Eventually, we found ourselves revisiting the theme of universal destruction, the possible ways in which we could come to grips with the catastrophe intellectually, philosophically, and emotionally.
Roxy reflected on the notion of punishment from above. "I am more convinced, as time goes by, that so-called civilized people brought the destruction upon themselves—maybe I should say ourselves—by becoming mean and materialistic."
"I can't agree," Sarah countered, "that society became less moral. You could argue to the contrary: what with civil rights, in-creased concern for the poor, and mainly the victories of democracy over despotism. That doesn't mean we didn't anger the gods. Having spent these many months among technical types"—she looked at Tom and me with affection, despite her words—"well, I have some new ideas about what might constitute the offense against heaven. I never realized before how deeply science had penetrated the physical mysteries of the universe. And I don't mean just Prometheus learning the secret of fire. We snatched metals from the earth, mastered electricity, deciphered the atom, and had begun to manipulate human genes. Doesn't this begin to threaten the supremacy of the Deity—or deities?"
"I don't think that's the problem," Roxy countered. "In my view, God doesn't resent people for being smart, only for being nasty." She picked up the Bible that Mary had brought to the meeting, and flipped through the early pages of Genesis until she came to the story of Noah.
"Here it is," she said. " 'And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart. And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth...' But Noah was spared, and why? Because 'Noah was a just man ... and Noah walked with God.' "
Roxy pursed her lips and looked intently at the book in her hands. "So Noah built the ark as he was directed to do, and then the Lord said to him, 'Come thou and all thy house into the ark; for thee have I seen righteous before me in this generation.' " She put down the book with satisfaction, and addressed us as if she were delivering a sermon: "The man was saved because he was just and righteous. It had nothing to do with intelligence or lack of it. And, of course, the animals were saved because—well, just because they deserved to be saved."
"But, sweetheart," Herb said, "how about the rainbow? How about the covenant that God made with Noah that this wouldn't happen again? Let me see that book."
Roxy showed him where she had been reading, and in a moment, Herb spoke out with a tone of challenge in his voice: "Here it is: 'And the Lord said in his heart, I will not again curse the ground any more for man's sake ... While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.' "
"It seems to me," I said, "that implicit in the covenant is the understanding that humankind will not go back to evil ways."
"Or maybe," Sarah said, "God couldn't help Himself. Maybe He doesn't control comets that come from far, far out in space, from— what's it called, the Oort cloud?"
"Or maybe," Tom said, "God never made the promise at all, and it was simply imagined by the guy who wrote the Noah story. After all, what we're talking about is a story, and the plot is probably based on some historical catastrophe."
Mary reached over, picked up her Bible, and said, "Listen you guys. In the true spirit of Christmas, I forgive you the blasphemy of playing wordgames with the Holy Book."
"Well, dearest Mary," Tom said, "if you're dispensing forgiveness, then let me tell you what I really think. I believe that the gods— with a small 'g'—or the devils, or the fates, have been playing a little game. I've thought about this a lot in the past year, and there's no other way to explain it. Just consider."
"Uh-oh," Herb exclaimed. "Mary, cover your ears."
"Maybe we ought to write this down," Sarah said, smiling. "A new version of the Apocalypse."
"No, bear with me," Tom continued. "The world is destroyed on Christmas Day, except for a small region containing a relatively small number of people. Not one righteous man like Noah, mind you, with his family and a bunch of animals; but a community just about large enough to embark on restoring an advanced civilization with a technological base. The spared population consists of proven pragmatists with many talents, and outstanding survival skills; and the land which they call home has most of the natural resources one could want. Into their midst sails a ship containing six hundred of the most proficient and knowledgeable engineers in the world, along with their textbooks, handbooks, notebooks, and up-to-the-minute plans. Also families and crew, people of many talents— mechanical, scientific, medical—plus other endowments having little or nothing to do with the sciences.
"Between the natives and the people aboard ship—the Inlanders and the Outlanders—practically all the races of the world are represented. Granted, there should be, by proportion, more Asians.
But, after all, every game has its rules, and in this one the world, as it exists, is a given. If the story took place in Asia, there would be hardly any non-Asians. That wouldn't do. At least in KwaZulu Natal, there are blacks and whites, and an astonishingly large number of people who hail from the Indian subcontinent. And, as partial compensation for the lack of Asians in the local population, remember that aboard the ship they are very well represented. This is so because Asians are prominent in the engineering profession, and also because they serve on crews in many oceangoing ships. And, who knows, perhaps Gordon Chan is right in his conjecture that there is a circle of survival somewhere on the Chinese mainland.
"Anyhow, there you have it. The game is all laid out and ready to play. Once before, human beings, extraordinary creatures, went from the Stone Age to high technology in six thousand years. Let's see if they can do it again, only faster. We'll put them back in the Stone Age—the way that General LeMay suggested the United States do to Vietnam—but leave them most of their accumulated knowledge. What will happen? Isn't it fun to speculate? Place your bets, fellow deities. Ready, set, go! Can anybody offer another theory that makes more sense?"
After a few moments of silence, Sarah spoke up. "Well," she said, "if you want to let your imagination run wild, I have a better idea. Suppose we've all been bopped on the head, like the hero of Mark Twain's Connecticut Yankee, or the narrator in Edward Bellamy's Looking Backward. In that case, everything we've lived through has been a dream, and soon we will awaken."
"A year is an awfully long time for a dream," Tom said.
"Besides," I said, "I've been dreaming a lot lately. Is it possible to have dreams within a dream?" What I didn't say was that most of my dreams have been about Queen Ranavolana. Danger, mystery, ineffable beauty, and enigmatic evil—that red-sailed ship represents everything that lies beyond my everyday world and well-ordered conscious thoughts. I have a feeling that I knew of its existence before I ever saw it and that I will dream of it forever. But all I said was, "Dreams within dreams? It hardly seems likely."
Tom ignored my musing, and returned to his hypothesis of a game conceived by the gods. "The thing I really like about my idea," he said, "is that while the gods think they've made up a game for their own amusement, the truth is they've made up a fascinating game for us. Start from ground zero and see what you can accomplish. The challenge is posed, and it is up to us to meet it. Meeting a challenge is what makes us feel most alive—at least that's true for the engineers amongst us."
"That's just dandy," Herb said. "Are you saying that the gods did the engineers a favor by destroying the world? And they did it on Christmas Day? What a lovely present. And how about the rest of us, who could do very nicely without so much challenge?"
"Well, honey," Roxy said, "it is true for everyone that your challenger, your adversary even, can be your best friend. That's like the Zen view of tennis. I read it once in a book. By making things difficult for you, your opponent brings out the best that is in you, and therefore
does you the kindest possible favor."
"That reminds me of Sisyphus," I said, "condemned to roll a heavy boulder up a hill, only to see it fall back to the bottom each time he reaches the summit." Then to Sarah, "Didn't you tell me about a philosopher who said that we have to imagine Sisyphus as happy?"
"That was Albert Camus," Sarah said.
"And, by the way," I asked, "what great sin was Sisyphus supposed to have committed?"
"According to the myth," Sarah said, "he cheated Death by craftily chaining him up. So nobody died until Death was freed by Ares, the god of war. The gods were not amused."
"That's a pretty good story," Tom said. "And that's certainly one of the things that engineers try to do—cheat Death, so to speak, by helping people live in a better, safer, more comfortable world."
"At the same time that they help War do his awful work," Roxy said.
"Okay," Herb interjected, "we can weave our pretty stories, and show how clever we are. But the life we're living is neither a dream nor a game contrived in heaven. We've been tested all right—to the limit and beyond. And we can't be sure that we've seen the last of our trials. What if another comet strikes tomorrow, or earthquake, or flood, or plague? Or how about an invasion by aliens? What if it is our lot to be tormented forever?"
"Challenge is one thing, perpetual torment is another," Sarah offered. "If I thought that heaven were deliberately cruel—which I do not, by the way—I fear I would echo the words of Dostoevsky's Ivan Karamazov. After thinking about all the misery that exists, particularly the horrible anguish suffered by innocent children, Ivan says that he intends to 'most respectfully' return his ticket to God— that is, his ticket of admittance to the world."
"Hey, gang," I said, "this is the holiday season. Let's lighten up. How about a little jingle bells and mistletoe?"
"You know," Roxy said, "one of the things I've always liked best about Christmas is that it comes exactly a week before New Year's. A week to plan how you're going to party. I love New Year's Eve. It doesn't carry any of the emotional baggage of the other holidays. After Thanksgiving and Christmas, it's just what's needed. No matter where I've been in the world, and no matter whether things were looking up or down, I've always tried to celebrate the coming of January. Out with the fuddy-duddy old guy with the sickle, and in with the darling little baby. New beginning. New hope. Last year, we were in a state of shock, with nothing to be festive about. But this year I think we should live it up a little."
"There are several parties being planned, you know," Sarah said.
"Yes," Tom said, "they're ready to test one of the new steam engines at Empangeni, and the plan is to start it up at midnight of December 31 with toasts and music. I've been meaning to tell Mary that we've been invited."
"We're not going to any party at Empangeni," Mary said. "I love steam engines. But if I have anything to say about it, we're going to celebrate with our friends right here in Engineering Village. Herb and Roxy will be gone soon enough. I think we should be together."
"I figured that's the way you'd feel," Tom said, just a touch sheepishly. "I've already told them I'd come over to see the engine the next morning."
"What I've been thinking," Roxy said, "is that this is the time for us to have another fling with our line dancing. I know we associate that with the carefree days before the Event, and we've never had the heart to go back to it. But I've been saving my cowgirl outfit, damn it, and I'm just dying to put it on again."
"But how about the music?" Mary asked. "Without electricity, there's no way we can play that boom box of yours."
"I'm way ahead of you on that," Roxy said. "A few of the guys from the band have agreed to help out. I've got them rehearsing 'Cowboy Hustle,' 'Tennessee Stroll,' 'Country Strut,' and my very best favorite, 'Dallas Shuffle.' "
She started to hum and clap her hands. "You remember 'Dallas Shuffle,' don't you? Come on, grab your partners. Just for a minute, just to see if you can still move."
We rose to our feet, awkward and uncertain. The women were several months pregnant, and it showed. But then Sarah called out, "Let's do it!" and there we were, modified sweetheart position, moving to the music. Roxy sang out the melody and continued to clap the rhythm, while at the same time she nudged Herb into position next to her. I tried to remember the old instructions: "Lift your stomach, rib cage up and in. Lift your chin so that it's parallel to the floor. Don't look down!" Pretty soon it was coming back. The body remembers. And there we were, stepping lively, feeling good, looking good, too—better still, not caring how we looked.
Thus do we answer the heavens. With dance. With steam engines. And with our babies to come.
After awhile, we sat down, out of breath, laughing—for the moment without a care. Or rather, with cares held at bay by Roxy's dauntless spirit, and by our own. Suddenly, Sarah took my hand and placed it on her belly. I felt movement, as if the little feet within were trying to mark the beat.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I began work on this book by searching for a place—a part of the world in which the survivors could, with some prospect of success, attempt to rebuild a technological society. It had to be a place endowed with temperate climate, flourishing agriculture, and large numbers of domestic animals. Other natural resources were a must—especially timber, coal, iron, and copper. Furthermore, these resources had to be close to an ocean shore and concentrated within an area that could serve as home for a functional community—say a circle with a diameter of a hundred miles or so. It was easier to describe such a spot than to find it.
A solution suggested itself one day when I pulled down from my bookshelf a copy of The Times Atlas and turned to Plate 1, "World Minerals." My eye fell immediately on South Africa, where the map showed several large symbols indicating an abundance of crucial materials. Other charts in the atlas, dealing with crops, livestock, and climate, seemed also to support South Africa as a promising possibility.
However, South Africa is a large country, and the information in the atlas did not enable me to zero in on an area of the requisite limited size. My problem was solved when, through the good offices of Martin Creamer, Publishing Editor of Martin Creamer's Engineering News, Gardenview, South Africa, I was able to retain as a researcher Dr. Kelvin Kemm, a consulting engineer from Pretoria. This professional contact blossomed into an E-mail friendship that I have come to value highly. My files now bulge with maps, charts, catalogues, technical papers, and lengthy letters dealing with South African natural resources—also such non-technical matters as Zulu names, childhood memories of Durban, stories about wild animals, etc.—much more than I could possibly use in a dozen books. Collecting the information became something of an end in itself, and as soon as the research project ended, I started to miss those lively messages from Pretoria. In addition to his valuable research, Kelvin read one draft of the manuscript and made some insightful suggestions. His cheerful enthusiasm for the enterprise was a great morale-booster.
The information I received from Kelvin Kemm convinced me that, from a geographical point of view, the province of KwaZulu Natal was the ideal setting for my story. Fortuitously, it turned out that the population of that region also met my criteria for an ideal supporting cast—multi-ethnic, technologically accomplished, and most of all, politically pragmatic.
Several other South African engineers provided support and information. In response to a letter of inquiry that Martin Creamer printed in his publication, I received friendly communiques from Bill Brunjes, Elma Holt, Wally Langsford, Philip Lloyd, and Patrick Taylor.
Once the sphere of action was established, my next task was to devise a means of destroying all the people on Earth outside of the chosen spot. With most catastrophes, such as earthquake, nuclear war, disease, and climate change, I found it exceedingly difficult to wipe out everyone in the world except for a select few in KwaZulu Natal. However, the impactor-from-space scenario showed promise, and this is the one I decided to pursue. Embarking on a journey around the Internet, I dis
covered a lively community of people interested in—and wary of—comets and asteroids. Eventually I found my way to the Lunar and Planetary Laboratory at the University of Arizona. More particularly, I made contact with James Head, a graduate student in the university's Department of Planetary Sciences. Calculations for the calamity scenario are his. If there are purists who are not convinced by the figures, let me just say that destruction of the world is not a field in which there has ever been much by way of agreed standards. In general, the K/T disaster theory has gained wide support, and Walter Alvarez has provided a simplified exposition of it in his book, T. Rex and the Crater of Doom. A more scientific treatment is "Ignition of Global Wildfires at the Cretaceous/Tertiary Boundary," by H. J. Melosh and N. M. Schneider of the Lunar and Planetary Laboratory, K. J. Zahnie of NASA, and D. Latham of the U.S. Forest Service Intermountain Fire Sciences Laboratory, Nature, 18 January 1990. In that paper there is reference to F. L. Whipple's hypothesis about the rain-down of fire through "molecular drag," Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 1950.
According to my specifications, Jim Head devised a "safe zone" that sliced through the southeast shore of South Africa, providing Richards Bay as a beachhead, and KwaZulu Natal as a center of action. By happenstance, the zone also included the southern portion of Madagascar. This gave me, as a bonus setting, that incredibly exotic island. Incidentally, the quote about the population of Madagascar being "the most astonishing fact of human geography in the entire world," comes from Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies by Jared Diamond.
Although the geographical setting and the catastrophe scenario were my biggest research challenges, I received other assistance that needs to be mentioned.
The Aftermath Page 31
