The Leviathan Effect

by James Lilliefors

  “The fourth process is known as Synthetic Cloud Disassembly. It involves the injection of what is in effect a genetically engineered bacteria into the eye of a hurricane. This process is the most experimental of the four, but also, in some respects, the most promising. It actually stems from ideas developed in the field of artificial intelligence. A plane releases clouds of this substance into the eye of a hurricane and the artificial bacteria attaches to the inner wall of the hurricane, counteracting the convection process. The bacterial agents multiply rapidly, self-combining, forming larger clouds that cause the system to destabilize. These cloud agents have been programmed with what might be called a self-sustaining ‘collective intelligence,’ which in theory, at least, is more effective than the self-sustaining forces driving the hurricane. This technology is being developed through a California-based firm that Dr. Romfo has worked with very closely.”

  He cleared his throat and leaned back, indicating that he was finished. The President exchanged a long look with Blaine.

  Moments later, Vice President Stanton began to chuckle. Everyone in the room turned to him.

  “Sorry,” he said. “But if you want my honest opinion—this all just sounds a little crackers to me.”

  Mr. Zorn stepped toward the table. Placed his hands calmly on the back of an empty chair, showing the creases of a smile in his cheeks. “Yes,” he said. “Much as sending a man to the moon did five decades ago.”

  “That’s true,” said Dr. Romfo, speaking for the first time. She was a large woman with heavy features and long, kinky dark hair. “These ideas aren’t new, actually. With the exception of the last one. The others have all been studied, discussed, dissected, written about and modeled for years.”

  The President glanced at the Vice President, whose smile was still fading.

  “Which one of these processes, then, would you use in this case?” Harold DeVries asked. “With Hurricane Alexander? Which would be most effective?”

  “All four, actually,” said Dr. Romfo.

  “All four.”

  “Mmm hmm,” she said. “Yes, I liken it, in a sense, to cancer treatment. There was a time when the medical community was split, with some researchers advocating radiation and others chemotherapy. Now, of course, we use everything we can. There is often a complex but beneficial collaboration at play among different processes.”

  “Is that what was done in the Pacific?” the Vice President asked.

  “Yes.” Mr. Zorn’s eyes fastened for a second on Blaine’s, as if reading her skepticism. Then he turned to the President and smiled graciously.

  “But is there any guarantee that this will work?” Stanton asked. “I mean, with a storm of this size?”

  “In science,” Dr. Clayton said, “we always hesitate to use the word guarantee. But, yes, I think you can be assured that there will be a dramatic alteration. I don’t know that we can promise we will stop or destroy the storm entirely. But it will be severely diminished.”

  “Which,” added Mr. Zorn, “put another way, translates into thousands of lives saved. Probably many more.”

  Blaine could see the wheels turning in the President’s head. It was actually a brilliant strategy, she realized, getting these particular people on board. All three were “big ideas” people, known for backing speculative projects. But at the same time, this presentation reminded her of an optical illusion—two images sharing the same space; seen one way, it could be perceived as a humanitarian breakthrough; seen another, it felt devious and disingenuous. Clearly, they were taking advantage of a vulnerability; there wasn’t sufficient interest in this field. Even within the Department of Homeland Security, there had been a series of false starts over the years—including Project HURRMIT, designed to model the most promising hurricane mitigation experiments, and “FutureTECH,” which was supposed to develop hurricane mitigation research partnerships between the government and the private sector; but both projects had been scrapped years ago, before Blaine came on board.

  “If you have the chance to save so many lives with your technology,” the Vice President asked, “why bring this to us? Why not just do it?”

  “A fair question,” said Mr. Zorn, resting his hands on the chair-back again. “Mr. Garland has, as you know, created funding for many technologies that have changed the way we live our lives. I believe he’s the person most qualified to answer that.”

  The venture capitalist nodded, sitting up straighter, scooting his elbows forward. “Thank you,” he said. “Before I go to the question, let me first give you a number. Three hundred and twenty-six. Okay? That’s how many proposals are submitted to our firm on an average week. And I have to say, at the outset, that this is easily the most exciting project we—I—have ever taken on.

  “What makes it particularly exciting is, as Mr. Zorn mentioned, this is not something that is hypothetical. It’s something that has already shown highly tangible results.” Garland, unlike the other members of his team, seemed comfortable talking without making eye contact, Blaine noticed; mostly, he seemed to look between people. “But it’s a complicated and enormously expensive process, or series of processes, actually,” he said. “Which requires a substantial funding mechanism to exist and evolve, whether it be government or the private sector. Eventually, as the industry expands, costs will come down, of course. To date, we have backed its evolution with venture capital money. With the understanding that this consortium will eventually be sold.”

  “It’s really the ground floor of a new industry,” added Mr. Zorn. “The United States government, of course, has traditionally gotten behind important new technologies. Which is why we are here today. This is, as you can see, a very significant opportunity for your government.”

  Garland nodded. “At some point in the not-too-distant future, we would like to think that natural disasters such as Alexander will become obsolete. The only substantial obstacle to reaching that point is funding.”

  Blaine saw something subtle light President Hall’s face and realized that they were hitting all the right notes. Playing to the President’s weakness for “big ideas.” She felt a new resentment gathering inside her.

  “But our concern, if I may, is not the future,” said the Vice President. “It’s right now. It’s this storm. That storm,” he said pointing toward the Rose Garden.

  “Yes. Exactly.” Mr. Zorn nodded without looking at him. His eyes turned to Easton, who nodded once.

  “And so, what if we don’t—I mean, say we don’t want to buy into the rest of it?” asked Stanton.

  Mr. Zorn tilted his head, as if talking to a college freshman. “I’m afraid the consortium doesn’t differentiate in quite that manner,” he said, showing his dimples. “It’s a complicated business and, as we’ve said, the processes are all inter-related. But I think I see what you’re saying. And I think after this case, you will be convinced.”

  Silence followed. Everyone seemed to be waiting for the President to speak.

  “So. What is it we’d be buying?” he finally said.

  “You’d be buying the consortium, sir,” Mr. Zorn said, comfortable with everyone watching him take charge. “You’d be buying the science and technology of twenty-seven leading research and development firms. On an exclusive basis. Once the mitigation of Alexander is carried out, that is.”

  The President glanced at the briefing book, then raised his eyes to Mr. Zorn. “Meaning …? We would own it?”

  “In effect, yes,” Mr. Zorn replied. “Inevitably, out of necessity, this would be a worldwide partnership, of course, because, as you are well aware, the world’s weather is all inter-related. But, yes, you would take the lead. You would control it.”

  “How would it work?” Blaine asked. “The mitigation, I mean. How soon would it begin?”

  “Well. Assuming we reach a basic working agreement this afternoon? Mitigation could commence at the conclusion of this meeting.”

  Vice President Stanton was shaking his head. “I just think we’d all l
ike a few more details here, fellas. I mean, I don’t see what this booklet—” He held it up, then reconsidered and changed gears. “I mean, where are the major facilities doing this mitigation? How exactly does it operate? We need more than this, fellas.”

  Without missing a beat, Mr. Zorn replied, “There are sixty-three facilities owned and operated by the consortium, Mr. Vice President. Seven of them would be directly involved in this initial mitigation project, enacting the four primary processes. They are all identified in the booklet. They will be controlled by a mobile Command Center. There is no central physical facility. Dr. Romfo is the chief acting scientist for the consortium.”

  Blaine looked directly at Mr. Zorn, incredulous that no one on her team was making a more vigilant inquiry. “From what I can see,” she began, “you’ve gone out of your way not to publicize your operation or any of this research. You’ve in effect created a monopoly, out of sight of the public.” He offered no response, so she went on. “That’s what it looks like, anyway. Are you now proposing forming this partnership without public knowledge?”

  “Ah, a very good question. Actually, no.” He showed her his dimples. “The opposite. The publicity surrounding the mitigation of this hurricane would generate enormous public support for this new technology. In fact, we would ask that, upon the successful mitigation of Alexander, the President make an announcement trumpeting this new technology.”

  Blaine frowned. “So you would want this mitigation and this partnership to go public?”

  “Why, yes. Certainly. We would prepare a statement. Together.”

  Of course, Blaine thought.

  Garland was nodding now. “That’s actually one of the more attractive elements of this. For you,” he said. “Establishing the United States as a leader in this field.”

  “Which would also be one of the more attractive elements for you,” said the President. But his tone was more collegiate than challenging.

  “Perhaps,” Mr. Zorn said seriously. “But, of course, the credit for pulling this together, harnessing all the existing technologies to stop this storm, would go to the United States. It would be quite a boost to your international standing.”

  The President frowned and glanced at the rain; Blaine could tell he liked the sound of that. This was very smart. They had tailored this to him. Her instincts were telling her to slow this down. But how? It was just what Charles Mallory had said. The endgame is legitimacy.

  “Would we have the opportunity to inspect these facilities?” the Vice President asked. “To see the whole set-up.”

  “Why yes, of course,” Zorn said, as if this were the most obvious point. “Although, as you can see, this is not a project that we want to deliberate over for too long at this stage. The mitigation would have to begin immediately. I think you would all agree with that.”

  Bill Stanton made a non-committal grunt. He looked at Blaine, who shook her head. “I think what we’re all wrestling with here, sir—and excuse me if I’m speaking out of turn—but, I mean, could we do this on an incremental basis? Or, as a trial, so to speak.”

  “Yes. It is a trial.” Mr. Zorn said.

  He then let Garland provide a more proper reply. “I understand your concern, Mr. Vice President. As we said, because of the costs and the complexity of this consortium—the twenty-seven partners involved—this will, naturally, require a commitment. However, the agreement hinges first on what happens with Alexander.”

  Blaine saw the President nodding very slightly.

  “I’m not clear on this term ‘partnership,’ ” Blaine spoke up. “Who would maintain this technology? These sixty-three facilities? They’d become part of the government? I’m not clear how this would work.”

  Mr. Zorn lifted his head in a reflective manner. “Well. There are several ways of going forward, aren’t there?” he said. “Probably the most sensible would be to create an agency, either an international agency or an office within the United States government, to oversee these operations. But that’s for you to decide.”

  Romfo said, “Let me just add. The real potential here isn’t deflecting one storm, it’s the science of mitigating natural disasters. The World Bank and United Nations estimate the annual cost of natural disasters is in the neighborhood of ninety billion. Much of that could be avoided with a responsible investment in this technology.”

  Mr. Zorn added, curtly, “Yes, but, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The first step, remember, is Alexander.”

  Moments later, everyone looked up as a crack of thunder shook the room.

  THIRTY-SIX

  THE SHADOWS OF RAIN swam in a hazy oblong across the conference table. Catherine Blaine imagined that there were various legal ways of shutting this down—violations of free trade and monopolies law, if not more blatant criminal and terrorism charges. But the President wasn’t thinking that, she could tell; the immediate concern was this storm, the monster hurricane churning across the North Atlantic.

  “If I may just elaborate,” Morgan Garland said. “What we’re saying is that the consortium—the Weathervane Group—is offering this technology to you because we believe the United States would be the most responsible steward for it.”

  But you’re bringing it to us at a stage when we have no alternative but to accept, Blaine thought.

  Mr. Zorn made a conciliatory gesture to the President, showing the palms of his hands. “One way you might want to look at this is to consider two stark alternatives. In the first scenario, let’s say we reach an agreement this afternoon. The United States adopts this technology and utilizes it to successfully mitigate the worst Atlantic hurricane on record. This event then becomes the catalyst for a worldwide awareness of weather management. And, also, I might add, for the establishment of international guidelines, which, in effect, will bring about a new field of science.”

  The President nodded. “And the second scenario?”

  “Well. That is a scenario in which an agreement is not reached.” Zorn displayed his practiced smile, which seemed suddenly inappropriate. “And the United States does not play a leadership role in this field. Which simply means that someone else does.”

  “Explain that, if you would,” said the President.

  “Certainly.” Mr. Zorn waited a moment, his eyes taking in the people around the table one at a time before settling again on the President. “In other words, if the United States should, for whatever reason, decide it doesn’t want to adopt this proposal, then, in all likelihood, it would, of necessity, go to another buyer.”

  “And who’s on your waiting list?” Vice President Stanton asked.

  “There is no waiting list, sir. That is our point. No one knows about or would have access to this technology except for the United States.”

  “So you’re not threatening to open up bids to China or Iran, if we don’t accept?” he said. “Or to Al-Qaeda?”

  “Precisely the opposite,” Mr. Zorn said. “We don’t threaten. We are a scientific consortium. We’re simply assuming that you will not deliberately allow this to fall into the wrong hands.”

  Clark Easton leaned forward, his bulk pushing against the table. He had been looking through the booklet for the past several minutes with a strange detachment. “You’re hearing some concerns from our team and I’ve been mostly quiet here,” he said. “But I just want to interject two points. First, in looking through this list, I can tell you that I’m familiar with several of these twenty-seven companies. The Pentagon has worked with these contractors and research firms and I can—and will—vouch for them. Second, there is another aspect of this proposal that you haven’t fully addressed, Mr. Zorn, which at least bears mentioning. And that’s the military component.”

  “Military,” echoed the Vice President.

  Mr. Zorn was nodding. “Yes, he’s quite right. There is reason to believe that militarized weather technology is being developed presently by both China and Russia. I might add that there are even some rumors flying on the Internet that this storm migh
t have been hatched by the government of China.”

  Easton exchanged a glance with the President. “You know,” Easton said, “in the 1940s we failed to see the military potential of space flight and, consequently, we fell behind. The Soviets understood that before we did. I do think we need to be forward-looking with this.”

  “So what exactly are you proposing here?” Blaine said. “What are the terms?”

  As the room went silent, the rain seemed to fall louder against the windows.

  “Because of the nature of the threat, we would simply ask for you to sign a letter of intent this afternoon, establishing our partnership,” Mr. Zorn said, looking not at her but at the President. “Mitigation would then commence immediately. We will give you status reports beginning this evening at nine P.M. and continuing every two hours starting at eight A.M. tomorrow.”

  “A letter of intent with an initial payment?” the President said.

  “Yes, that is correct. We would need to establish an account, which would become the initial funding mechanism for this. Our consortium members have recommended that the successful mitigation of this storm begin a five-year partnership. But, again, details wouldn’t need to be negotiated until after this storm is mitigated.”

  “So what would you need today?”

  “Just the agreement, and the initial funding.”

  “And what is this ‘initial funding’?”

  Mr. Zorn’s brow furrowed dramatically. “The consortium has suggested that within four hours of signing this agreement, you create a fund to authorize and support the use of this consortium’s full resources. The initial balance in that fund would be five billion dollars. That would cover costs and preparations for the mitigation. After that, we would meet again and establish a budget. All we would need now, however, is your signature.”