leaders are now saying, grandfather? In answer to the growing tension and the increasing conflict that is obvious to everyone? The bastards now say they recognise a problem so will increase funds for the ISEP - the International Space Exploration Project. Can you believe that, grandfather? They have decided the time has come to tap the moon and Mars and other planets for fresh resources and to fund inter-planetary communities to travel across space for many generations in stations with artificial sun, gravity and climate suitable for growing plants just as on earth? But we've already run out of time here."
His grandfather was well aware of ideas that had been around for fifty years and knew the recent controversy about the project that had been on hold for twenty years. He removed his arm from his grandson's shoulders.
"Yes, I have been following the discussions. Having already ruined the environment on earth, they belatedly accept the need to address the depletion of earth's natural resources. It is a cruel diversion. It is a deliberate tactic to give hope that things, as always, will only get better - a selfish affront to compassion."
"Is that what it is, grandfather? An affront to compassion?"
"Yes, because by the time they are able to return new resources to this earth or move a few thousand pioneers to live on another planet, the 12 billion here will, in theory at least, have increased to 20 billion and the mass extinction of thousands of animals, birds, insects and probably humans will continue.
"So what will save us?"
"Well," 'The Professor' said, shaking his head. "Do not expect someone to arrive in your midst, to wave a magic wand and put everything right. It is too late now and so will never happen. It is you and your friends who need to act. If urban fighting spreads, it will be like no other war in history. But that, in my opinion, is when a real decision maker may arrive on the scene. Mark my words. It will be someone just like the ones that have gone before - a self serving individual seeking fame and prestige and with a vision of going down in history as the saviour of the human race. But be aware. This leader may show his ultimate leadership qualities merely by the pressing of a red button."
His grandson looked shocked.
"Do you really believe that might happen?"
The old man shrugged. "Yes, it is very likely. And why? Because it is now too late for a planned, controlled reduction in population, someone, somewhere might decide to go for mass extermination. Let's not forget that selective extermination has been tried before so humans are well capable of it. But you must decide what to do. Whatever you decide you must break out of the cage, battle to regain your life and, if necessary, die in the process."
"Will I have to kill, grandfather?"
"Do you feel you are slowly dying living in an overcrowded cage?"
"Yes."
"No animal, human or otherwise, should be forced to live like that. You must do whatever is needed to break free."
The younger man's eyes were filling with tears that then mixed with the rain that ran down his face. He trembled but said nothing. His grandfather nodded and then paused, deep in thought.
"It is hard but the decision is still yours. Either you fight, lose and die or you fight, win and live. Or you decide, like so many of your young friends, that the problem is so insoluble that you no longer have the desire to merely add to the problem."
His grandson slowly looked towards him. "What will you do, grandfather? You live in a cage within a cage."
"That is true, but when the time comes, when I feel I have done as much as I am able and before I become a burden on others then I will seek help or do whatever is necessary, just like your great grandmother."
The younger man stared at his grandfather.
"No, you cannot, you mustn't."
"Why not? In fact, it may come sooner than expected. As of today, I believe I have probably done as much as I can. Talking to you has proved it. I believe I still have most of my faculties and my body is still holding up, but I have probably exhausted my contributions. That it made no difference is something I regret, but the fact that I died still trying is fulfilling enough."
"But you will never be a burden."
"Ah, yes. Defining whether one is or is not a burden was another lengthy conversation I had with your great grandmother. Together we imagined a nest of twelve billion ants. Can you imagine 12 billion? It is a huge, almost unimaginable number, but as with a human population of 12 billion, only twenty percent are productive. The others are eggs, old ants, sick ants and dying ants or male and female ants who take flight occasionally to go messing around and mating, but invariably get caught and eaten by others. So of the 12 billion ants it is only 4 billion who contribute to secure the survival of the other 8 billion and build the nest that survives as their contribution and ultimate legacy. But, whatever their contribution, all 12 billion eventually die and their bodies go to feed other forms of life - bacteria, fungi, plants, animals.
"And it is exactly the same in a population of 12 billion humans with 20 percent supporting the 80 percent. Whichever you are - contributor or recipient - close friends or relatives might miss you for a short while. Otherwise it is only what you contribute during your life that remains behind. And much of that is, regretfully, insignificant in the scale of time. I fully accept my insignificance. Most people have forgotten me already. But just remember this: Matter is never destroyed, it just gets altered, redistributed. When I die and am cremated, the atoms that go to make up my body will still be around somewhere."
He paused and, for the first time, laughed. "I can live with that."
He then glanced over towards the administration block and nudged his grandson's elbow.
"But my time is up in more ways than one. My friend the warden from Block 36 is approaching. Can you see him? Do you like his uniform? His shiny boots? The way he walks close to the wall to avoid getting his cap wet? Does he remind you of anyone from history?"
The warden arrived, panting.
"Ah, Professor. Your hour's up I'm afraid. In fact because I could see from the office window you were having a good chat I gave you more than your set allowance."
"You see?" the old man said to his grandson. "Even in this cage within a cage, we are only given enough time and space to walk around it once in a day."
"I'll sign your visitor out Professor. They leave the same way they arrive."
"As we all do, warden, as we all do. That's life."
"Will your grandson be coming again?"
"I don't know, warden. Perhaps."
"Then say your goodbyes."
The older man took his grandson's cold hand and shook it. The younger man, still with tears in his eyes, looked wet, cold and unhappy.
"Goodbye. I hope I have been of some help but I somehow doubt it. Perhaps I have made it even more difficult for you, but I would like to think you have at least inherited an ability of this old scientist to draw a conclusion and make a clear cut decision. I trust you make the right one. Thanks for coming to see me."
The younger man nodded and hugged his grandfather, but said nothing.
"This way, son. You know your way back, Professor. I'll see to the young man."
So saying, the warden walked off with 'The Professor's' grandson. "Nice drop of rain. Had a good hour? Nice old fellow. I call him the Professor. Keeps himself to himself. Doesn't say a lot. Doesn't mix with the others either. He writes stuff."
The "Professor" returned to his cell and lay on the bed, thinking.
Had he said the right things? Said enough? Helped?
There was a knock on his cell door and it opened. It was the warden again, breathless, his cap in his hand, his uniform wet with rain.
"Professor, come quickly. It's your grandson. I took him to the gate. I showed him the bus stop. He said nothing. I watched him go across the road and then I saw him take something from the trash bin by the bus stop. It was a gun, Professor. He must have put it there before he arrived because we search all the visitors. He shot himself. In the pouring rain. He j
ust put it to his head and shot himself. There was a loud bang. I ran over. He was lying on the wet grass. He was still alive but he only lasted a few seconds. He looked up at me and said, 'Say thank you to my grandfather. He was always right.' And then his head fell back and hit the road. He's dead, Professor."
THE END
'Whistleblower'
Huge amounts of international aid money are being stolen by those at the heart of the political establishment. Ex politician, Jim Smith, threatened and harassed into fleeing abroad for accusations of fraud secretly returns to renew his campaign. An epic thriller covering events in the USA, Europe, Africa, the Middle East and Asia about a stubborn man refusing to fit into any stereotype.
Published December 2014.
'The Malthus Pandemic'
Daniel Capelli is a private investigator of international commercial crime.
Armed with an unusually vague remit from a new client - an American biotechnology company - to investigate the theft of valuable research material but motivated by a private desire to see his Thai girlfriend, Anna, he travels to Bangkok and rapidly discovers that several scientists - all virologists - have also disappeared.
One of them, David Solomon, is an internationally acclaimed expert on viruses and known for extreme views on the need for direct action to reduce the world's population. Suspecting a plot to create a pandemic