Prologue
Denver, CO, September 2017
Dr. Thomas Burns could
not believe what he was hearing. He was sitting in a restaurant with his
eight-year-old son Sam after attending a baseball game. The Colorado Rockies
had just defeated the New York Mets by a score of eight to six. They were
discussing the various players on the team. That was until the president
started talking.
Listening intently to
every word President Trump said on CNN, the environmental scientist shook his
head several times. He’s appealing to every gawker of developers and
brand-loving radicals rolling everything back—radicals who want to de-regulate,
de-environment, just de-anything—and it was deflating, thought Dr. Burns.
Decades of work falling apart for a new consensus, it seemed. Depressing.
Not only was the
president waging a permanent delay of just about everything, while making money
for his backers, but he was hoping people were going to do nothing about it. He
was buying time for some of his obscenely wealthy investors and developers;
that was all. They somehow pinned their losses in the previous years from
failed deals and investments on anyone but themselves, despite how their
investments were only about money, not about the major concerns of the times
everywhere you looked. Having had a great outing with his son only moments ago,
Dr. Burns fumed as he sat there.
The president was like
the suits many in the rural parts of the Dakotas, Tennessee, and his home state
of Colorado worried about. They were all caught up in their excesses, mindless
to what life outside their air-conditioned life was like. Who cared how his
message on TV was going to benefit neglected areas? He just expected people to
deal with it. Except, this time, this suit, staring at Dr. Burns on the
high-definition TV screen, was the one barreling his way at anyone who gave him
a microphone like a dusted wagon train full of barons with money bags who
pulled into town. And he’d be building what he knew best, a wall of heat for
struggling people. They were less interested in tackling the daily concerns in
their lives, finding no areas of concern in common.
Dr. Burns shook his head
again. And the environment was a no-brainer!
Sam looked up at him
momentarily, and Dr. Burns gave a half-reassuring smile. Sam returned his
attention to his cell phone.
The president was
unconcerned about whatever no man’s land was left in his wake of ruin while he
doled out skepticism and disparaging comments when people needed reassurances
and to feel confidence that the authorities were doing their best to keep them
safe and secure. In the old Wild West, they used to blame the Yankee, wondering
if somebody up in the skyscrapers meant them more harm than good. They just
wanted the top suite.
Dr. Burns couldn’t stop
looking from the TV to his son. He felt like he was falling into an abyss when
he should have been feeling like he was there to share a moment of joy with his
son.
He stood up, and despite
his tall stature—he’d almost made it to varsity baseball years ago at six feet,
two inches tall—he felt powerless. It was time to put the agreed-upon plan into
action—at full speed. First, he gave his son some ice cream and told him to
stay seated across from him, take out his Game Boy, and put his ear buds in, as
he did not want Sam to be concerned about what he was going to discuss with
everyone. He pulled out his phone and dialed a group text number, the specific
code setting of a meeting of his peers. Tom raked his hands through his solid
black hair, practically pulling strands out as he waited impatiently for
everyone involved in the meeting.
Within five minutes, all of his colleagues around the world were on FaceTime.
He’d been selective about which colleagues from Russia, Germany, Australia and
America he involved in preparing the mission. Several of them had worked with
him on projects at Boeing and others he had met at conferences around the world
that had brought his attention to the staggeringly slow pace of applied
research. He knew immediately what he wanted to say to the thirty people he’d
reached. He trusted them. He sat back down as they met and discussed their
plans.
Members from these four
countries were going to be the first ones involved because they understood that
to do nothing would ensure the end of the human race. These thirty people were
the most esteemed researchers in their field of expertise. They published
nearly 500 research papers researching climate warming and various
environmental issues as well as future space travel. Russia as the leader in
space travel was an obvious choice. Germany had some of the leading engineers
in the world. Australians had suffered a great number of environmental
disasters such as a deteriorating Great Barrier Reef and also had a large
number of excellent engineers.
Tom, despite his anguish, spoke calmly. “I hope everyone was watching the
president’s disgusting speech. Obviously, he is not going to listen to any
environmental scientists or reports. We have no choice but to go ahead with our
agreed upon plan. It is full steam ahead. We will have to speed everything up.
Based on the environmental evidence and facts, the human race probably has 200
years—or less—to live. To survive, we need to find a new planet.”
Several of his
colleagues made comments agreeing with Dr. Burns. They all agreed they would go
home and start implementing the agreed upon plans.
With that, he ended the FaceTime meeting. He felt a spectrum of emotions
including betrayal by the president’s actions and fear for his children’s
future and the future of everyone else. He had hoped his family could grow up
to lead normal lives, go to college, marry, have children and choose a career
for themselves without worrying about the environmental disasters that were
sure to take place. He also felt bad for just about everyone alive and every
person yet to be born. Most people were going to face terrible hardships just
trying to survive. Most of all, he felt determined.
He and Sam walked toward the exit. Tom waved goodbye to the woman behind the
counter.
As his son closed the
door behind them to the restaurant, Tom felt the cool night air, hoping his son
wasn’t too cold given the temperature had fallen quickly. It was September and
although it had been a mild seventy-five degrees at Coors Field, they had to
walk a block to get to their car. He didn’t want to embarrass his son, so he
just put his arm around him to keep him warmer. Sam didn’t protest thankfully.
As they made their way
to their car, Tom couldn’t help but look at Sam’s baseball glove that Sam held
loosely in his hands. He’d given the glove to Sam after his son refused to use
his old worn-out one. Tom had used that glove as a teenager when he was about
Sam’s age. He laughed to himself when he remembered Sam’s look on his face as
he stared at Tom’s old glove. It seemed so important to him to give it to Sam,
but Sam wanted his own glove.
Tom knew that Sam had
loved the game that afternoon. Sam had a fantastic baseball card collection and
recited stats that baffled Tom, who also felt proud of his son for knowing and
memorizing all kinds of stats. Seemed like the type of thing kids should be
worried about in high school, not what was weighing on Tom’s mind. Tom shook
away a bunch of thoughts. He still wanted to look like he was enjoying himself
after he and Sam had watched their favorite team win and ate at their favorite
restaurant. But that damn television and the news. He was overcome with concern
and resentment, knowing that his son’s future was going to be nothing like his
own.
Sam said, “You know my
good friend Kory just made varsity, and I heard that there were even some top
university recruits watching. I hope when I get to high school, I’ll play that
well.”
Tom stared at Sam
momentarily, masking the welled-up feeling of regret and sorrow that threatened
to silence him, before he said, “Sam, you’re going to play with the best.”
He unlocked the car
door, and they headed toward Interstate 70. All the while, Tom was glad that he
had reached an agreement with his colleagues that there would be no more
delays, no matter what lay ahead.
And so, it began.
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