The Carbon Trap (The Carbon Series Book 1)

by Randy Dutton

  She thought of the child’s flip flop floating back to sea. “Would our progeny survive the reduction?”

  “Of course. Both you and I are of the same class of people – educated, enlightened, and oh so good looking,” he mused. “You don’t have kids. I’ve got three from two prior marriages. But I’ve been responsible.”

  “Because you had a vasectomy?”

  “That’s right, besides I don’t need some wench claiming my assets because I fathered another resource consuming child. Been there with wife two. As for you and me, I’ve no doubt dispensation will be made for the offspring of elites.”

  “But your theory doesn’t differentiate which children are viruses and which aren’t. To these guys, all children are viruses – yours, mine if I ever have any, everyone’s.” Anger tinged her words.

  “Darling Anna, don’t worry. If you ever have a child, society will take care of it. But cheer up! Fate seems to have dealt you an advantageous hand where you may never be burdened with children.”

  Burdened?! She shuttered, feeling like she had been kicked in the gut.

  He continued unaware of her emotional turmoil. “But, hypothetically, you might be limited by government to just that one.”

  She grimaced, and then lowered herself back upon his chest so he wouldn’t see her growing melancholy. “Robert, seriously, how would you lower the numbers?”

  “We can educate people to restrict family size. Hell, if we gave every family a 4G phone, they could watch TV. That would reduce population.”

  “How would TV affect making babies?”

  “Sociologists say ‘a bed is the poor man’s opera.’ The poor make babies because they don’t have anything else to do. We believe empowering women is the shortest route to bending the future population growth curve. And wireless is the best way to make education accessible in the developing world.”

  “I can’t dispute the empowering or education part. But I sense you really just want to expand your movie audience.”

  His smile widened as his attention drifted to the moving curtains. “The alternative’s to implement something like China’s ‘One Child Policy.’”

  Her body tensed.

  “China uses financial incentives and forced abortions....”

  Anna shivered at the phrase.

  He continued, “A former US Science Advisor to President Obama, John Holdren—”

  “I’ve met him.”

  “Well, he advocated putting sterilants into food and drinking water and forced sterilization for women after they gave birth to a designated number of children —”

  “Not exactly, Robert. He co-authored a book titled ‘Ecoscience: Population, Resources, Environment that discussed those as possibilities but he fell short advocating them.”

  “The point, Darling, is that these are policies many people now agree with. I have a movie project honoring the book.”

  “Dare I ask what it’s about?” Her tone was sharp.

  “Solutions to overpopulation, from voluntary family planning to enforced population controls. It recommends milder methods of influencing family size such as access to birth control and abortion. Financial incentive is another method. I interviewed some researchers, Murtaugh and Schlax...I believe those were their names...at Oregon State University. They claimed reducing family size by just one child saved 20 times the CO2 emissions than if the mother lived a green lifestyle. The point was that we guilt and incentivize families into accepting responsibility for the carbon emissions of their descendents.”

  “Guilt...is a powerful emotion.” Her voice was soft.

  “Yeah, but I don’t think it’ll be enough.... Want to know a little secret?”

  “Sure.”

  “Those mosquito nets being shipped to Africa for all the children to sleep in?”

  “Yes, what about them?” She cocked her head to see his expression.

  “Do you know what they’re coated with?” He had a mischievous smile.

  “Insecticides.”

  “Yes, but do you know the long-term effect of the insecticides?”

  Her brow furrowed. “No.”

  “Imagine a child breathing, eight hours every night, through a filter impregnated with chemicals that interfere with the genetic structure. In many cases these kids are right up against the nets, absorbing the chemicals through their skin....”

  The painting’s twisted image flashed through her mind.

  His enthusiastic description continued. “And users are to re-dope many of the nets every three to six months. Now multiply the users by the hundreds of millions, or billions, and see if that doesn’t help reduce global population, particularly in Africa where there are so many problems. And efforts are being made to provide enough nets for all ages. We couldn’t have wished for a better delivery system.”

  “Are you serious?!” She pulled away from him to stare into his eyes.

  “As a heartbeat!” He was still smiling. “Don’t believe me? Go to the UN WHOPES website on approved insecticides, though I like to think of it as the Whoops website, then look up the effects.”

  “Which are?” she growled.

  “The chemicals cause respiratory failure, and include irritants, sensitizers, and neurotoxins. Hell, first thing the data sheets tell people are the chemicals are highly toxic and to avoid skin contact and breathing in the fumes. And we’re putting their babies and pregnant women into these pesticide bags. Smart huh?!”

  “That’s horrible!”

  “Are you kidding? You don’t see the brilliance?!” He continued excitedly. “We’re talking ‘big picture.’ This will help save the planet for the rest of humanity. Maybe Rachel Carson would be upset...after all, this is the kind of stuff she warned about in Silent Spring…. But guess who’s funding these nets? The UN, the World Health Organization, foundations, movie stars and universities. I think even your boss, Swanson, is one of the backers.”

  A shiver ran through her at the mention of Swanson’s participation – that meant she was unknowingly culpable. “Certainly the government doesn’t condone the chemicals?”

  “The pesticides aren’t approved by the EPA for nets, but that doesn’t matter. They don’t have jurisdiction outside the US.”

  “America’s providing a hazardous product outside the country it doesn’t allow inside? That’s insane!”

  “So what? It happens all the time...Anyway,” Robert continued nonchalantly, “President Wilson’s Administration forced sterilization upon thousands of women, and many states had eugenics boards that picked people to sterilize. American prisons are already sterilizing women inmates. There’re many ways to accomplish population control, but I think the most effective way is through indoctrination by the media.”

  “Which I’ve been helping with,” she grumbled.

  He chuckled. “Why, that gives me another movie idea—”

  “What if the people resist?” Her mouth hung open as her anger rose.

  “Then we use the power of global government to restrain them and re-educate them for sake of the world.”

  “And if still they fight?”

  “What do you do to a stray dog that nobody wants?” he asked rhetorically.

  A moment of silence passed between them.

  “I do so love our chats,” he said cheerfully.

  Suddenly, her mind flashed again to the Maldives painting, the black stain over the woman’s image growing in prominence and another shiver ran through her. Her head lowered back onto his chest to hide her inner turmoil.

  “Anna, is an actor really the character he plays when the camera stops?”

  “Sometimes…if they don’t know who they really are.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Most of us in the movie industry love the challenge of forming a message and having it absorbed by the audience. We don’t really care about the message itself, just the impact. The good ones can make equally good movies for either side of the same issue. Does that help?”

  “Not really.�
�� Anna emitted a small, sad laugh. The world’s gone mad.

  Chapter 36

  July 5, 0800 hours

  Snath Genetics, South San Francisco

  Sven pondered a global map framed on his office wall. He had worked most of the holiday weekend on his plans.

  There’s no reason to celebrate America’s birthday when American freedom had enabled capitalists to allow people to live a life of plenty at Earth’s expense.

  Sven pressed the intercom and spoke to his secretary whom he had called in over the holiday weekend.

  “Darla, I need a list of the shipping agents handling all global ocean freight routes.” He provided some criteria. “Schedule each of their best logistics agents in my office this afternoon.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And get hold of Eric and have him come to my office.”

  “I’ll try, Mr. Johansson. It may be tough on a holiday Monday.”

  Sven clenched his teeth. Damn holidays, always interfering with work! “We have most or their cell phones or home numbers...track them down!” he said gruffly.

  “Yes, Sir.” She was intimidated by his uncharacteristic brusque demand.

  Eric Thames entered the office 45 minutes after the call. “Have a good Fourth of July, Sven?”

  Thames was a small man, in his early 50s, balding and slightly overweight. A genetics genius himself, he had had a mediocre career in Sven’s old biogenetics firm, held back not because of intellect or ingenuity but, rather, by his bland persona. His bosses just didn’t listen to him. Even prior to Sven hiring him, he had demonstrated unwavering support and belief towards Sven’s view of unrestricted biogenetic engineering. Now with the prestige and high pay as production manager, Eric felt he owed everything to Sven – just the way Sven wanted it.

  “Yeah, right,” Sven muttered. “Please close the door. I have a project I want you to head up.... It’s secret and the details are just between us.”

  Eric sat down. “Sure. What is it?”

  “We’re going to implement the phytoplankton solution,” Sven said solemnly.

  “Really? I thought Swanson pulled the plug?” Eric looked confused.

  “He did,” Sven answered tersely. “We’re going to do it anyway.”

  Eric’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard. “O-k-a-y” the word rolled out slowly.

  “I’ve come up with a plan that will distribute the phytoplankton across the world in the areas where it will spread the fastest....”

  Eric’s lips were pursed.

  “Look, I know there’s a big risk for both of us. You’ll be taken care of, regardless how this pans out. I’ll authorize a year-end bonus that will let you retire right after we do this. You won’t have to worry about your financial future, and you can take your wife on that long, world vacation you’ve talked about for…forever.”

  Eric relaxed with a smile.

  “As for Swanson, I’ll take the heat. It’s my idea, and you just followed orders. Okay?”

  Eric paused then nodded complacently. “Yes.”

  “Look, it may take a while, but it’ll work. We’ll be eco-heroes, and nobody will be able to take that away from us.”

  Eric’s lips pulled into a thin smile. “Sven, I owe you a lot. I’ve had the best 10 years of my life, working for you. Professionally, I couldn’t have asked for more authority and freedom…I’m in. If what you’re planning ends my career...well...it was a great run. I think we’ve already put things in play that will help end global warming. And if the phytoplankton accelerates the solution – as you and I think it would – well, all the better. Yeah, I’m in. Tell me what you want.”

  Sven briefed him on the details.

  Eric soon left to scale up production from lab volumes to the thousands of liters this plan required.

  The intercom buzzed half an hour later. “Sven,” Darla started “Jeffrey’s here to see you.”

  “Send him in, and hold the calls.”

  “Hi, Sven.” Jeffrey was all smiles. He rolled out some blueprints on Sven’s conference table. “I’ve been working on this all weekend. Here’s what I’ve come up with. The global recession accelerated by the collapse of the oil and gas sector has really glutted the supply chain with the components I need. There won’t be any material delays and, as I expected, I have an unlimited supply of welders to start work.... Here are the costs, split in three delivery timeframes. Plan A”—he slid the price quote to Sven—“has the shortest delivery schedule. It’s pretty expensive because of the overtime labor and the freight premium. I can understand if you want to go with one of the other options—”

  “Jeffrey, I’m only interested in Plan A.”

  Jeffrey’s eyes widened. “Wow, great! Once I have a letter of commitment—”

  Sven slid over two copies of a written contract with a blank price, then leaned over and on both copies filled in the price of Plan A, and signed them.

  Jeffrey beamed as he countersigned both copies. His heart pounded with excitement with the knowledge he had never landed a contract with so much potential profit. His assumption in drafting options was that after a couple days to consider the project scale Sven would start haggling, so Jeffrey had padded some cost categories.

  “I assume you’ll call your office and tell them to start immediately.” Sven smiled as Jeffrey was putting his signed copy in his briefcase.

  “Ah, of course, Sven. I’ve already told the material suppliers to get their materials ready. I can call my foreman and some guys now to get the ball rolling. We’ll start fabrication first thing in the morning.”

  “Any problems, you contact me first, got it Jeffrey?”

  “You bet!” He quick-paced it out of Sven’s office, pulling his cell phone out as he walked.

  The intercom buzzed an hour later. Darla announced with slight amusement, “Sven, the shipping agent’s here.” Sven breathed in deeply. “Send him in.”

  “I’ll send her in.”

  An attractive woman walked in. “Mr. Johansson, my name in Tanya Smith.”

  “Come in.” Sven sized her up. She’s probably mid-30s, 5’10”, great figure, long straight hair, likely bleached, and she’s got a vampish look.

  She closed the door behind her, “I hear you need the best.”

  He groaned. I don’t need an incompetent tramp agent wasting my time. Too often companies put attractive woman into sales as eye candy to seduce lonely managers into buying inferior products or services.

  He pointed at the chair to sit. “First off, what makes you the best?”

  “In the 12 years I’ve worked for the best Bay Area shipping agency, I’ve never failed a client in getting his product to the destination, at the time he wanted, and in top condition.”

  “Strong claims.”

  “Here are my references. Please call any of them.” She put a three page list on his desk.

  “How about your clients you didn’t list?”

  “Talk to my office. The list has every one of my past clients...no exceptions.”

  “I’ll check. How much do you know about Snath Genetics?”

  “I know who you are, what you produce, and your global market. I also know you’re cocky, demanding, and a perfectionist. Your expectations are illustrated by you wanting someone to come in on a holiday, which I don’t mind, just so you know. You have a reputation for putting the ends ahead of the means…as do I.”

  He leaned back in his chair and started reevaluating her. She intrigued him.

  Tanya continued. “I wouldn’t waste your time or mine if I didn’t know I’m the best person to meet your needs. Do we have a deal?”

  He motioned her to the conference table. “Let’s move to the table and talk. First, sign this confidentiality agreement.”

  She did so without hesitation.

  He showed her the extremely complex schedule he needed followed, while not revealing his true intent.

  “I can say the routes you want are extremely inefficient and time consuming. Everything you
propose will cost a lot more...” She looked at his smug expression. “But you knew that already...so I won’t ask why.”

  “A point in your favor,” he said cockily.

  “I see the list as something to be conquered.”

  “So we’ve established you like challenges.” He grinned while re-evaluating her.

  She smiled at his interest. “Assuming you want the containers at specified locations and times, I can make some suggestions to improve the success rate. I want to brief you on some international shipping rule changes that might affect your goals.”

  “Please do.”

  Three hours later, she bundled up the maps, list of ports of debarkation, required routes, transfer points, and shipping specifications. The unlimited budget particularly surprised her. She had been all-business throughout the meeting.

  He touched the intercom. “Darla. Cancel the other shipping agent appointments.”

  “As I thought, Sir,” Darla said bemusedly.

  “You can take off the rest of the day.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” She clicked off.

  “You’ve impressed me, Tanya.”

  “Just doing my job, despite the apparent distraction,” Tanya said.

  “Distraction?” His brow furrowed.

  She swept her right hand from her head to her legs. “More times than I like to recount, my appearance has lost me clients because of their prejudice against attractive women.”

  “Rather self-confident aren’t you?” he raised an eyebrow.

  She grinned back at him. “No more than you are about your own success, appearance, and power.”

  “Well put. I think we’ll get along great.” He nodded satisfaction and winked.

  “Mr. Johansson—”

  “Sven,” he corrected her.

  “Sven…don’t confuse my professional work with my social life. If we date, it will be on my terms. Understand?”

  Sven was visibly taken aback, then started laughing. “Got it. Now I know why my secretary was so humored.... How about eight tonight.”

  “Sorry, working. I’ve now got a demanding client who needs my undistracted attention.” Her expression stayed stern. “How tomorrow evening at seven?”