Vapor (18 page)

“What kind of experiment is that?”

She exhaled. “The largest one of all time.”

My gaze narrowed.

“CN-46 is really a tightly-wound package of modified chemicals in aerosol form.”

I recalled what Beverly had told me about the disc-shaped particles. “Let me guess. Each CN-46 compound has a layer of aluminum on one side and a layer of barium titanate on the other one.”

Her eyes widened. “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

She gave me a curious look. “After delivery, a disc’s lighter aluminum side flips upward. Sunlight strikes the shiny surface and two things happen as a result. First, a process—I think it’s called photophoresis—causes the disc to basically levitate in the upper atmosphere. Second, it reflects sunlight away from Earth. With enough CN-46, Simona can actually cause a global dimming effect. Sort of like what happens during a massive volcanic eruption.”

“She’s trying to duplicate the effects of an eruption?” I asked incredulously. “Why?”

“Simona is conducting a massive geoengineering project.” She paused. “In other words, she’s manipulating the climate on a planetary scale.”

“Geoengineering?” My mind twisted in disbelief. “But why would Simona want to change the climate?”

“I think she believes the experts are right. Namely, that climate change is real and presents a danger to humanity.” Carrie took a breath. “There are three ways to deal with climate change. First, we mitigate it. That is, we limit its magnitude and range by reducing greenhouse gas emissions or by building out carbon sinks to remove carbon dioxide from the air. Second, we adapt to it. We accept climate change is a foregone conclusion and work on limiting its negative effects. Or third, we shield ourselves from it. That’s what experts call geoengineering.”

“How can a bunch of chemicals shield us from climate change?”

“It’s called solar radiation management. Like I said, CN-46 reflects sunrays back into space. Less sunlight means less warming.”

“And that really works?”

“The theory is sound. Most geoengineering experts advocate depositing sulfur-based particles into the stratosphere. In that layer, the particles react with water, which causes them to block sunlight. But CN-46 is an extremely advanced piece of technology. It allows Simona to shield much more sunlight with far fewer particles.” Carrie shrugged. “Even so, it’s more of a bandage than a fix. It wouldn’t do anything to reduce greenhouse gases in the atmosphere. So, things like ocean acidification would remain an issue.”

Geoengineering.

I mulled over the revelation. It answered some of my questions, but not all of them. For instance, why had Simona sought out the reliquary? And why had Eco-Trek kidnapped homeless people from Saipan?

Something clicked inside my brain. “Have you ever heard of the ‘Year Without a Summer’?”

She shook her head.

History was a passion of mine. But not the usual history taught in school. No, I preferred its mysterious, dark corners. I liked to explore taboo subjects, to question so-called truths. And a little digging revealed much of what modern society believed was patently false. The Wild West really wasn’t all that wild. The Federal Reserve, widely respected as an upstanding institution, had been established in a real-life conspiracy. And the atomic bombs, often viewed as the last shots of World War II, were more accurately described as the first shots of the Cold War.

“In 1815, Mount Tambora erupted in Indonesia,” I said. “It was the largest eruption in recorded history and spewed tons of volcanic ash and sulfur into the stratosphere. The sun’s rays were reflected back to space and global temperatures dropped by an average of about one degree Fahrenheit.”

She nodded. “That’s exactly what Simona is trying to do, only through artificial means.”

“And unfortunately, with similar side-effects. Do you know what happened during the ‘Year Without a Summer’?”

Carrie shook her head.

“In 1816, Crops failed and a massive famine took hold over parts of the world. Food shortages led to riots and even a typhus epidemic in Ireland. At the same time, giant storms occurred. Flooding increased.” I frowned. “There were cultural effects, too. Spectacular sunsets became commonplace. Thousands of people, wiped out by crop losses in New England, headed west in search of better growing conditions. That included Joseph Smith, who ended up in the middle of the ‘Second Great Awakening’ and later went on to found Mormonism. I could go on and on. Hell, even Mary Shelley’s
Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus
and John Polidori’s
The Vampyre
can be traced to the phenomenon.”

She looked surprised. “All that from just one degree of temperature change?”

“One
average
degree of temperature change. Some places were impacted more than others. Regardless, even a little less sunlight can cause a lot of damage.”

“Wait.” A look of horror crossed her visage. “Are you trying to tell me Simona might be behind all of the strange global weather phenomena? The droughts? The deluges?”

“It looks like it. She might be fighting climate change, but she’s causing a lot of damage in the process.”

Carrie tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. “Why’d it take so long?” she said after a moment.

“What are you talking about?”

“You said the eruption took place in 1815. But the side effects weren’t felt until 1816.”

“The climate is a complex system. It takes time for things to unwind. Plus, I don’t think the stratosphere gets a lot of rain. Anything that gets into it can stay there for a long time.”

“So, today’s droughts and floods were set in stone months ago.” Her face twisted in thought. “Is winning the war on climate change worth all this collateral damage?”

“Not to me.” I paused. “So, how does Simona do it? I get the theory, but how does she put it into practice?”

“With hard science,” Carrie replied. “She created a program called
Eco-Trek PKGCM
to model the global climate now and into the future.
PKGCM
stands for
Predictive Knowledge Global Climate Model
. It receives constant data feeds from all over the world. It uses that data to constantly update itself as well as its projections on how the climate will change going forward. In other words, it’s a process of constant refinement and perfection. At any given time, the model can predict how CN-46 aerosols, deposited anywhere above Earth, will impact future climate factors. This allows Simona’s experts to choose the optimal locations for dispersals.”

“So, the model is built on data? Isn’t that just data mining?”

“Yes, but I think Simona considers the lack of theory to be an advantage. I can’t say I blame her. The climate isn’t full of simple, cause-and-effect relationships. Rather, variables interact with each other in dynamic ways. They’re probably impossible to understand from a theory-based approach. But a data-based approach? Well, that opens up lots of new opportunities.”

I frowned.

“Simona’s model filters out the noise from thousands of data streams and establishes relationships between them. And since those connections are dynamic, it continuously updates and refines itself with new data streams, taking great care not to over fit the data. The end result is a dynamic optimal complex model. It may not be able to explain the climate in ways we would understand, but it can still mimic and predict it.”

“But data mining has drawbacks. Connections might be coincidental, rather than causal.”

“Maybe you’re right.” She shrugged. “I’m not an expert. Everything I know comes from documents I stole off of Eco-Trek’s servers.”

I recalled what Beverly had told me about the nanomaterials. “Why are there so many different nanomaterials inside the CN-46 discs?”

“Actually, there’s just one. Each core consists entirely of engineered aluminum.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Not totally.” She cocked her head. “Why?”

“Beverly collected materials left by one of Simona’s planes,” I replied. “A lab analyzed them for us and found tiny disc-like structures. Each disc was bounded by metallic layers and contained a core of various nanomaterials.”

“That’s interesting. I didn’t see anything about other nanomaterials in the documentation.” Her face twisted in thought. “Simona uses a complicated system to track the CN-46 deposits. Maybe the nanomaterials have something to do with that.”

“Maybe.” I rubbed my jaw. “Can you think of any reason why Simona’s scientists would engineer CN-46 to degrade over a period of time?”

“From what I understand, the discs disintegrate due to UV radiation and interactions with oxygen radicals. I believe it’s a safety feature, designed to keep the particles from becoming a permanent fixture in the atmosphere.”

Another question popped into my brain. “How does Eco-Trek sustain itself?”

Carrie cocked her head.

“Drones, fuel, computing, personnel … it can’t be cheap.”

“I never got a chance to track down funding sources.”

“Okay, here’s another question. Why is Simona doing this?”

She shrugged. “For the greater good?”

“Her planes killed dozens of people in Israel. Her goons kidnapped homeless people. They attacked Benigno’s boat. They chased you. They shot our helicopter out of the sky.”

“I suppose she’s trying to keep this a secret. If people learned she was manipulating the climate, they’d shut her down.”

“I guess that makes sense. But how do the kidnappings fit in to her plans?”

“I don’t know yet.” Carrie waited a few seconds. “I don’t know if I should admire Simona or hate her. On one hand, she’s fighting climate change. On the other hand, she’s clearly hurting people.”

I knew how she felt. Simona’s geoengineering project gave her an incredible amount of power over the climate as well as over all of humanity. What gave her the right to wield that kind of power? And was she wielding it in a moral fashion? Was reducing climate change worth the nasty side effects? Was the greater good really all that good? Or was it something else?

Something evil.

The woman rubbed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then she took two uneven steps and pitched forward, landing hard on her knees. She stretched out her hand, reaching for her daughter.

The little girl, about eight years old, slid to the nearest corner. Terrified, she watched her mother collapse on the concrete floor.

One the other side of the large one-way glass window, Simona Wolcott sipped her coffee. Cocking her head, she watched the life drain out of the poor woman. Then she glanced at the file in her lap. The woman was named Rowena. She was homeless. Her life, like so many others, had been nothing but a burden on the planet.

Simona shifted her gaze to the other isolation chambers. Men, women, and children, carefully selected by age, ethnicity, and other factors, sat quietly on concrete floors. Some chambers were full of people. Others contained just a single person. A few of the subjects appeared quite sick. Others, like Rowena’s daughter, were in perfect health.

Simona turned her attention to another glass enclosure just as a man crumpled to the ground. For a moment, he barely moved, caught between agonizing life and certain death. Tears welled up in his eyes as the chamber’s other occupants backed away.

Dr. Mychelle Besson, outfitted in a white lab coat, strolled past Simona. Carefully, she recorded observations on a long notepad.

Simona glanced back at the first chamber. A door swung open on the opposite side. Four people, clad in white hazmat suits, entered the space. They herded the daughter to the opposite end of the chamber. Then they gathered up Rowena and removed her from the area.

“Counting those two people, we’ve lost five of the forty-eight original subjects.” Mychelle cleared her throat. “The others will live, but with compromised immune systems.”

“How compromised?” Simona asked.

“If allowed back into society, I estimate an additional twenty people would die within six months, all from simple diseases.”

Simona nodded, impressed. “That’s in-line with your original estimates.”

Mychelle nodded.

“Any concerns?”

With a broad smile, she shook her head. “I don’t want to sound over-optimistic. But Miasma continues to act exactly as expected. I think we can safely move on to the next step.”

Simona took a deep breath, allowing the truth to wash over her. To bathe her in its wonderful waters. “You expect production to take four hours, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Very good.” Simona stared at the chambers. Years of labor and effort had led her to this exact moment. Now, she was ready to make the final push. “Initiate production of Miasma.”

The ground was bone dry. A light wind swept against it, kicking dirt into the air. Thunder cracked in the distance. Dark clouds covered the evening sky.

Taking a deep breath, I clambered out of the fissure. Standing up, I took a few deep breaths. Dust grated against my lungs. The air felt unbearably warm. Sweat began to ooze out of my dirt-clogged pores.

Graham crawled out of the fissure. Pulling up his pant leg, he took a few moments to brush particles out of his artificial joints. From all appearances, the day of rest had done him good.

I scanned the area for paw prints. But time and wind had erased them from existence. Turning to the fissure, I saw cracks and deep puncture marks. The Grueler, whatever it was, was extremely powerful.

After everyone had crawled outside, I cleared my throat. “We’re circling west to Pagan Bay. Keep quiet and stay low. Any questions?”

Heads shook from side to side.

“When we reach the bay, we need time to study the station, ideally from a safe distance.” I glanced at Benigno. “Think you can find us a place?”

He nodded. “Sure can.”

Akolo raised his hand. “What if we see the Grueler?”

“Run.” My gaze hardened. “Run like hell.”

I drew my pistol from its holster. Unsheathed my machete. Weapons in hand, I walked up the hill facing the fissure. Setting a southwestwardly course, I began crossing the arid terrain.

After a short walk, I noticed Graham keeping pace with me. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

He grinned. “How do I look?”

“Like crap.”

He chuckled.

I hesitated for a moment. “So, my dad used to travel with you?”

Graham nodded. “Sure did.”

“Why? I mean he wasn’t an adventurer. He was a real estate tycoon.”

“True, but real estate wasn’t his entire life. He loved the outdoors. In fact, I’d say he preferred it to the boardroom, although he would’ve never admitted that to anyone.”

I nodded.

“You remind me of him,” Graham said. “In a lot of ways.”

My mouth twitched. For whatever reason, a surge of guilt swept through me. “Is that right?”

“He was smart and stubborn as hell, same as you. He even possessed the same skill set. But while you were born for this life, his true expertise was in the art of the deal. So, you’re similar to him.” He shrugged. “But still very different.”

You’re not your father.

It wasn’t exactly a stunning revelation. But even so, it struck my outer surface like a cannonball. My heart pounded as the truth sunk in, all the way to my soul.

Steeling my emotions, I began to move more cautiously, taking care to avoid twigs and dry leaves. We passed through several gullies, retracing our steps. Finally, we climbed a small hill and paused at the top.

Donning my goggles, I switched on the night-vision. Air left my lips as I saw scattered bones and gory remains. The creature hadn’t just killed Stevens.

It had ripped him to pieces.

As I scanned the carcass, I noticed plenty of fleshy material. Why hadn’t the Grueler eaten its victim? Was it some kind of trap? Was the Grueler waiting nearby, hoping to snag additional prey?

I studied the surroundings, searching for paw prints, scat, and other signs of life. But I saw nothing.

“How’s it look?” Beverly asked.

“Clear,” I replied.

Slowly, I descended the hill. As I passed between leafless tree trunks, I cast a wary eye on the area.

Where the hell are you?

A gust of wind swept through the gully. It struck Stevens’ rib cage, causing small pieces of it to break away. Dirt kicked upward, soared around for a few seconds, and then dropped to the earth, partially covering the bones in the process.

I winced. Did he have family or friends? Were they starting to get worried? Had they gone looking for him?

Graham shook his head. “I wonder how Pagan got this way.”

“What way?” Beverly asked.

“Like hell.” Graham swept his hand in an arc, encompassing everything in sight. “The Grueler. Dead trees. Dry soil.”

“I don’t know about the Grueler, but the rest is probably due to CN-46,” she replied. “Simona’s drone sprayed a lot of land trying to kill us. And I’d be willing to bet she’s ordered similar attacks on other people in the past.”

“I suppose that makes sense. But then why didn’t she use CN-46 on the Pagan Nation?”

“Maybe she had something else in mind for them.”

While they talked, I fell to the dirt. For a couple of minutes, I dug a substantial hole in the soil. Then I used my boot to push Stevens’ remains into the hole.

Graham saw something in my face. “You okay?”

I nodded. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense?”

“The body. It’s all here, limbs and everything. I don’t even see teeth marks. It’s like the Grueler just killed him for sport.”

“Animals do that, you know. It’s called surplus killing.”

I hiked to a large stone. Picking it up, I hefted it to the makeshift grave. Carefully, I placed it on top of Stevens’ remains. Then I stepped back and bowed my head.

A twig snapped. Blood pumped through my veins. My gaze shot to the north. A large shadowy figure, cloaked in swirling dust, stood on the far end of the gully. A familiar hissing noise rang out, grating my ears.

“It’s the Grueler,” I shouted. “Run!”