by David Cline
“You’ve to be freaking kidding me,” Wilkins whispered with a grin wider than his face. He bit his fist trying to stifle a laugh. “What a throw. She turned right into it.”
Wood beat his chest with an open palm and punched the air. “I honestly didn’t think it would even be close.”
The two of them disappeared down the dark alleyway. Wood stole one last glance backward and saw a shocked group of people standing around Gisela, who laid on her back clutching her forehead. He smiled to himself and redirected his focus to finding a clandestine way out of the country.
Chapter 20
Doctor Lukas looked out across the vast ocean from the spherical deck of the Odessa research vessel that was anchored over Atlantis Massif. An afternoon storm had rumbled through the area and the salty air felt fresh. Hundreds of solar panels dotting the deck glistened as water streaked down their smooth surfaces. They all rotated with the sun as it arched over the sky, maximizing efficiency. The ocean surface had calmed in the last hour.
They were completely isolated. Lukas wondered what the planet would look like if their plans succeeded. He had seen the computer models countless times. But what would that look like in the real world? Numbers and graphs were one thing, but what physical impact would those numbers have?
A mechanical buzzing signaled the rainwater from the storm had been collected and was beginning its filtration process. It would then be stored below in giant tanks until used in some capacity by the crew. They had filters on board that could purify saltwater into usable freshwater, but they required a lot of energy, so they made sure to take advantage of nature’s faucet whenever possible.
Lukas wondered how his comrades progressed around the globe. He would have heard something if anything had gone drastically wrong, so he assumed everything continued to proceed smoothly. His virtual meeting with Odessa headquarters had taken place that morning. Every week he updated them on their progress. The usually emotionless faces on the screen had almost seemed eager with anticipation. At last, their vision was in sight. Four generations of grueling research were finally coming to fruition. The brilliant scientists who had pushed through the barrier of modern understanding had died without seeing the fruits of their labors. The world did not even know they had existed. Their accomplishments secret. He smiled to himself. They would soon.
Lukas was so absorbed in his thoughts he had not noticed a middle-aged woman join him at his side.
“We’re ready for you Doctor.”
He looked at her. “Strom is in position?”
The woman nodded. “We are getting some incredible readings. There is no doubt we are in the correct position.”
He looked down at his watch. It had taken Strom almost 37 hours longer than their models had predicted to arrive at its destination. He wished he could see what the machine saw as it descended to the bottom of the ocean, through the crust and deep inside the mantle. Unfortunately, such extreme pressure and heat were not conducive to camera equipment.
“What’s the current temperature?” Lukas asked.
“Just shy of 1200 degrees Celsius,” she answered.
The two of them turned and made their way to the double doors at the center of the sphere.
“The signal is coming in strong?” he asked.
“There was a flutter,” she said. “An hour ago we lost contact for three and a half minutes. Then just like that, the signal returned strong as ever.”
“Perfectly normal,” Doctor Lukas said. “Strom is floating in a current of electrically conducting iron-nickel about 2,000 kilometers below the Earth's surface. I wager more flutters will occur over the next few days.”
They reached the stairwell and began their long descent to the bottom floor. When they arrived, the entire crew was already waiting for him. Their moment had finally come.
Doctor Lukas sat down on a swivel chair and peered at the array of monitors positioned in a semi-circle around him. Dynamic data flickered in charts, tables, and graphs. His eyes scanned them quickly. Everything looked good. He felt the crew’s presence behind him as they inched closer to witness everything firsthand. He exhaled a long breath. “It’s time,” he said.
He typed some quick commands on the keyboard and the largest monitor went black. He hit enter and a large data table filled the screen.
“What does this information tell us?” a voice asked from behind.
“This is all the information Strom is sending back to us right now,” Lukas answered. “When Strom blasts the mantle with the electric charge, we should immediately see the effect through this data.”
Lukas held his breath as he moved the mouse and opened a folder. “Here we go,” he whispered. He paused savoring the emotion he felt. He had only dreamt about this moment for the last two years. It all felt surreal. With his heart in his throat, he double clicked the file.
Everyone behind him leaned in toward the screen. The room was completely silent.
“Because of the distance,” he said, “it should take a few moments for that last command to travel through the earth.”
He watched the numbers flicker on the screen. They were about to zap the magnetic current with the largest electric pulse ever delivered by mankind. He had seen what such an event should theoretically do, but only on the computer models. It should kickstart the sluggish magnetic reversal and put it into high gear.
“How will we know if it was successful?”
Doctor Lukas did not answer but focused on the numbers before him. “Any moment now,” he whispered.
For 30 seconds, nothing happened. No one moved. The silence was absolute. Then the numbers began to go crazy. A green candle on a graph spiked and continued to rise. Lukas let out a long breath as his eyes widened. He rushed to take everything in as it happened. A broad smile stretched across his face as his eyes darted from screen to screen.
The group gathered behind him began to cheer. They hugged each other and offered their congratulations for a job well done.
Lukas remained frozen as he absorbed the rapidly changing data like trees absorb sunlight. Suddenly he stood with such speed, he bumped the table and a mug of cold coffee shattered on the floor. He pushed through his comrades and quickly made his way back to the stairwell.
“Is everything okay?” someone asked. “Did it work as planned?”
Lukas swung around as he continued to walk backwards. “Better than as planned,” he called back. “The reversal is going to happen much quicker than we projected. I must call and update the Inneren Kreis on the situation. They better be ready.”
Chapter 21
Professor Goodwill paused midsentence and stared out at his audience. The lecture hall at Oxford University was only a fourth full. The students who had attended were all hidden behind laptops or cell phones. He guessed the only reason most were even present was because a class had required it, or an instructor had offered extra credit. A greasy haired boy sitting a few rows back from the front had such enormous glasses on his face, Goodwill could see the online video he watched reflected in them. It looked like a stream of a first-person shooter video game. Even the stage crew guy high on the balcony, whose only responsibility was to monitor the stage spotlight, had gotten distracted by a text and the blinding light had shifted off center.
Sadly, this reception was standard. Throughout his career, he had been invited to lecture at universities all over the world. His meticulous research on magnetic reversals had made him one of the leading experts in the field. He had hoped because of the reputation and prestige of Oxford the audience would be a little more engaged. Now that he was here, however, he was only disappointed in himself for getting his hopes up. Long gone were the days when students came to college to make a difference.
Goodwill sighed and pressed the clicker to change the slide that was projected behind him.
“Based on the historical information stored in lava rocks,” he continued, “we have determined that the earth’s magnetic poles have reversed approximately
170 times over the last 100 million years. The last time a reversal occurred was roughly 780,000 years ago. You may ask yourselves, what the cause could be for such anomalies. After a lifetime of research, I will be the first to admit we do not unequivocally know. Magnetic reversals are one of the earth’s more ambiguous mysteries.”
He glanced up toward movement in the balcony seats. They were all vacant except for a young couple in a dark corner. By their dubious movements, he guessed they were engaged in suspect activities. Goodwill rolled his eyes. At least his remarks had turned someone on. He clicked to the next slide.
“Despite their mysterious nature, we have been able to learn a great deal about them. For example, a flipping of the magnetic poles does not happen overnight. It can take as little as a century, or as much as 20,000 years to complete. The effect of such an occurrence is quite extraordinary. While the transition takes place, the strength of the earth’s magnetic field is weakened. Like the death star in The Return of the Jedi.”
At that statement the kid with big glasses finally seeming interested in what Goodwill had to say, but then returned his attention to his screen.
“Based on measurements from the 1800’s, scientists have discovered that we are presently in the beginning stages of a magnetic reversal. Recently, European space satellites have calculated that with each passing decade, the magnetic field loses approximately 5% of its strength. Because the earth’s core is made up of molten iron, as it flows, it produces an electrical current. The Earth’s magnetic field is created from that current. One of the most important functions of the magnetic field is to protect earth from harmful amounts of solar radiation from penetrating the atmosphere.”
Goodwill looked out at the sea of electronic devices. Most glowed in a light shade of blue. The laptop fans all whirred in unison as they tried to keep the core components from overheating. He fidgeted with his collar. The temperature beneath the lights on stage always caused his body to break out into an uncomfortable sweat. He wanted to hurry and wrap the lecture up. No one was listening anyway.
“Several colleagues of mine hypothesize that pole reversals have a direct correlation to extinction events. The evidence I have examined, however, suggests animal and plant life inhabiting the planet experienced no major tragedy. We would see ample evidence in the glacial and geological record if the climate suddenly changed, or if the earth’s axis was altered in any significant way.”
“However,” he continued. “Because we, as a species, have become so reliant on modern technology, if a reversal were to occur tomorrow, everyone would feel the effects. Especially if the reversal coincided with tumultuous solar activity. Satellites would fry. Air travel would be grounded. Communication networks all over the globe would go down. Even farmers, who now use GPS navigation to harvest their crops would be forced to adapt.” He paused for a moment and thought about the effect an average solar flare would have on the planet during a magnetic reversal.
His thoughts were interrupted by movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked across the stage. His assistant, who frequently accompanied him to lectures, was behind the stage curtain frantically waving his arms. Goodwill squinted. The spotlights made it damn near impossible to see anything. What could he possibly want? His assistant had never interrupted the middle of a lecture like this before.
The audience began to look up from their screens as their keen sense of misfortune galvanized them to discover the source of the awkward silence now lingering throughout the auditorium.
“As I was saying,” he said, a little flustered.
For the first time that night, everyone looked at the stage. Goodwill looked down at his notes and tried to recover. In unison, the audience shifted their gaze to his assistant who was currently tiptoeing toward him like a cartoon bank robber. His assistant raised his hands and grimaced at the audience as if to apologize for the sudden interruption.
Goodwill covered the microphone with an open palm. “What is it?” he whispered, unable to conceal his irritation.
“It’s an emergency,” his assistant hissed. “Wrap it up. I need to show you something.” He smiled awkwardly toward the audience and then slinked away.
Perplexed, Goodwill stared dumbly at the audience for a few moments. They were now on the edge of their seats, eager with anticipation. He sighed. The only thing they cared about were scandal and controversy. Maybe in the future, he could work an interruption into all his lectures. Everyone was riveted with the expectation of an announcement, and he was not about to gratify their appetite for gossip. He looked at his watch. Normally he would lecture for another half hour and then open it up for a Q & A. He looked behind the curtain again and saw his assistant waving but not about to make a second appearance on stage. What could possibly have happened?
“For more information about today’s lecture,” he managed to say. “visit my website. The URL is on the brochure. Thank you all for coming.”
He heard a collective groan from the audience as he walked away from the microphone and crossed the stage. The onlookers would never know what had caused the sudden conclusion. The temperature dropped about 15 degrees when he exited the spotlight and entered the cool dark area backstage.
“What in the hell was that all about?”
His assistant did not take the time to answer but clutched Goodwill’s arm and pulled him forward. They wound through a maze of random props and equipment. Thick ropes on pulleys with weights at the bottom connected to an array of curtains and backdrops. They turned a corner and came to a dusty table with a laptop. Goodwill guessed this was the spot his assistant had decided to set up shop while he lectured.
“Sit down and try to make sense of this data,” his assistant said. The urgency in his voice pacified Goodwill’s rising temper.
Goodwill sat in the rickety chair and peered at the bright screen. The familiar logo of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration appeared at the top. Below was a host of raw numbers displayed in labeled tables and graphs. He scooted closer and squinted at the changing numbers. His eyes widened. “Is this supposed to be live?” he asked.
“Yes,” his assistant said, with no attempt to conceal the panic in his voice.
“These numbers aren’t possible,” Goodwill said. “Weren’t you listening to my lecture? I literally just discussed this topic at the podium. On a good year, the North magnetic pole might move 40 miles.” He looked at the URL to see if someone had made a fake website to prank their colleagues. The web address checked out.
“I called the Administration already and inquired about the possibility of a satellite malfunction. They told me these numbers have been confirmed by three separate satellites and are just as confused as we are.”
Goodwill frowned and looked back at the screen. “There has to be some sort of glitch in the system. This just can’t happen in the real world.” He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his cell phone he had kept on silent. Thirteen missed calls and six new voicemails.
“What do you think?” his assistant asked.
Goodwill paused, unsure of what to do first. His mind raced in a hundred different directions. “If these numbers are real, we are about to experience a historical event for the ages.” His heart began to beat quicker inside his chest. He did not know if he was more terrified or thrilled to witness the topic of his life’s work manifested in the physical world. The copious amount of computer simulations and speculation would be put to rest. The endless theories and hypotheses would be tested. He flipped around and watched the numbers change again. “If this is real,” he whispered, “my theory of polar reversals happening slowly over centuries will be thrown out the window.”
“What does this mean for the ionosphere?” his assistant asked. “If the poles are reversing so rapidly, the shield around the planet will disappear until it settles and reestablishes some sort of equilibrium.”
“Some type of geological event must have occurred deep inside the earth,” Goodwill said, more to himself
than anyone. “Something big enough to trigger such an unprecedented acceleration. The electrical current inside the core must have been zapped by something.” Could geological forces be responsible? Perhaps there were aspects and characteristics of the inner earth that were still currently unknown. Science evolved so quickly, it was a wonder human beings thought they knew anything with any degree of certainty.
He paused and looked down at his phone again. An unknown number was calling him.
Goodwill glanced up at his assistant and noticed the deep concerned lines crisscrossing his forehead. “You’re right. If the poles reverse this quickly, the entire planet is defenseless against space radiation. Let us just hope there is no significant solar activity in the imminent future.” He stood up to leave. “We need to get back to the office.” His phone vibrated again.
His assistant quickly closed the laptop and forced it into a backpack. “What happens if there is significant solar activity?”
Goodwill paused midstride. “Then I might be incorrect when I say magnetic pole reversals aren’t directly correlated to extinction events.”
Chapter 22
Danville took another sip of his energy drink and sat back in his chair. He lifted his arms high and stretched his back. Caffeine had played an instrumental role in personal productivity the past few weeks. He couldn’t remember if he had stayed in his office for three or four consecutive days now. The long hours blended seamlessly into one continuous blur.
He spun away from his computer and gazed absently around the room. The office was peppered with discarded microwavable dinner cartons and empty aluminum cans.
He walked over to a window to see if it was still morning. Thick shades prevented any natural light from entering, keeping his office perpetually dark. Too much light always gave him a headache. He peeked outside and saw the last remnants of the sun setting behind the horizon. The ocean mist glowed pale orange.
