"And your specialty?"
"Glaciology."
"Your present assignment?"
"I have been appointed by the President of the World Council to head up
Project Ice Thaw."
"Which is?"
"A program of weather control to combat the extensive glaciation
threatening to plunge the Earth into another ice age. We meet next
month in New San Francisco to get final approval on a plan of action."
"And if the project fails?" asked the tall man.
"Catastrophe."
"Clench your fingers," said the shorter man.
Chandler could feel the energy pulse from his brain to his fingers.
"Blink your eyes."
He did so.
"Sit up."
Stiffly he obeyed.
"What manner of creature are you?" asked the tall man.
Something whirred deep in the recesses of Chandler's mind. "A man," he
said at last. But he knew he was not.
The tall man depressed a series of buttons on a master control panel.
There was a rushing in Chandler's ears, a blurring before his eyes.
The voice of the shorter man floated across a gray void.
"Clench your fingers," it said. "Blink your eyes."
The odd sensation passed and Paul Chandler found himself looking
into the eyes of Marta Neilson. She half stood at the far end of the
conference table.
"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked.
"Just a moment's dizziness," he said, "It's gone now."
Marta, partially reassured, sat down again.
* * * * *
As Chandler poured himself a glass of water, he studied her clean
features as he would a mathematical problem in topology. Add in her
blue eyes and white skin, subtract her hair pulled back in a severe bun
and her lack of makeup, and she approached the Swedish ideal of beauty.
Her natural magnetism and physical attractions had always stirred an
emotion in Chandler, but, strangely enough, not now. She smiled and,
automatically, he returned the smile.
"Mr. Chairman." The delegate from Canada frowned at Chandler. "We've
debated the problem of causes for nearly two hours and seem to have
reached an impasse."
A lean Britisher pushed his chair back. "If you were to solicit my
opinion, I'd say we'd reached an impasse before we entered this room."
A stocky Russian with weathered features shot a glance at the
Englishman. "Was that remark directed at me?"
"I was under the impression," returned the Englishman, "that we
were here to determine an immediate course of action. My government
instructed me to work to that end. I do not know what your instructions
were."
"My dear Dr. White--" the Russian began, but Chandler's gavel rapped
firmly on the table.
"Surely," he said, "Professor Kotenko is willing to concede that a cold
climate is not enough in itself to cause glaciation."
"I did not mean to imply that it was."
"There must be snowfall, and snowfall demands a source," Chandler
continued.
"And that source is the Arctic Ocean," the Britisher threw in.
The Russian stood up. "Gentlemen," he said, "would you undo a century
and a half of Soviet weather control? Would you destroy the Bering
Strait Dam and the North Atlantic pumping stations?"
Dr. White stood up to face Kotenko. "If it would stop that infernal ice
sheet, yes, by God!"
"It is easy for you to talk," the Russian fired back. "It is not
British science that is being impugned."
"And it's not Soviet territory that's being threatened."
"A tribute to Soviet science," the Russian replied, smiling.
The Englishman's neck reddened.
* * * * *
Chandler rapped his gavel again. All eyes turned his way.
"We want Soviet and British science working hand-in-hand with the rest
of us on this project. Anything less might spell disaster."
A murmur of approval greeted his words and the Englishman sat down.
Professor Kotenko remained standing.
"You have the Soviet plan before you," he directed at Chandler.
"I've read it," said Chandler, glancing down at the document neatly
bound in manuscript covers. "An interesting idea--increasing the
greenhouse effect by adding carbon dioxide to the upper atmosphere.
But the amount that could be added would only raise the temperature
by a few degrees. Since snowfall increases considerably at the warmer
temperatures close to the freezing point, we would only be compounding
our problem."
Kotenko's features stiffened. "The plan also includes changing the
albedo of the ice by coating it with coal dust. Not only would this
raise the mean temperature, it would melt the--"
"What happens when it snows over your precious coal dust?" the
Britisher cut in.
"We are suggesting a continuous dusting program." The Russian took his
seat.
"The plan is not without merit," Chandler said. "However, we've
received almost as many plans as there are members on this commission."
"Why not try all of them?" asked the Indonesian delegate.
"Or, at least, a program involving several," Marta Neilson modified.
"Atomic heat and possibly infra-red radiation."
"We can't spread our efforts that thin," Chandler explained to the
young woman. "Any one of these plans demands a concentration of money
and effort such as the world has never known."
"And one thing strikes me," Dr. White put in. "None of these plans hits
at the basic cause. They all treat symptoms, save for the Canadian
proposal, which is quite out of the question."
"Are you getting back to freezing the Arctic Ocean again?" Kotenko
challenged.
"One X-bomb on the Bering Strait Dam," the Englishman said.
"My dear Dr. White," returned the Russian, "the X-factor is best left
under international ban."
* * * * *
The Englishman turned to the Canadian delegate. "Is it? Perhaps this
is the time to screen your stop-motion studies of the destruction of
Ottawa."
"What purpose could that possibly serve?" Kotenko protested. "We've all
seen the glacier first-hand."
"It might well underscore the need for more action and less talk."
"Then," said the Indian delegate, "by all means, let's see them." Again
there was a murmur of approval.
As the delegates rearranged their chairs to face the view-wall at the
far end of the conference room, the Canadian pushed a button on a
control console in front of him. The room lights dimmed.
"This study was recorded at the rate of one frame a day by the Canadian
Glacial Control Commission. Tonight it will be released over the World
Video Network. While everyone has seen pictures of what is happening in
Ottawa, nothing quite so dramatic as this has been shown." He pushed
another button.
The wall disappeared and Chandler felt he was actually looking across
the rooftops of Ottawa, once the capital of Canada. At the edge of the
business district loomed a massive wall of gray ice. It was pushing a
ridge of boulders and dirt before it as it bore down on the city.
The scene dissolved to a closer view of the glacier. As Chandler
watched, fascinated, the glacier ground the city under like a huge
bulldozer. And still it came on and, for a moment, looked as if it
might flow right into the conference room.
The lights came up and the wall became whole again. A few delegates
swiveled their chairs back to the table; others continued gazing at the
wall.
"Now," said the Canadian, "you can see why our plan calls for a
dramatic approach."
"Tilting the Earth on its axis is quite out of the question," Dr. White
said. "But freezing the Arctic and removing the source of the snow is
practical."
"And time-consuming," the Canadian added.
But Chandler wasn't listening. A sudden dizziness swept over him. He
felt strangely detached.
"I don't think we're capable of reversing the warm currents flowing
into the Arctic," he found himself saying. "The Bering Strait Dam is
one thing, but a dam across the North Atlantic...."
"Then what have you in mind?" asked the Russian.
"How would you react to a little suggestion of my own?" Again all eyes
were on him. "Suppose we were to tap the heat right from the Earth's
core?"
The reaction was dead silence. Finally the Englishman spoke.
"Mr. Chairman, in one breath you suggest the impracticability of
damming off the waters of the Atlantic, and in the next you suggest
drilling into the depths of the Earth!"
"Surely you are jesting," the Russian added. "Why not tilt the Earth,
as the Canadians suggest, if we must lean to the sensational?"
"If I were not acquainted with your reputation, Dr. Chandler," the man
from India said, "I would not for a moment entertain such a thought."
"Possibly," said the Englishman, "you mean pockets of magma near the
surface."
"I mean the core itself," Chandler insisted.
"Gentlemen," Marta Neilson said. "As you know, I have been working
rather closely with Dr. Chandler on the plans that have been suggested.
However, tapping the core comes as a surprise even to me. But because
I am acquainted not only with his reputation"--she acknowledged the
Hindu with a nod--"but with his ability as well, I move that we allow
Dr. Chandler to pick a committee to consider the feasibility and the
consequences of such a plan."
"And what sort of magical drill is going to accomplish this?" the
Russian demanded.
"The edge of the core is 1,800 miles down--" the Englishman started to
say.
Chandler rapped his gavel once. "I believe there is a motion before
us," he said.
* * * * *
Unlike the days before the threat of avalanches, the tubeway over
the Sierra Nevada range was not heavily traveled. Twice in the past
year avalanches had dislodged the tube, once resulting in a number of
deaths--something that hadn't happened on American highways for nearly
fifty years. But it was the most direct route to the Detroit Glacier
Control Center.
"I'm not sure you made a wise choice in Kotenko," Marta said. She sat
next to Chandler on the rear observation deck, occupying Professor
Kotenko's seat while he chose to mingle with the passengers in the main
lounge.
"Why?" asked Chandler.
"Well, I'm not much of a politician." She glanced around before
continuing. "It'll be another century before Europe forgets World War
III. Maybe you thought Kotenko's selection would appease the Eastern
Union or maybe you were simply trying to get him out of the role of
principal opponent, but--"
"I picked him because I needed him."