NEW WORLD TRILOGY (Trilogy Title)

by Olsen J. Nelson

  Henry sat on one or two discussion panels a day, and, on the second day of the conference, provided two presentations about the supply and demand of synthetic oil and future possibilities for production based on emerging innovations. He outlined the opportunity to supersede current large-scale, centralised industrial production methods for creating synthetic oil compounds with applications from non-DNA-based synthetic biology that would soon, with considerable backing, be able to manufacture efficiently the desired compounds from a select range of readily available raw materials at the local level with scalable output. This approach, he argued, would provide a more robust method of increasing efficiency, stability and productivity as demand required it. He also suggested that, over the following few years, the production infrastructure and development programmes would be flexible enough so that scalable production facilities could be viable and ready for implementation, and that this development would, when in place, obviate the dependence on large foreign facilities and international distribution mechanisms. This would reduce costs substantially and strengthen the world’s capacity to meet its production targets, thus providing countries, local areas, and individual companies with autonomy, independence and substantial room for growth. Henry admitted that there was still a lot of R&D to be done in order to get to that stage, but he cogently demonstrated that it was possible if resources were pooled and the R&D programme was provided priority status by significant stakeholders. His outline of this programme seemed to be generally received well, even with a sense of excitement and anticipation; this provided him hope that his discussions over the following days would focus on the practical components of implementing this plan and gaining support from the energy community, auxiliary corporations, international organisations, governments and individual politicians. Partly due to his current status, however, after approaching the major players he wanted to enlist that afternoon and evening, most remained aloof, reticent and even dismissive…

  • • •

  Day three of the conference: 7:30 a.m.

  Henry sits at the bar of the seven-star Orient Hotel, London, the location for the conference and where most of the attendees are staying. He sips at a cup of strong, unsweetened, percolated black coffee and stares through the array of spirits lining the shelf behind the bar. He’s lost in thought, all the while trying to push back fatigue: he recalls some of the inspiring ideas he’s come across at the conference and some sound bites from his conversations with others, particularly the more disturbing ones. He focuses in on his narrowing options and begins to ruminate.

  A Middle-Eastern man sits down next to him and waits quietly for the barman to take his order. “Just a glass of water, please — no ice.”

  Henry recognises the slight accent hidden subtly within a fluent delivery and also notices the unusual but sensible request so early in the morning; he turns his head to check out who’s sitting by his side. His neighbour nods quietly and Henry returns the gesture before taking another sip of coffee.

  “Excuse me. You‘re Henry Clay, right?”

  “You got it.”

  “My name is Omar. I was in the audience at your presentations yesterday.”

  “Is that right? And what did you think of them, Omar?”

  “They were quite incisive, I have to say,” replies Omar, who watches with Henry as the barman approaches and places a glass of water gently on the bar. Omar picks it up and takes a small sip. “Actually, those I represent are of the opinion that your proposal has both substance and great potential.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Who exactly are ‘those you represent’?”

  Omar glances at Henry, then quietly examines the spirits lined up before him as though he’s about to order one. He quietly takes another sip of water. “You know, in order to come out on top sooner, you need to go deeper, but you won’t be able to do that alone. I’m sure you know just what I mean.”

  “That I do.”

  “I won’t say anything more than that … if that’s okay?”

  “I see,” replies Henry softly, staring at Omar with intrigue through the mirror behind the spirits.

  Omar slides off the stool, sips again at the water, places the nearly full glass gently back on the bar, then adds, “I’d best be going. It would be great to see you again soon.”

  Henry stares into the mirror at Omar as he heads towards the elevator. Then, in the corner of his vision, he becomes aware of a small business card sitting next to his right hand. Nonchalantly, he moves his hand over to cover it.

  He takes a few more minutes to finish his coffee before heading towards the men’s room. On his way, he skims over the writing on the card. “Maybe… We’ll see how today goes.” He slips it into his jacket pocket, opens the door and enters.

  Just before 10:30 p.m.

  Henry counts off room numbers as he walks past. He stops in front of 2923 and waits patiently for a quietly chatting couple to disappear around the corner on their way to the elevators, leaving Henry alone in the corridor. He doesn’t recognise the unobtrusive, wide-angled CCTV camera in the spyhole of the door; he looks at it innocently for a moment and considers knocking. As he raises a fist towards the door, it swings open to reveal Omar, who quietly beckons him to enter. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Clay,” he whispers as Henry approaches.

  “You could say I was curious,” replies Henry as he steps into the living room, taking note of the lavishness of the accommodation compared to his own modest but more-than-adequate suite. His attention then turns to another man dressed in a trim, pinstriped suit and standing tall by the windows. The man turns and makes eye contact with Henry, then approaches him with his right hand outstretched in a friendly and disarming manner. “Welcome, Mr. Clay. I’m glad you could make it.”

  “My pleasure. Please … call me Henry.”

  “Certainly, Henry. My name is Abdul.”

  “Well, I should probably say I’m pleased to meet you, Abdul,” Henry says as they shake hands.

  “I take it you met my assistant, Omar, this morning?” Abdul directs attention towards Omar, who is still standing by the door.

  Henry turns to look back at him. “Ah, your assistant… Yeah, apparently, I did.”

  Omar nods politely.

  “Please, take a seat.” Abdul directs Henry to the large lounge suite, which overlooks a broad view of Greater London.

  Henry sits quietly and examines the scenery for a moment. “Actually, I normally don’t have meetings with people under such circumstances.”

  “I’m sure you don’t, and I’m quite grateful for the concession on this occasion.”

  “Perhaps it’s not circumspect of me to come … but my people know where I am, even though I don’t imagine that anything untoward will occur.”

  “I understand. My intentions were only to ensure discretion, not to intimidate or— There are reasons for us to be discrete. I’m sure you can appreciate.”

  “That I can. Who or what is it that you represent?”

  “Well, I’m here as a spokesperson for an energy investment group.”

  “Called?”

  “It has no name as such. It’s more informal, if you will.”

  “I see,” says Henry flatly.

  “The point is that the members came together to seek investment opportunities that will provide them with a means to transition into the new and emerging alternative energy sector. We’ve been following the developments of your company and industry for several years now and find what you have been experiencing over the past weeks deeply regrettable. Due to this, and the fact that what you have proposed here at the conference appears to have great potential, we feel it’s opportune for us to offer our assistance. What you have planned is something we would like to help pursue to fruition any way we can … if you’ll allow us to tag along, that is.”

  “Well, my biggest problems are, obviously, political and financial. Considering recent events, it’s been demonstrated that there are forces that are able to thwart our best
efforts — not forever, but for a while yet, apparently. This is quite dangerous not just for me, my company, and the industry but also for people on the ground. The causalities from this are still coming in — both human and economic.”

  “Yes, this is most definitely the case. It’s a regrettable situation. I’m just sorry that we weren’t able to provide assistance prior to the incident.”

  “I don’t know what you could have done or how much power you people believe you have, but it’s obvious that, despite all our progress over the past decades, and all the political support that we’ve garnered in governments, the media and the general public, there are still areas we haven’t touched. I mean, a whole range of people and organisations have turned against us in recent weeks, and we have no real understanding of how to tackle it … or capability for that matter. This is why our situation is so unfortunate … pathetic, actually. We don’t even really know who we’re up against or how deep and far the connections go.”

  “Let me tell you this, Henry: although there are still a few who seek to disrupt your efforts and those of the other forward-looking companies and organisations that are represented here at the conference, their power and their politics is based on an old economy and old wealth and old power. This is the source of their problem. Those who are short-sighted or just heavily committed will continue to fight against progressive developments until it’s no longer feasible or profitable to do so, or until they get the big picture; however, there are many that have already made the shift — many more will eventually. A large number have already invested greatly in transition technologies and have done so for decades. I mean, you’re one yourself, after all.”

  “Well, that’s right… I inherited a business that was essentially no longer viable.”

  “So you changed directions and reinvented yourself.”

  “Thankfully, my father was already dead.”

  Abdul chuckles, then continues, “This is the situation with transition: if they can’t be convinced in the short-term, they need to be neutralised and bypassed one way or another. But the future will get them eventually.”

  “The future eventually gets everyone.”

  “That it does,” replies Abdul with a smile. “We’re privy to a considerable amount of quality data, and I can tell you that the clout of those who are resistant to change is diminishing rapidly, and it’s going to reach a threshold sooner rather than later; we want to bring that closer, as do you, no doubt. These really are their last days. It’s our conservative estimate that it will take around ten years for things to develop to the point where there’ll be little in their power to stop the alternative energy technologies from continuing to proliferate relatively unimpeded; however, if we fight hard and persistently, we may be able to reduce that to just five years, effectively halving the time we have to deal with the monkey-wrenching that hinders the prospects for all of us to make a substantial profit and supply the world with its energy needs.”

  “Yeah, of course, that’s the bottom line. So, what you’re telling me is that this group with no name is pragmatic and opportunistic about the future of energy and its potential to make money sooner rather than later, and that … if this helps more people than before, it’s a coincidence … or something like that?”

  “Yes, something like that. We realise that sustainable development is only achievable through innovation and change, and that this is key to the possibility of continuing to see returns on investments … so there are some redeeming aspects, if you’re interested in that kind of thing.”

  “Yeah, ‘redeeming,’” echoes Henry. “I wouldn’t expect anything more, to be honest. I mean, I can relate to that to some extent: if a billion people die, there’s a billion people you can’t sell anything to. So, superficially, we might think we’d be better off working out how to keep them alive and provide them with growing and continuing purchasing power, etcetera. But there’s a limit somewhere: there’s a point at which you’d be better off letting a billion die — thinning things out a bit — and focusing more intently on those that remain. It all depends on the capacity for development and growth within the world system and a particular time frame. You may be able to make more money by focusing on fewer people … the rest are just casualties.”

  Abdul is taken aback by Henry’s blunt elaboration. “So what are you trying to say?”

  “I’m just saying that being interested in investing in ‘sustainable development transition technologies’ doesn’t make someone a humanitarian, and that, importantly, you and I could draw the line at a very different point in the sand, which changes the size of the death toll dramatically … and so on and so forth.”

  “I see. I’m sure you’re right. Look, let’s be frank… What I think you’re getting at is that you’ll be able to garner growing and continuing support over the long-term to the extent that what you do is concordant with investment and growth interests within these dynamics you’re referring to… It does all depend, of course.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” says Henry sharply. “I just didn’t want you to think I thought you were representing something you weren’t. What I really want to know is what kind of support can be ‘garnered’ in the short-term from you, then? Because what I need is something immediate that’s grandly effective in a variety of arenas.”

  “Mm … I’m unable to tell you about the details of how our support will be provided as such; in fact, you don’t really need to know as what you’ll find is that paths will open up, and it will become obvious what you need to do. What I mean is that various opportunities will start to emerge and accelerate in your favour. You will be contacted from time to time by a representative such as myself to discuss issues and concerns, and you’ll be provided substantial financial support in areas of promise. You’ll also be introduced to politicians and organisations that can provide further assistance… That’s the playing field, as it were.”

  “So, this group with no name you represent is going to be an invisible hand that steers the ship?”

  “No, I wouldn’t put it that way. It’s more like providing clear waters for sailing.”

  Henry smiles doubtfully at the contrast. “Whether this works out for my interests and the interests of my company and the industry is another thing, though.”

  “Of course. All alliances are conditional… You’ve certainly been beaten about the head with that recently. I wouldn’t insult you by denying it.”

  Henry looks out the window and considers the seriousness of this for a moment. “I can’t give any guarantee that I’ll be supportive of the decisions that are made in such an aloof manner. I mean, the notion of support that you’re alluding to here is kind of nebulous, and could well turn ugly.”

  “Our intentions are to facilitate growth and development. To the extent that we’re both interested in that, we shouldn’t have too many problems. The best we can do is to communicate clearly and make sure we’re all on the same page as we go.”

  Henry stays silent for a moment, scanning the cityscape before him while deciding on his course. “Okay, well, we’re just going to have to wait and see. There’s a lot of work to do, and a lot of politics to get done. I’d just like to see a few things happen as soon as possible … as a kind of proof. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  “Agreed. This is essentially why we’re here — to get the ball rolling now, so to speak.” Abdul glances over at the bar. “Would you like a drink? I apologise for being so rude and neglecting to offer sooner.”

  “Certainly. Anything strong will be fine,” Henry says with apparent indifference, preferring to see what’s handed to him.

  Abdul nods at Omar, who begins walking towards the bar to prepare Henry a whiskey on ice, his favourite.

  Henry watches the process and refocuses on business. “We need to tee up some heavy-hitting meetings over the next few days to make the best use of the time we have left.”

  “Of course. I’ve already made some arrangements, actually. Tomorrow morning, we
have a meeting scheduled with the Prime Minister, and then, in the evening, there’s an informal gathering with several European and African heads of state or their representatives, as the case may be.”

  Henry smiles. “Sounds good… It’s about time. It’ll be nice to see if they’ve changed their tune.”

  “I’m pretty sure they have,” grins Abdul. He then adds reassuringly, “Things will start moving faster for everyone from here on in. I can guarantee it.”

  7:15 a.m.

  Henry again sits at the bar in the hotel’s lounge deep in thought about his two-hour-long conversation with Abdul, which meandered through a range of topics, including politics, economics, technical issues in the energy sector, and, of course, speculations about the future. He methodically takes the last sip of his coffee, places the cup back on its saucer, and heads towards the men’s room.

  Three minutes later

  He splashes water on his face, leans on the sink, and takes a good look at the lines accumulating on his face and the tiredness that’s evident from his lack of sleep not just from the previous night or the past few days at the conference but since the crisis began; his head has been filled with so much competing content that it has been hard for him to relax even when exhausted after being up working solidly for over twenty hours. He knows this can’t last forever and that, at some point soon, he may collapse and become bedridden with the flu or something worse if he doesn’t make some significant changes. I’m gonna have to take some anti-fatigue pills and … I should consult a physician.

  The quiet hum of the hand dryer continues for a moment as the only other person present passes behind him and exits. Henry splashes his face once more and wipes some water through his short, graying hair. He notices a shadow in his periphery moving swiftly towards him. Reacting immediately, he recoils and steps back; a sharp, plastic blade swings past and just misses his cheek, then impacts hard against the mirror. Henry sends his left fist racing towards the assailant’s head. The shock from the blow sends the man back against the neighbouring sink; the blade flings out of his hand as he tries to brace himself. Henry repositions his footing and then jabs hard with his right fist at his attacker’s nose. Broken and issuing sharp pain, the man grabs it tightly; blood flows rapidly around his hands and down his chin. He attempts to regain composure, humiliated by his ineffectiveness and the unexpected turn of events for a job that should have been perfunctory. Grabbing his victim’s hair, Henry pulls his bloody hand away from his nose and smashes his teeth up against the sink, then punches the side of his jaw, making it fracture with a dull crack. Henry stands back and observes the scene for a moment while his victim spits out blood and broken teeth onto the titled floor; then, despite the intensity of the pain and his unlikely prospects, he gets himself to his feet and lunges forward in a final attempt to gain the upper hand. Henry slips him into a headlock and forces him low to the floor and into submission on his knees while tightening his grip around his neck, acutely restricting his air intake. Henry leans down towards his ear and asks in a controlled yet livid tone, “Do you know who the hell I am?”