What’s legal say?”
“They state that issues may be raised on risk regarding my own personal safety and they rank the potential risk to our business integrity.” She glanced up. The business interests of their joint consulting firm were on the line. They could be classified as eco-terrorists and entered into any country’s drone target list.
“We’ve talked at length on overseas hazards, Tami.” Jake sighed. “As we agreed, the final go or no call will be yours.” As she would be in the field on this contract, he had left the final decision up to her. Entirely, but by tomorrow. They went on with the legal jargon and all its ramifications.
“Conclusion, partner.” Jake looked at her directly. “Worth our legal risk, yes or no?”
“On legal…yes.” She nodded. “Worth the risk.”
“One down. Now let’s skim our climate status.”
They glanced over their firm’s standard infogram with ever glaring climate numbers. Carbon dioxide that caused seventy percent of anthropogenic warming continued rising along the Keeling curve. Methane and nitrous oxide had their knock on contributions. The only greenhouse gas exception was the chlorofluorocarbons, the CFCs, due to the historic Montreal Protocol. Tamanna knew Jake would need to update that. Though contributing but two percent to planetary warming, those gases had immense potential for impact on the greenhouse effect and fed Jake’s pet political wild card. A rogue industrial nation forgoes all benefits of the ozone layer, builds a CFC production plant, and unilaterally accelerates planet warming. Russia, for one, wants a warmer north. Current technology gave people control over any future ice age.
“Two CFC sites remain on the Climate Watch list in Kazakhstan,” Jake intoned. “Others in Siberia hold suspect status with very little knowledge we can access.”
“Intentional climate heating would be near insane as pushing the nuclear missile button.” She spoke softly. She had her own pet topic specific to people. “People must learn to focus on managing themselves,” she said. “Not so much planetary resources. We do need a crisis but that one would not be my fave Jake.”
After her dissertation defense, Tamanna read up on humankind, and came to understand people needed motivation to learn. History showed a crisis brought on an action response. Human nature was prone to crisis management, not to wise planning of the future. With this contract she told Jake, they had a real opportunity to craft a manageable crisis. If humanity wanted to preserve the planet on which civilization developed and to which life on Earth was adapted, paleoclimatic evidence and climate change suggested action...she’d memorized that. But motivation remained.
“Your CFC plants would be sitting duck drone targets, Jake.” She eyed him. “Think on that.”
With their air-to-surface missile striking ability, drones circling high above could destroy any plant. The newer surface patrol drones now assisted in target identification to fill in missing knowledge. Not the first time she told Jake his imagined CFC plants would make an easy target for those disagreeing with a rising temperature.
“Right,” Jake said. “Cancel any thought of mine on our business decision.” They had taken many another business risks in the past Tamanna knew. “Have we reviewed the numbers then?”
Tamanna nodded, keeping silent.
“That’s two then,” Jake said. “Other politics? Anything from our client?”
Tamanna spoke yesterday for the first time to Nishat Jabbar. As the Minister of Negotiations for the High Impact Climate Change Countries, the HICCC, she lived in the political thicket.
“The HICCC set up a Science and Research fund with a board of director scientists having no political affiliation,” Tamanna said. “So scientists make all de
cisions, at least officially.” She smiled. “So cool, Jake.”
“Minister Jabbar will be our speak-to person?” Jake said.
“Yes,” Tamanna said. “For that fund, anyone invests anonymously.”
“So we don’t know who’s paying us?”
“Precisely,” she said. “At the same time, they don’t officially accept donations, or contributions. They call the fund an investment.”
“Brilliant.”
“Any concerned citizens group can invest or any billionaire.” Tami went on. “Or any country, so now the politics. She so much as said major Asian political interests have likely made financial contribution. Remember our Chinese contract a couple years back?”
“Right.”
“Recall the conditions? All our fees paid for up front and in full,” she said. “And those extension options, so clearly defined.”
“Yes.”
“The way Nishat talks, this Science and Research fund has something similar. So we function at arm’s length from real interests but we’ll have no billing issues.”
“So we’re working for the responsible.” Jake nodded. “Or possibly Asian politicians.”
“Think on that political strategy Jake…they keep their hands off the fund—no official association. That’s the way Nishat wants to run this project. Any country, even a non-HICCC member, could have climate crisis influence in their policy.”
The HICCC strategy would trigger loud voices at any Conference of the Parties get-together, but Tamanna no longer attended COP. This African contract excited her, bringing out a new negotiating voice and so much potential.
Jake nodded.
“Nishat gives this spiel. Any country that takes on climate cooling alone will be seen as good guy or bad. By the citizens at home or in the eyes of the world. Play it safe, she says, and invest in a mutual hands-off fund.”
“Any of those wealthy OECD countries you love?” Jake asked. “The UK?”
“Netherlands or Denmark,” Tamanna said. “Both small, wealthy and high risk. Japan has a huge budget and significant interest. But in the end, who knows?”
“Our British M5,” Jake said. “Or the American CIA.”
Her American friend did not believe the CIA would fund anything without specific ability to decide on each spend. The United States was stuck in a climate change impasse for years helped in no way by its political system endlessly mired in two opposing traditional ideologies. The American climate change impact was not quite as high as China’s or India’s, but up there. Recent media covered extreme weather events, sea level rise and food prices affected by agricultural loss. All that reached out to even the least discerning general public.
“Is China an HICCC member?” Jake asked. “Or India?”
“Nishat says they have a partnership list where those two fit. Neither makes any real push to join officially.”
“Those two keep building cheap energy coal burning power plants,” Jake said. “Dumping lots of carbon. That, we know.”
“At the same time,” Tamanna said, “China leads the charge developing solar, biochar and wind technologies. Nishat talks about how they’re penetrating the global market.”
Jake glanced at the time.
“Any political player would be wise to keep eggs in more than one basket, Nishat says. That way they keep their business options open while they negotiate climate change terms politically.” Tamanna paused. “She talks about power. She says any poor country with a high climate crisis risk sends a powerful message to the rich OECD countries to cut emissions. They enable negotiating those reductions on their own terms.”
“The rich have become so by dumping more than their share,” Jake said. “That, we know.”
They were both so aware that the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development had contributed the bulk of carbon emissions. Carbon emissions over time and emissions per capita gave Asians a negotiating advantage. The UK was at the top of that cumulative over time list, having begun the industrial revolution in their backyard. An offsetting argument added in a knowledge factor. For how long had a nation been emitting carbon dioxide knowing of the climate change impact? This outlook softened the historical UK damage cost and increased the carbon responsibility of currently planned Chinese coal burning.
“So we know a bit and we don’t know a lot,” Jake said. “That’s possibly good.”
“We know one thing Jake,” Tamanna said. “Our contract includes balloon manufacture and shipping by an Asian company. Another takes care of sulphur storage facilities. All we know are shipping points and times.”
“We are near out of time Tami,” Jake folded his visiscreen. “Any final inspiration?”
“Nishat knows science.”
Tamanna had explained to hearing ears how the paleoclimatic record showed quick flips of the global climate in the past, knowing that critical information never came up when politicians talked. The climate record did not show nice smooth transitions from ice age to warm period, there was no nice-to-show on an economic graph transition to allow for comfortable politically adjustment time. That had been one of Tamanna’s reasons for dropping out of COP negotiations—the tortoise speed. Minister Jabbar had listened.
“She understands passing a climatic tipping point would easily wipe out the effects of any political action. She’s aware of the situation in each high impact country, and she’s quite savvy on the global situation.”
Climate change was accelerating faster than the worst case IPCCC scenario and there is nothing good about climate change no matter what eccentrics claimed. Even if growing seasons were extended, the droughts and floods that killed off fields of grain far more than offset any crop increase. Once the climate switch was thrown there was a solid possibility of no option to go back, economic standard analytical methods didn’t work with the physics and chemistry of climate.
“She gets the no going back scenario?” Jake slipped his jPad into his device bag.
“Yes she does,” Tamanna nodded. “We talked on that. Humanity does not have the option to globally overshoot and then go back and patch it up later.”
“She have any hopes?”
“One, yes.”
“Not COP Florence,” Jake made a face.
“No, not COP,” Tamanna said. “The HICCC scheduled direct negotiations with the OECD. The poor will petition the rich.”
“Hasn’t worked before,” Jake said. “That we know.”
The remote possibility of a negotiated OECD agreement with the HICCC still lingered, what with the latest talks. The world remained sitting on the fence awaiting specific tough decisions, but they had been for decades. Anyway, how much better had COPs worked? She remembered her naive excitement during her attendance at COP 15 in Copenhagen. All, in her juvenile mind, would be worked out through good will agreements. The first ethnically diverse American president jetted in to show leadership. The first week held a string of rock concerts and she recalls the bitter sweet excitement of those bells ringing 350 times. Then when negotiations started, she and many others faced locked doors, in fact all NGOs were locked out of the meetings. She shook her head.
“We hope for that too…but no impact on our decision today,” Jake said. “Three down, and end of discussion. We go ahead on our decision independent of any politics.”
“Yes,” Tamanna said. “Agreed.”
“That’s it then.” Jake ended the discussion with one of his forced laughs that signalled an end to business.
“How’s Anna and the children?” All children’s future motivated Tami but she kept sensitive to the pain in Jakes’ eyes, whenever they talked too far into the future. About what they knew. Jake and Anna had their two but Tamanna’s cousins in Chittagong had others, and she needed speak strong to their dire situation. She put off the thought of having her own, or she often thought not. She would first need a husband, anyway.
“Superb,” But Jake touched his cheek. “Jolie has an owie tooth. So I need be off to atte
nd on that.”
“Anna talking at all?” When Jake’s wife had her first child, even though active at the COP conferences—where they all met, she stopped talking. A shift to the classic stance of climate silence.
“She sees no point,” Jake said. “You had your moment. Anna’s taking a break in the safety of denial.”
“She’s counting on us, Jake.”
Jake picked up his jPad, looking straight at Tamanna. “Send me a note if you decide before you sleep.” She twittered her fingers in a wave as he walked out.
Folding her screen down, she remained at the table.
Her moment. All those years back at COP Copenhagen. Sitting around outside those doors, deflated, she met Jake and his then girlfriend Anna. They got on right from the start. Anna told the ice bubble story, and Jake sent her literature she read there on the sidewalk. The Volstok core became her research, leading her career path as a paleoclimatologist. Her research showed what climate modelling could not—the ancient climate record revealed. That was one of her moments, actually.
She rose, moving back to the window.
As her deep gaze immersed her being among the Gunnersbury leafy branches she could not ignore the imposing urban sprawl—her peripheral vision glimpsing flats and towers along the high road. Yet the forest green allowed her the clearest glimpse into what needed to be, merging her enchantment with the harsh contrast of the cityscape all around. Her thoughts touched bottom, and then scattered. Armed with a dose of green intuitive, she allowed her deducing, rationalizing thoughts to set in and have their say.
Her gaze ran off along the M4, that high road would take her to Heathrow, her departure point. This contract offer. An opportunity not only on career—perhaps that of a lifetime lay before her. Yet was she prepared for the land of high drone risk?
She walked back down the hallway to her office and plopped down at her desk. Her fingers drummed on that stack of reports supplied by the HICCC. What they knew. They copied back to that IPCCC Fifth Assessment Report, the AR5, and the RCP scenarios she followed since release in 2014. Projections of carbon reduction targets out to 2050 and how close they were to being met. Way off, to be succinct.
She stared into her Holo-Skype cube saver. Her eyes followed the NASA climatologist’s dancing graph, by far the simplest infogram on a changing climate. She watched the infogram dice roll, recalling his scientific voice warning of the new climate forcing load. However much people wanted to kiss the luck of their desires into those dice, modified forcings played a part in each roll. And those modified forcings were people.
She’d never been to Africa. The client through a peculiar clause wanted that she evaluate the people, the personnel—mostly engineers—hired for the field camps. Nishat sought specific traits among those employed, anomalies in the stereotypical engineering personality, pending further political negotiations. Whatever that was about.
She had to leave and wrap her mind in the mundane.
She walked out of Chiswick Tower to her bicycle racked in front. She unlocked, and slowly coasted past the adverts. Down the road she tucked in to grab a Take Away dinner, a veggie pie with jacket potatoes. The three kilometer ride to her flat would stir her appetite. Her net zero flat, with its feed in tariffs supported a reduction in the carbon impact. Yet all for what?
As she straddled her bicycle, she became motionless and took a deep breath. Her moment, that moment, then and now. This project needed happen, no question, the African initiative must begin. This contract would swing their consultancy business solidly into the international. HICCC would become a major consulting client into the future, a new entity for her and Jake.
But all that was business background. She had to go, she knew in her heart. She’d ring her mum that evening, to talk of trips abroad over the next weeks.
