Chapter 31
Vince wiped at his face, at a grin spreading through his being—Brad contagion but more. His gaze drifted beyond the pool as he sipped at his morning cup of Ténéré dark. He caught himself at times waving at any unseen drone spy, knowing full well of the Hellblazers above. This time in Niger stood in such stark contrast to his chemical engineering past.
Back and forth to Agadez each week over the last three, twice with Brad, once alone, they were getting that latest sulphur release lifted above the weather zone. Routine engineering procedures or not, the underlying purpose now had him wrapped in its grasp. A shivering thrill swirled in with fear ran up his spine day in and day out, reminding him of his daughter’s storybook hero discovering what she was born to do.
Most sulphur would drift at a slow pace north, cooling the Niger Sahara as a thin solar management parasol began shading the sands below. As the sky blue faded around space station astronauts, the desert would transition to the green color of life and they should notice. Soon. And along with the planetary tint transition, that something else inside him had found its true color.
Lately, he couldn’t keep hypothetical scenarios out of his mind. For what real purpose, or optional purposes, would the HICCC calculate a Sahel regional or a global plan? To be able to bluff politically made sense, kinda. That Niamey release was clearly for show, to appease the growing angst of Nigeriens and get them politically onside with their president. But now, Agadez. The real tonnage required to bump the volume up to required engineering specs was mostly hidden from the public eye. Whatever the strategy, much Nigerien national sulphur was now working on the laws of physics up in the stratosphere.
Process in place, they had but to wait. Was the known chemical time delay calculated into political strategy? As Tami said, it took weeks just for nature to convert sulphur dioxide and water into the form of the light scattering aerosol. Release elevations selected by Tami’s consultancy, the bottom of the stratosphere, would mix with enough weather zone to wash out before reaching the Mediterranean, and then Europe. Mostly. Still, there was nothing now but a pass-the-time game before measurable effects would appear, and those measurements would take months, and then years. The political effects were a different question; he’d heard Tami’s repetition of how, having dissimilar agendas, physics don’t negotiate with politics.
The question now was why he and Brad and Jeri didn’t have plane tickets yet…they should be on their way back home. Another possibility then and he could only guess, but his and Brad’s numbers could be providing the HICCC another alternative. The consortium needed the engineering to expand to a larger scenario, so the Nigerien project could have an impact on a larger part of the Sahara. That mid-Atlantic release? No way. With the Nigerien sulphur spreading east and west along the Sahel were they worried about neighbouring Chad and Mali? Mid-desert national borders of Algeria and Libya to the north would be breached, but mid-Sahara, who would notice? Where the sulphur spread was based on high elevation winds and risk analysis. Then, he speculated, from all other things going on they’d most likely been calculating that global scenario for solid practical reasons, like an engineer would. Not just to publish for someone like the IPCCC. But politically? A global release? Absolutely not. It had to be that Atlantic release, to get the monsoon coming farther in over the desert sands. As it was, the regional plan would cool the desert in the winter only, a more limited effect the model runs showed.
On that map hanging on the meeting room wall, he’d lately seen arrows sketched in over the ocean. Were those wind and current directions? Or weather pattern movements in some Jeri Tami discussion? He knew the sulphur target zone to be out in the middle of the Atlantic. Tami said to increase the West African monsoon, to truly bring back the Green Sahara, a real boost would be to engineer a significant cooling effect over the mid-Atlantic. Engineering planetary tilt to increase insolation—to have the sun positioned more directly overhead—well, the thought alone rang obtuse. But that natural tilt had heated and greened the desert for the Dabous giraffes, Tami said. So strategically, they could leave the Nigerien Sahara summer sands hot and cool the Atlantic. If they kept the winter Sahel release going as they had it now—that fit as an extension of their current plan.
The heat didn’t have influence so much as the temperature contrast between the Sahara and equatorial Atlantic. That he now knew, the temperature differential would bring in more monsoon. Cooling one was the same as heating the other. Most effective to cool the ocean when the Sahara was naturally at its hottest, during summer. Were they here to cool the mid-Atlantic?
He rose, wandering over to the shade of a swaying palm. So weird, counterintuitive, but more summer heat in the desert sucked in more rain off the ocean. Bigger temperature and humidity contrast made for a bigger vacuum effect on the rain clouds. Aircraft, not balloons, worked better for the mid-Atlantic release—he’d have to chat with Brad more.
He couldn’t keep a dreamy thought from slipping in. Would not a Green Sahara be good for everyone, for the whole world? To engineer a bread basket out of what were now essentially uninhabited sand dunes? Aahil, his cousin, and their tribal desert tradition might be lost…or would they rejoice? Presidential support was there, no question.
Asia showed an ever growing interest in a Green Sahara. Aahil had been talking to his cousins, Brad said. Asians were actively speculating land deals on the sand dunes around Agadez. The Chinese may have subsidized biochar for agriculture, that looking acceptable in the public eye, but a bigger monsoon in the background would certainly help that biochar effect. Really in the end, Tami said, the Chinese monsoon was reducing in size due to carbon-warming, giving China a rice growing problem. They might want data on a monsoon modification trial. The Chinese would be keeping an eye too on enhanced food production in a place like the sulphur-cooled Sahara. How many Chinese could be planning to immigrate to the newly greened Sahara to set up shop? Or political negotiators signing long term trade agreements on a potentially huge food export market.
He pulled his Jeenyus, checking messages.
The last kwikgram from Annalise wondered about the color of the sky. What color to make it in her drawing, and if she should get a new pencil crayon. Looking up at the sky and wiping at his eyes he took a resolute breath. She’d been going with mommy on house shopping expeditions, and they spent a lot of time at granpa’s house. At Rocky Vew. Mommy really likes to look at lots of houses. Hr favrit size is big. She wantz a house like granpa. I miss you daddy. Wen will you com home? Another house the size of his father’s was just what his daughter’s future did not need. Goddam it. That’s not gonna happen, not if he can influence.
Walking back under the parasol, he sat back in his chair. He tossed his Jeenyus onto the table before him with a clatter, and let his head drop into both hands.
To drop out of the insanity of the baby boomer mentality, his father’s outlook and the lifestyle ideals that came along. He had to. To redefine what it meant to be prosperous—his wife would never get that. But he didn’t need to be his father’s son, to play a cast role. Could be nothing but a good personal move, even if he was to join the many divorced. Something else he’d have to explain to his daughter later, so many trade-offs in life. So much more he could do at this professional level, even if he ended up talking to his daughter through a Holo-Skype cube and kwikgram a whole lot more. Even back in Calgary. Yeah, even if his father decided to add a department of atmospheric sulphur to GeoChem, that still wouldn’t cut it. He had to find a new way.
He held his eyes closed for a moment. Based on their ground actions so far, the HICCC was not bluffing. And this whole game was deadly serious, not only for their client. Who knew politically? Like Tami, he would follow this new feels-right lead. He would do what was right. A career change had been looming for ages, well, that would begin now. Back home oil patch work was out. Forever, as Annalise would say. And something else would fall into place—the next short time would tell.