Three Degrees: Book 1, The Tempestas Series

by Jim Wurst

  Rajabov’s country was about to empty.

  He, his family and the remnants of their village were packing up the last of their belongings. As least their journey was short. Only a few mountain-passes to Kyrgyzstan. Most people wanted to go there. China wouldn’t let them. No one wanted to go to Afghanistan. Since a land crossing was the only option, that left Turkmenistan and Kyrgyzstan. His family had ethnic ties to Kyrgyzstan, so it was an obvious choice.

  They were not the best trucks, but they were all that were available. They were among the few diesel trucks left. For all the advances in technology, the worst terrain was still too much for anything but the lumbering polluting monsters. It was the final kick that the Rajabov family’s last breath of Tajik air would be loaded with diesel fumes.

  CHAPTER 56

  The campaign planned Lilly’s rallies in as academic-like settings as possible. Her singular value was to motivate the people whose votes would be most difficult to steal. She stood at a podium made of a translucent and bullet-proof polymer. Several dignitaries are sitting behind her. Behind them a full wall projection of US and New Mexico flags. It was not a stadium, but a lecture hall. Lilly spoke without passion but with conviction, addressing the audience, connecting with them personally, more like an inspiring professor than a rousing politician. Rousing crowds were not the goal, even if the visuals would ever really get out.

  … “‘There is nothing new under the sun.’ I never fully understood why people embrace that line. In the original context, it’s clear that the author of Ecclesiastes was not a pessimist, throwing up his hands over the puny existence of humans and of our inevitable irrelevance, but a meditation on reason, contrasting the existing with the potential. But people still use it in a literal sense, free of context, a cosmic shrug. Is there ‘nothing new under the sun’? Is there anything that is not new? Under the sun, under the sea, even under the Moon. Core samples just this past year show three possible new elements on the Moon. One so far labeled only M-12, the 12th new substance identified on the Moon shows properties of being a metal of enormous strength and flexibility. If it exists in abundance, it could revolutionize manufacturing even space travel. More than one hundred years ago, Bertrand Russell wrote, ‘Science may set limits to knowledge, but should not set limits to imagination.’ Marie Curie wrote, ‘Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.’ This is an accurate interpretation of Ecclesiastes, the realization of potential.

  “Aldous Huxley revitalized a phrase, but again the original context meant something else. ‘Brave New World.’ Huxley’s brave new world was a horror, the phrase clearly ironic. Because as Shakespeare wrote it, it was a cry of discovery, full of wonder, even innocence: ‘How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world/ That hath such people in’t!’ That wonder should still be with us, because, after all the horror and pain of the past decades, this is still a world with people such as ourselves. It is past time to reclaim the phrase from irony and despair and proclaim it as a badge of honor this is a brave, new world, and it is a wonder still that it has such as ourselves!

  “Thank you. May God bless and keep you and bless the United States of America.”

  The applause would have made a university professor proud. Any other political candidate would have slouched out of the room defeated.

  CHAPTER 57

  Like all indigenous peoples, the Dyak did their best to survive and adapt in a world they did not create. Like most indigenous villages in the 2050s, this Dyak settlement maintained obvious traditions of dress, tools, diet, houses and mixed with modern facilities. Here, most of the houses were at least partially made from concrete and there is a solar tower/radio transmitter near the center that provided power to the homes and wells and let them communicate with the outside world. That “outside world” part didn’t interest them much except for the doctor, who made a regular “visit” to the village. Three men approached the outskirts of the village. Ethnically, they belonged to these islands, but the clothes and especially the weapons truly identified them: poachers.

  The leader, burlier than the other two, silently signaled them and they split up, looking for windows of opportunity. With a whistle from the leader, the three charged out of the bush and grabbed the closest child they could find. A shot fired into the air punctured the screams of children. Immediately the other children ran away, some adults ran towards the captives while other men and women poured out of their houses carrying rifles.

  “Everyone out into the center! Bring all your phones and weapons! Pile them at the tower! Do it now or we shoot!”

  Everyone froze with their weapons pointed in dangerous directions. The poachers could have shot the children then, but then they would have been shot without their bargaining chips. The poachers weren’t here for children. There were a few precious moments to find out what they wanted.

  An elderly man, clearly the village elder, walked straight towards the leader. Following one step behind him was a muscular young man, likely the elder’s son. Both were unarmed and strode straight towards the lead poacher.

  Facing each other without blinking, the two sized up the other. Neither was bluffing. With a hand gesture to his son, the young man signaled the others. They dropped weapons, and villagers disappeared into their houses and brought out guns, computers and phones and piled them at the base of the tower.

  Still unblinking, the poacher said, “If we searched your houses, would we find more guns? Would we have to kill a few children?”

  “They know what I told them to do. What do you want?”

  “Where is the place the government calls Station G4?”

  “That means nothing to us.”

  “It’s an orangutan station near the Tarakan River.”

  “It’s a hundred kilometers northwest of here. If you leave that way, after 40 kilometers you reach the river. Follow it upstream to the Song bridge. The orangutan camp is another 20 after that.”

  “Very good. Very smart.”

  The poachers pushed the children to the ground. While one threw a grenade at the tower, the others fired into the air. The tower and equipment erupted into a fireball as the villagers scrambled. The poachers disappeared in the panic.

  It was too late in the day to cover 40 kilometers before night, so the poachers’ immediate goal was to put as much distance between them and the village as possible. Trotting quickly in single file over the barely visible path they were, children of the jungle they covered the first ten clicks in less than an hour. A drink of water, a bite of dried fish, a consultation with the compass, and they were ready to move on. Suddenly one poacher cried in pain and fell to the ground, clawing at his neck. The other two dropped into a defensive position as several Nyak led by the elder’s son emerged from the trees armed with the one weapon the poachers forgot to consider blow pipes. The poison in the dart had already immobilized the first poacher. After realizing what they were facing, the other two fired wildly at the invisible men in the trees and started running. The second poacher dropped to the ground in pain. Without looking back, the now troop-less leader ran deep into the woods, far off the path. He had an hour before nightfall.

  CHAPTER 58

  The Isla Floreana had a landing pad but Sanjeet insisted on going by boat. He never flew among the islands. This was the best island for underwater life fish, sea lions, even coral. There was little by way of scientific equipment on Sanjeet’s boat, this dive wasn’t for science. Wearing only swimsuits, the pair clearly knew their bodies well. They put on masks, snorkels and fins. One set of scuba gear laid unused on the deck. The canopy of solar panels both powered the boat and shielded the humans and gear from the elements.

  “So, when can we take a vacation together?” she asked.

  “What are you talking about? This is one of the greatest places in the world!”

  “Va-ca-tion. As in away from
work. Like New Zealand, or Mexico, or hold your breath in Europe. We have water in Europe too, you know.”

  “We were together in Malaysia last year.”

  “That was a conference. God, you’re doing this on purpose.”

  “Doing what?” he teased.

  “Let’s dive. That way you can’t talk. And I do want to use the tanks at some point today. You know I can’t hold my breath as long as you.”

  “Suit yourself, but that makes you more machine than human.”

  “It keeps me alive, thank you very much.”

  What they saw underwater gave them some comfort. Pushing out of their minds the knowledge of what they had lost, they focused on what remained. The fish stock was reasonably healthy, even a few sea lions zoomed around them. They dove towards the coral. Elsa wanted to believe that she saw a few hopefuls’ new white outcroppings among the brown amputations but wasn’t sure if she should ask Sanjeet. They held hands as they swam, with a hand occasionally stroking a back or inner thigh, sending an electric tingle through the salt water. Then Sanjeet dove even deeper, teasing Elsa to follow. She didn’t. Instead, she headed for the surface. She knew he would have to follow her, eventually. Once they were back in the boat, exhausted and thrilled, they kissed wet and deep.

  Sanjeet wrapped his fingers in her soaked hair. “And you want to go somewhere else.”

  CHAPTER 59

  The Lopez household was more nervous than usual. She wasn’t there yet. It wasn’t her fault; she told them they should come to the rally, meet Dr. McDowell, get out of the house. No, we’ll wait. Mrs. Lopez re-fluffed pillows and re-rearranged knickknacks while Mr. Lopez, pretended she wasn’t doing it.

  Finally, the door opened, and Elena walked in.

  “Oh, thank God. What took you so long?”

  “Mami,” Elena said through the chocking embrace, “I just can’t walk away. I had to stay until Dr. McDowell didn’t need me anymore.”

  “Let the girl sit down.”

  “Are you ready to eat? Dinner is ready. Are you eating well?”

  “I live in Washington, yes, I eat well.”

  “But not fresh tortillas. Sit down, you look tired.”

  Trying to steer the conversation, Mr. Lopez said, “The campaign seems to be going well.”

  Exhaling, she said, “Yes, the rally in town was very successful. We’re still behind, of course, but we are chipping away at several districts, especially in Texas and the Plains the cities, mostly.”

  Mrs. Lopez couldn’t even pretend that politics interested her at the moment. “Go wash up for dinner.”

  “I’d like to see Papi first.”

  Embarrassed that they hadn’t thought of that, Mr. Lopez said, “Of course.” Then in the hope of softening the blow. “He’s not doing especially well.”

  “I saw the videos, I know.”

  Never convincing, Mrs. Lopez said, “But we’re sure you’ll get through to him.”

  “Sure.”

  Elena walked in quietly, as if she were preparing for confession. A penitent, she hadn’t been in this room for over a year. She sat down in the chair near her grandfather, put on latex gloves and held his hand. She looked to the monitor to see if there was any reaction. Of course, there wasn’t.

  “Papi, it’s me, Elenita. I finally made it home. I’ve seen all the videos Mami sent, and I know she’s been showing you the videos from the campaign. Senator Cranston sends his prayers. How about that, Papi? The next president of the United States is asking after you. He says one of the first things he will do as president is give all you guys another medal. How about that? Maybe you can even meet him.” There weren’t too many words left blocking the tears. “Would you like that?”

  Finally, to herself as much as to him: “Te quiero mucho, Papi.”

  CHAPTER 60

  Ruth was worried. Jamal had never called her in from the field before. Not only was it important that she and the apes direct the research with minimal interference, but also that she loved this, so Jamal was loathed to break in. But he had, so Ruth had to assume something had gone wrong.

  He was sitting at the computer bank. For once, the main screen focused on a satellite map of their region and not on Rabu. Ruth immediately noticed that deep in the jungle a red blip was flashing. She hadn’t even sat down when Jamal, pointing at the blip, said, “We have a report of a radio tower being destroyed in a Nyak village about 100 clicks southeast from us. There’s been no severe weather or earthquake that could account for it. It’s most likely the poachers trying to prevent the Nyak from reporting their movements.”

  “Why should they give away their position by destroying the transmitter?”

  “Maybe they thought they were hiding their position, preventing the Nyak from warning us. They didn’t know the towers have an automated distress signal.”

  Ruth enlarged the map so that the red blip was in the lower right corner of the screen and their base in the upper left. “It’s not very rough terrain between here and there. They could easily do this on foot in two, three days. They would most likely have to cross the Song bridge, could they be intercepted there?”

  “We don’t have the troops for that. HQ won’t agree, and I can’t send my own men and leave the station at risk. Besides, there are several spots where the river isn’t that deep. They are just as likely to cross there than at the most obvious place.”

  The two contemplated their dwindling choices. “We must bring the family in,” said Jamal.

  “No, the whole point of our work is to reintegrate them into their natural environment. That’ll never work if we keep snatching them away. Besides, the poachers would just look for someone else.”

  “Your alternative?”

  The choices had truly dwindled. “I guess I will need a refresher course with that rifle.”

  CHAPTER 61

  Sanjeet and Elsa weren’t alone this time. They had gotten to Isla San Isabela by boat, but Elsa’s team insisted on flying since they had all their equipment and the spot Sanjeet had selected was on a cliff. Marta and Pol had no interest in hauling everything off a boat and up a mountain. Elsa and Sanjeet walked along the cliff, from where they could see other islands in the archipelago as the crew unpacked.

  Looking over a panorama that caught most of the islands to the east, Elsa asked, “Do you want to do the interview here?”

  “Yes, this is it.”

  Elsa set up two folding chairs for them so that the late afternoon sun would not be in their eyes, but the background would be as expansive as possible. Marta and Pol set up, pinned mikes on the pair, and Elsa began.

  “Just so our viewers know,” Elsa began, “I’m not blindsiding you with these questions – you’ve already agreed to speak about your personal life. In fact, this was your idea.”

  “That’s right. We all have our stories, but I thought your audience would be interested in how I arrived here.”

  “I was born on Fiji in 2018, part of the last generation born on the island. By the time I was born, most of the climate change deniers had quieted down, the sea levels were rising and changes in oceanic and atmospheric temperatures were making matters worse. Stronger storms at unpredictable times, loss of fishing stocks, sea water intruding onto freshwater reserves. And of course, once we understood the full impact of the Tipping Point, the efforts that should have been several decades earlier began in for earnest. And too late, of course, especially for the island people. Fijians started migrating gradually, some to other small islands, most to the mainland or the larger islands like Australia and New Zealand. The tsunami of 2031 sealed the fate of Fiji and many of the people. My family emigrated to New Zealand the next year. Fiji is now on average eight centimeters below sea level.

  “Ever since the warnings started going out some 80 years ago, we were told that the first national victims of climate change would be the small
island states. The combination of sea level rises, extreme weather, loss of fish would doom the most vulnerable islands. And that’s what happened. Fiji, Tuvalu, the Marianas and some other Pacific islands were among the first. That Ring of the Fallen at the UN you know that circle of flags permanently at half-mast for the nations that have disappeared, Fiji was the third flag raised.

  “I emigrated to New Zealand and studied oceanography and marine biology, a pretty obvious choice. I worked on the Mediterranean Basin Project for a few years, but really, I belong to the Pacific Ocean. This ocean is my lifeblood, my parents and grandparents, and we have wounded the largest body of water in the world most grievously. My life is science, but it is also penance to apologize to the Ocean and to repair what I can.”

  “And why the Galapagos?”

  “There’s the obvious reason: it is unique and one of the most endangered ecosystems on the planet. Preserving it even regenerating it is one of the highest aspirations of humanity.”

  “You talk about the Ocean, these islands, nature as if they were human. Not very scientific.”

  “What could be more scientific than understanding that the world is alive? Treat her as the living organism she is. If all you see is water, rocks and carbon-based life forms, you don’t truly understand what is happening. Meaning you can never cure her. The most destructive thing a person can do to the planet and to themselves is to act as if there is a disconnect between the human and natural world. That arrogance helped get us to this state; understanding what it truly means to be a part of the world is a step out of this. That is a fact, and what is science if not facts?”