The Carbon Cross (The Carbon Series Book 2)

by Randy Dutton

“Means the carbon layer has no value to higher level predators.”

  “So, you called it. There’s no recycling.”

  His hand rubbed her knee. “Right. Unless somehow it combines with other elements to attract another life-form, the carbon’s lost forever.”

  “And the environmentalists?”

  “Don’t understand the scientific implications.”

  “That we’ll really have a carbon cross?”

  “I’ve staked my professional reputation on it. Earth’s atmosphere eventually will cross the threshold where it’ll start losing more carbon than it gains from all other sources.”

  “How long do you think the carbon levels will stay in equilibrium?”

  “Hard to say. It could be a year, or a decade, but when it starts crashing...it’ll be political hell.”

  “How so?”

  His hands were palm down, one much lower than the other. “When opposing forces equalize...” One rose and the other dropped until they were level and then they fisted. “They’ll blame each other.... Right now the power’s with the CO2 capture forces.”

  “You’re not cheering me up.”

  “Sorry, Babe.” He turned the TV back up when the broadcast continued.

  “In global financial news, the UN reports global carbon credit purchasing is uneven. Many countries attempting to sell carbon credits have few buyers. This has flooded the market with credits, dramatically dropping their price to a fifth of their value only four months ago. Some financial analysts have blamed this on the excessive issuance of carbon certificates to companies producing carbon capture technologies. One such company banking on its treasury of carbon certificates to offset its expenses is the Snath Group. With the drop in carbon credits’ value, analysts see hard times ahead for Snath’s owner, Mr. Alexis Swanson, just recently thought to be the world’s wealthiest man.

  “Thank you for tuning in. This is Jill Brent, On The Beat.”

  Anna’s eyebrows lifted and her lips curled upward. She clicked off the DVR. “With Swanson’s reversal of fortune, he’s got little time to wonder about me.”

  She rose cheerfully and put her shoes back on. “Okay, it’s back to work Pete. I’ve got soooo many plans for this house.”

  Chapter 70

  November 3, 1300

  The Oval Office

  The president sat stiffly at his desk. His fingers tapped impatiently while he eyed his chief of staff. “So what’s the Secretary General want now?” he asked brusquely.

  “More money, Sir.”

  “We’ve already raised fees on air fares, Internet use, and financial and currency transactions. Hell, they even made us impose a fat tax.”

  “People won’t eat healthier unless we force them.”

  “Don’t parrot back the vegan mantra to me. Even my family hates being told what they can’t eat.”

  “Why would your kids be upset?”

  “Have you seen the Saturday Night Live parodies?”

  “But those aren’t of your family...can’t be since we passed the laws that prohibited public ridicule of politicians and their families.”

  “They got around it with puppets. There’s no mistaking the targets.”

  “Shall we—”

  “No,” he grumbled. “Let it drop for now. I don’t want my enemies to think they’re getting to me. So else what does the Secretary General want?”

  “He’s asking for more food aid to the third world.”

  “Tell him we don’t have a surplus this year. Our output dropped 10 percent this year because of logistical issues.”

  “Europe has a similar problem.”

  “Because they followed the rules, just like us. More and more of our food is being made into biofuel, as we agreed.”

  “It’s not a problem, Sir. The Russians and Chinese said they’ll make up the difference.”

  “Only because they’re cheating on the Carbon Law and continue using petroleum-based fuels, fertilizers and biocides!”

  “They claim they’re allowed an implementation delay because of having underdeveloped economies.”

  “They always claim to be the underdog...when it suits them. Anything else?”

  “He wants America to require all national transactions be in SDRs—Special Drawing Rights—which are defined and maintained by the IMF. They also are establishing a substitution account to allow exchange of US dollars into SDRs.”

  “That’ll further devalue our currency!”

  “True. And they’ve added the Russian ruble and Chinese yuan to the basket of currencies in which the SDRs are calculated.”

  “Why?”

  “The UN sees their economies increasing while ours shrinks.”

  “That’s only because they’re flaunting the Carbon Law!” the president charged. “The UN shouldn’t reward them!”

  “Russia’s and China’s currencies are rising. They’re the new powerhouses.”

  “So much for them claiming to be underdogs!”

  Chapter 71

  December 1, 1600 hours

  Heyward House

  Crack! Another tree snapped in the December storm. Pete stood at a front window, watching trees bend from hurricane-force winds. His fingers were scratching the nose of his black Labrador, Shade, who had arrived just before Thanksgiving from his parents’ home.

  “Being surrounded by a forest maybe isn’t the best place to be in a fierce winter storm,” he said. “That one was about 200 meters away. I’m glad we cleared the tall trees away from the house.”

  Anna’s head leaned against his shoulder. “It’s surreal watching horizontal streaks trailing from the trees. The trees appear to be in motion.”

  “That’s accumulated Fuzz blowing off branches.”

  “The lights have flickered twice in the past half hour. Do you think”—Anna giggled in the twilight—“Oh well.”

  “Too late.” With the glow of the few plug-in battery lights and a hurricane lamp, he walked to the kitchen island and set down his coffee mug. “I’ll start the generator. It’s going to be a long night.”

  Minutes later the generator purred outside, powering the electrical circuits necessary for critical functions.

  “We may not have the juice for an electric stove and furnace, but as long as we have satellite TV, a refrigerator, a few lights, the well pump, and a propane grill with cook top on the back porch, we’re set.” Pete sat on the sofa.

  Shade followed and curled up at his feet.

  “Speak for yourself. I like hot showers!” She carried a dinner tray to the sofa and joined him.

  “Oh, right, and except the hot water heater.... We’ll rough it like last September. Come here my pretty.” He patted the sofa. “I’ll keep you warm.”

  “Why are you smiling...oh, I know that expression.... You’re reminiscing about me bathing in those cold mountain streams.”

  “And getting my water nymph warm again after you’ve dried off.” He pulled her closer. “You know, if the government continues eliminating fossil fuels and keeps blocking nuclear power, this may be our future.”

  “What? Inconsistent power?”

  “Uh huh. We might be allocated a limited number of hours of electricity per day just like some third world countries. Even first world countries had energy shortages when they tried to go ‘green.’ Remember when Japan and Germany shuttered their nuclear plants after the tsunami?”

  “Yeah, and tried relying on wind and solar. That certainly was a disaster...really set their economies back.”

  “Anyway, we’re conservative, so the progressive bureaucrats will probably allocate us electricity in the wee morning hours.”

  “Then you’re building me a wood-fueled bathtub. I may look like a captive being boiled in a pot by the natives, but at least I’ll have a hot bath and I’ll be clean.” She chuckled.

  He fiddled with the remote. “The environmentalists are tearing down the consistent forms of power and forcing taxpayers to pay a premium for unreliable power. It’s ironic
about wind power.”

  “What?”

  “The turbines they’ve installed along the coast can’t even handle this wind speed. Computers shut them down for protection.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He nodded grimly. “The turbines are built for a maximum wind speed of about 90 kph. They feather them out past that. Ever see videos of a wind turbine out of control?”

  Her head shook.

  He continued. “Sometimes the turbines catch on fire and other times a blade flies apart and puts the turbine out of balance. I’ve seen blades cut a tower in half... the debris covered a square kilometer.”

  “You’re easily entertained, you know that, Dear?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, maybe. We’re probably getting gusts of 130 right now, and the forecast is for this to continue all night.”

  “Whatever will we do?” She cuddled closer.

  “Watch the news of course.” Pete grinned.

  Anna grimaced and sat upright. “I guess the honeymoon’s over when my husband prefers cable news over intimacy with his five-month pregnant wife.”

  “Shhhhh, it’s starting,” Pete jested.

  She added gruffly, “Next week I’m having a big uninterruptible power supply installed...one that can run the furnace and hot water heater.”

  Her steely glare made him think maybe his joking had gone too far. He tried pulling her closer, but she slid away and stoically watched the television. She pretended to ignore him.

  “This is Jill Brent of Global Heartbeat Network. Today is December 1st, and here is the news:

  A Google Earth image zoomed to fill the screen with Alaska. “Today marks payment of the fourth installment for the sale of Alaska, a transfer of $100 billion of US Treasury notes from Russia, with a balance of $700 billion remaining. Russian ministry officials now are mostly running the Alaskan government with the originally-appointed Alaskan officials filling a minor advisory role.”

  “It’s like a garage sale of your prized assets going to bargain hunters,” Pete said in a pique.

  The image changed to moving vans heading down the Alaska-Canadian highway. “The US Department of Labor has revised its estimate of Alaskans desiring relocation downward to 208,000. Rumors are circulating of better employment opportunities than in the US, where the unemployment rate has risen to 19.6 percent. This rate reflects the continued closing of energy companies, suppliers and firms – like trucking and transportation companies – that rely upon cheap energy. The tourism industry is near total collapse as people are opting to stay home because of the high cost of fuel. In response, the Fernandez government has redefined full employment as any job with over 20 hours per week.”

  Footage of armed men rampaging through a shanty town appeared. “In Africa and southern Asia, violence has escalated as citizen armies march on neighboring regions to seize available food stocks and biomass supplies. Whole forests are being cut down to provide the fuel to feed the militia mobilizations. The UN, so far, has remained on the sidelines.

  “UN population experts say the population in Africa has started to decline from its June peak of 1.01 billion to below 1 billion this month. Officials claim this demonstrates the developing world is forming the discipline necessary to create a sustainable population. The UN attributes this negative population rate to self-control and UN-provided health services. Skeptics say the real reasons are a lifestyle change. This includes consumption of biofuel feedstock plants and seeds designed to inhibit fertility, violent local clashes to control biomass stockpiles, and illnesses caused by pesticide-doped mosquito nets.

  “In related news, leaked research from the Stephenson Institute indicates pesticide residue in young women is reducing ovulation. The report says a mosquito net pesticide synergist called piperonyl butoxide is responsible for retarding motor skills and reducing the mental abilities of newborns. Civil rights advocates claim the use of these chemicals is racist. UN health experts, in response, have increased the number of third term genetic screenings and abortions. Today, the UN arrested the Stephenson’s PR spokesperson and launched an investigation into the Institute. A UN news blackout on mosquito nets has now been imposed.

  “In energy news, the UN credits biofuel for helping the entire developing world become energy self-sufficient. Biofuel now is used to replace most transportation and cooking fuels and as precursors for many chemical products. Atmospheric scientists, who wish to remain anonymous, say an extremely high concentration of ground level ozone is caused by ethanol evaporation. One ecology specialist revealed that when more than 2 percent of ethanol is used as fuel in certain regions, such as in Seattle, that region exceeds the Environmental Protection Agency’s Ozone Attainment Levels. This same specialist said some villages now are creating biofuels with as much as 100 percent ethanol, and the smog created is adversely affecting the respiratory health throughout much of the world. It’s at its worst in sub-Saharan Africa and southern Asia.

  “The Department of Atmosphere said Fuzz concentrations are increasing rapidly in humid environments, and added its proliferation is helping to reduce global CO2 concentrations. Meanwhile, entrepreneurs are creating local Fuzz Festivals to help promote uses of this new resource.

  “We asked one of the sponsors, author Angelique La Vasquez, about her new book, 1,001 Uses for Fuzz. She told us her goal is helping communities cope with the new grayish-green resident. This how-to book shows Fuzz being made into clothes and saddle blankets, used as packing material and building insulation, mixed with mud to make cob house building material and chinking caulk for log homes, and even as garden mulch. The book continues with suggested but untried uses such as making bridles, braids, and even filament to repair fishing nets.

  “In support, the UN has created the Fuzz Foundation to research new uses and a Fuzz Fund to provide scholarships for students specializing in geo-engineering. Meanwhile, Snath Genetics has halted the sale of Fuzz Filters, and just announced the company’s closure—”

  Anna suppressed a nervous giggle. “Sven must be delighted. His creations are taking over.”

  Pete turned to her. “If he’s alive.... He was a true believer, wasn’t he?”

  “Totally. It’s no wonder the news crews can’t find him. He’s probably hiding from Swanson...like us. There’s one particular investigative news reporter out of San Francisco...Peggy Lipton, I recall, who seems to be particularly intent on finding him.”

  “How so?”

  “She blogs every week about him – rather emotionally, too.”

  “What’s her interest in him?”

  “Personal, I think. She claims he became cold and distant just before he disappeared.”

  “Sounds like a woman scorned.”

  “Maybe, but it may have more to do with his phytoplankton release. Speak of the devil....”

  They turned back to the TV when a satellite image zoomed in to show a freighter cutting through a gray mat.

  “NOAA now has added the five major Fuzz patches to its monitoring alert service,” the commentator said. “The largest patch is in the central North Pacific Ocean. Unlike the Pacific Trash Vortex, which has a higher concentration of plastic debris in the upper water column, astronauts say the Fuzz Vortexes are visible from space. Some shipping lines are reporting Fuzzbergs are forming as the wind and currents cause the fibrous matting to pile up. Ships are instructed to sail around these Fuzzbergs to protect their propulsion systems and water intakes. Marine biologists studying the effects of Fuzz found the filigree structure attracts plastic particles, causing the agglomeration of Fuzz and plastic to bind and sink, thus helping cleanse the oceans. These same biologists find Fuzz mats are being used by a variety of sea life as shelter. One such biologist quipped, We’re in a whole new Fuzzy world.

  “In climate news for November, the global weather service reports a levelized global average of 407.1 ppm of CO2, a rise of 0.2 from last month. The UN Carbon Commission said as the world shifts to biobased fuel, the carbon sequestered in biomass,
when converted to fuel and burned, will continue to release CO2 into the air. But, it added that the carbon-trapping technologies are keeping pace with the extra discharge.”

  “Thank you for tuning in. This is Jill Brent, On The Beat.”

  “Hang the news.” Pete turned off the television and put on some music.

  “Think you’re going to make up with me now?” Anna said facetiously, as he sidled next to her.

  “I’m going to try,” he started kissing her neck, his hands caressing her body.

  “It’s going to take a lot to get me in the mood again.” Resisting a smile, she held her head back and squinted.

  “I’ll keep going until I find the spot.”

  Eventually he did.

  Chapter 72

  Christmas Day

  Heyward House

  A brightly wrapped present lay on the coffee table. Sitting on the sofa, Anna was enveloped in her long velvet robe with one leg tucked underneath her. Sweetly, she purred into her husband’s ear, “Merry Christmas, Honey.”

  “Is there a secret meaning to its placement?” His eyes twinkled. While he playfully unwrapped his package, she reached into a magnolia-decorated container and removed a Tcho dark chocolate, unwrapped it, and took it between her lips. Her eyes rolled upward. Upon opening the small rectangular box, his brows furrowed. “It’s the remote.”

  Her full, chocolate-coated lips silently mouthed the word, “Play.” She placed an ice cold beer in front of him. As she snuggled against his shoulder, her bare foot rubbed the prone, three-month old Rottweiler Pete had given her for Christmas. Anna had named the puppy Talos, for the giant that Zeus had given his lover, Europa, as protection. It seemed appropriate.

  At the touch of the button, Anna’s image illuminated the large 4K LED screen. The narration started, “My darling Pete, this presentation will help you catch up with my past. Merry Christmas! You are my life and future.”

  After licking the last of the artisanal chocolate off her lips, her finger pressed pause, then touched the side of his smiling face. “Your investigation files from last summer were woefully deficient...so I pulled together old private and press photos and video clips. You missed my glamorous past. So, I thought you might imagine being my guardian angel looking over me. I cropped and edited the footage a bit”—she wrinkled her nose—“okay, a lot, so you’ll see mostly me.... Cheers!”