She let the feelings spill over her, warming her, evening her out. Bilious clouds filled the sky, running tapes of Nation of Islam supporters being arrested by the G just outside the beefed-up security checkpoints into East LA. Below, Burt Hill was supervising the setup of a buffet under a large awning for the returning team. There was also a bar, a small aid station, and a stage for a press conference.
Sumi would skip the press this time. All she wanted to do was unbind and hide under the covers in the loft bed. She drank from the dorph again. Maybe today, for once, she could lose herself in bliss.
Chapter 7: Big Bangs
THE FOUNDATION
3 SEPTEMBER 2024, 3:45 P.M.
A condor flew high above the defensive perimeter of the Crane Foundation. Keeping lone watch over the intruder alarms and electromagnetic jammers, the compound and its occupants, the bird circled and swooped endlessly, perched and glided continuously. The condor’s sleek beauty was surpassed only by its complexity, for it was completely electronic and its ganglia were connected directly into the brain of Mohammed Ishmael. Fitting, he thought, that a huge black American vulture should be his spy from above. Soon, if all went as he believed it would, he’d have another spy, almost as reliable, within the Foundation itself.
In Brother Ishmael’s opinion, Lewis Crane needed careful watching, for he was the only person on the planet who presented a serious threat to him. Crane challenged Brother Ishmael’s apocalyptic vision of the world. He’d known the first moment he’d set eyes on Crane that somehow their fates were linked and, so, it did not trouble him overmuch that his intense preoccupation with the man and the work of his foundation might be entirely irrational, wholly personal… and far too time-consuming. It was necessary, though he could not be at all certain why or how.
The eyes of the condor zoomed in on the helo landing zone near the primary building in the Foundation complex. Crane called it “the mosque,” which did not amuse Brother Ishmael at all, though it did amuse him considerably to note that the guests arriving at this minute had been at the meeting at sea in June. Everyone had been invited back except him. He threw back his head and laughed.
Lanie King was spectacular in every way, Crane thought as he looked around the central lab or, as he was encouraging everyone to call it now, the globe room. The last three months Lanie had proved herself time and time again. She lived computers, breathed them… and she wholeheartedly shared his goal for the globe. She’d hired the programmers, moved them out of the dank back rooms and into the main room so they could be close to the object of their work and appreciate at all times the immensity of the project. Good management that, Crane reflected.
The only thing with which he was dissatisfied was his public role. He ricocheted from one performance to the next… song-and-dance man, comic, P.T. Barnum and Cecil B. deMille. By nature introverted, he was depleted by these performances, though he doubted anyone guessed how much they took out of him. This little show today was one of the most crucial of his career. The politicos and money people wanted to see progress; most importantly, Li demanded a quake, and by God he was pretty sure he had one to deliver.
The work of Newcombe and Lanie showed that ground-based radon levels were up by nearly thirty percent all through the Mississippi Valley. Electromagnetic charges were also occurring in the region. Both phenomena possibly came from fault-line stress on rocks: When rocks cracked, radon escaped; when they fractured, they allowed electricity to flow more easily through ground water. Precursors. Probably.
In July, Lanie’s computers had used the seismic gap theory of rate of return to predict a major quake on the New Madrid fault line in Missouri. The last big one there had occurred in 1812. He was going to tell all his guests about that historic quake as a preview of coming attractions. His divided soul felt glee and despondency. He needed the quake to go on with his work and, ultimately, save millions of lives. He felt utter dejection, deep grief at the thought of a quake along the 120-mile New Madrid fault line which could destroy everything from Little Rock to Chicago—including Memphis, St. Louis, Natchez. He needed to be right; he hoped he would be wrong… at least about the extent of the devastation.
He looked around the dramatically lighted room. A small stand of plush stadium seating had been built near the front doors for the VIPs. They were there, chatting and drinking Sumi’s enhanced champagne. Even Mr. Li seemed in good spirits, as did Vice President Gabler, sans wife today, and President Gideon. How these people could be so cheerful was beyond Crane. There had been riots for the last two months in the War Zones, backing the NOI demand for a homeland. Heightened security and the curtailment of food shipments were doing little to keep the occupied territories in line. The Islamic fundamentalists in Paris, Lisbon, Algiers, and London supported their American brethren with rioting. Boycotts of Liang Int products were forcing Mr. Li to capitulate in many areas, particularly relenting on withholding food.
A new sex plague was sweeping the Indian subcontinent, once more confounding dire predictions of overpopulation. Genetic plagues and antibiotic-resistant strains of viruses and bacteria—as well as the ancient enemy of mankind, famine—were proving the Malthusians wrong every day. The food supply was dismal. Very little grew well in the wild anymore; the UV bleaching of crops destroyed everything that wasn’t grown beneath the cheap sunshields developed under exclusive patent by Yo-Yu, Liang’s major competitor.
In July the President had announced that the government—that is, Liang Int—was funding a major study into the possibility of ozone regeneration, prompting Yo-Yu officials to accuse the administration of attempting to destroy competitive marketing by attacking them directly on the sunblock and sunshield fronts. They called the government study “political terrorism.” Crane could only shake his head at the antics of Man. In opposition to the antics of Nature, however, he was prepared to act… even now. He stepped up onto the platform where Lanie sat at a computer console and Newcombe at the long table with imbedded microphones that projected even a speaker’s whisper through the vast room.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his voice godlike and booming theatrically from dozens of speakers burrowed into the walls.
The room darkened. Crane waited until his audience grew silent, then said simply, “The universe.”
Brilliant light flashed for ten seconds. “The universe,” Crane continued, “began with a clap of hydrogen and helium, vomiting fiery matter at fantastic speeds in all directions.”
The globe burst into holoprojection flame, vibrant reds and yellows swirled about the globe. “Our planet was born into fire about 4.5 billion years ago. Spinning, its contracting clouds of dusts and gases gradually congealed.” The globe changed as Crane spoke, holographically showing the formation of the planet from gas to solid. The massive scale of the sphere and the changes it demonstrated overwhelmed the people sitting in the darkness. Crane could hear their appreciative muttering.
“At first we were a planet of molten rock. Slowly, the heavier elements, nickel and iron, settled into a dense inner core. Some of the lighter rocky materials, such as basalt and granite, melted, floated upward, and cooled into a thin crust. There was mantle around the core.”
Lanie’s fingers flew over the keys of her computer, and the globe projection transmogrified into a barren, rocky sphere.
“Then it began to rain….”
Thunder reverberated through the room. Holo rain fell on the globe from dense clouds filled with lightning.
“It rained for thousands of years until the planet was covered completely by water. At last the sky cleared.”
The globe became a ball of spinning water.
“Cooling at a leisurely pace, the water evaporating, the planet developed land, floating land.”
Continental chunks appeared on Lanie’s globe, all of them slowly navigating the water world. Everyone watched, rapt, as the continental masses moved toward the equator, finally joining together in a mammoth, still-barren supercontinent.
&nbs
p; “Pangaea,” Crane said, “Greek for ‘all lands,’ the starting point for the world we know today. The breakup of Pangaea due to unknown forces, probably convection, brought volcanoes—and the gases of the volcanoes brought the beginning of biological life.” Crane paused. “And the breakup of Pangaea brought earthquakes.”
Crane looked down at Lanie. “Program the last New Madrid quake into the globe,” he said quietly. Newcombe scribbled on a piece of paper, and Lanie hurried to her programmers. She needed more input than she could manage alone to pull this off. Newcombe held up the paper. It read: Don’t stick your neck out! Crane merely shook his head, smiling wryly.
When Lanie signaled that she and her crew were ready, Crane said, “I call your attention to the United States and the Mississippi River.” All the lights went out except for one spot, focused on Middle America.
“It is May of 1811,” Crane went on. “The rainfall is bad this spring and rivers overflow. Although people hear a lot of thunder, they note that, strangely, there is no lightning. In the fall, the citizens of New Madrid, in southeast Missouri near the border with Kentucky and Tennessee, are surprised to find tens of thousands of squirrels leaving their forest homes and moving in phalanxes to the Ohio River where they drown themselves. In September, the Great Comet of 1811 passes overhead, shedding a brilliant and eerie glow over the forests—an omen to many.”
Crane walked slowly down the stairs. The globe was no longer spinning, but had stopped before the grandstand, showcasing the Mississippi Valley.
“America is a lawless frontier. Tecumseh rules the Indian tribes near New Madrid and all through the fall leads many a battle against the forces of General William Henry Harrison. Pirates and robbers ply their trade on the river, forcing cargo boat captains to form convoys for mutual protection. But in the early morning hours of December 16, a Monday, all that becomes secondary.”
Crane stepped into the spotlight. “At 2 A.M., Hell comes for a visit.”
A loud crack echoed through the room as a huge scar appeared on the globe. “The ground shakes violently, knocking down log houses. A hideous roar, mixed with hissing and a shrill whistling sound, emanates from the ground which opens. Noxious sulfurous odors envelop the surviving settlers. Flashes of light burst from the ground as it rolls. The ground erupts like a volcano, spraying water, rock, sand, and coal as high as the treetops. Twenty-six of these events occur during this one night. Horrendous. But only foreshocks. The twenty-seventh is the day of the quake and its power is felt in thirty states. Entire forests are leveled. The ground sinks, reforming itself, as huge fissures open up, swallowing everything. The Mississippi River reroutes hundreds of times; caught in huge groundswells, it turns into a nightmare of whirlpools and waterfalls, killing everything alive on the river. At one point it flows upstream. As the banks collapse, the river rises, flooding the whole valley, drowning anything not already dead.
“In Jackson, Mississippi, fifty miles from the epicenter, trees snap and buildings fall. In St. Louis, far upriver, lightning shoots up from the ground, chimneys topple, houses split in two. A thick haze envelops the city for days. Ruin is extensive in Arkansas. Memphis is devastated by landslides. As far away as Nashville, buildings rumble and quake. A lake just north of Detroit bubbles like a boiling pot. The shocks are felt heavily in Richmond and in Washington, D.C. The statehouse in Raleigh, North Carolina, is rocked during a late-night legislative session. In Charleston, the church bells clang and residents experience nausea from shaking.”
Lighted branches on the globe extended out from the quake zone to include most of the United States.
“What has this to do with us, doctor?” Li called.
“A great deal, Mr. Li, because our calculations indicate that another major quake on the New Madrid fault line is years overdue. Many of the precursors of such an EQ are already in place and we are attempting to pinpoint an exact time for this catastrophe. Dr. Newcombe, do you have anything to add?”
Newcombe sat for a moment. He wasn’t sure it was time to sound the alarm, but he couldn’t very well keep silent after Crane’s presentation.
“The Rocky Mountains tend to soak up western quakes,” he said at last. “Any quake to their east is going to be devastating. Our initial findings put the death toll at over three million people and the damages somewhere in the vicinity of two hundred and fifty billion dollars. The inherent chaos would affect the country’s ability to provide goods and services well beyond the quake areas and onto the international stage. The blow to the economy might doom it, and the country might never recover, much as Great Britain was unable to recover from its Twentieth Century wars.”
The entire room fell into a deep, hushed silence. Newcombe took a long breath. “Does that answer your question, Mr. Li?” he asked without rancor.
Crane liked the looks of President Gideon. His concern seemed genuine and he gazed into your eyes when he talked to you. He had an air of command about him that the Vice President lacked. Of course, that didn’t make him any more autonomous than Gabler, just easier to deal with.
“I hope you were merely trying to scare us all, Dr. Crane,” Gideon said, a drink firmly lodged in his hand. “I surely don’t know that I would want to preside over a disaster as all-encompassing as the one you describe.”
Mr. Li, standing beside Gideon, leaned up close to the President. “The good doctor doesn’t have that kind of a sense of humor,” he said. “I think he truly believes the prediction he made today.”
“I’m not conjuring spells, gentlemen,” Crane said, “if that’s what you mean. We’re merely building a reasonable scientific hypothesis.”
The President cocked his head. “You’re not sure this will occur?”
Crane raised his glass, Burt Hill hurrying over to refill it with bourbon. “Oh, it will occur, Mr. President. The Earth will not be denied.”
“But the timing, Crane.” Li smiled. “This is all about the timing.”
“We’re working on it,” Crane replied, watching both men carefully. “The signs are there. We’re trying to put a date on it now. If the globe were finished—”
“But it’s not,” Gabler said. “And your predictions are so much talk.”
“Like Sado was just talk, Mr. Vice President?” Crane replied, staring the man down. “My team is filled with highly skilled professionals who have spent their entire lives building to this moment. What are your credentials, sir?”
Gabler’s face turned red as Gideon put a hand to his mouth to hide his smile.
“We really must pin this down,” Mr. Li said. “The election is only two months away.”
“I’m doing my best,” Crane said. “To hurry into a wrong prediction wouldn’t do anyone any good.”
“True enough,” Li said. Sumi walked up to pour enhanced champagne into his glass. “Remember that it’s in your best interests to come up with something before election time.”
“Could you see it?” Gideon said, holding his own glass out to Sumi. “We announce, in advance, a major disaster… save millions of lives and billions in property. The Yo-Yu people wouldn’t have a chance.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. President, I fear that precisely the opposite might happen,” Li said, catching Sumi by the arm. “We announce a major disaster, evacuate, shut down factories, protect inventory, only to have it never happen.”
“Bite your tongue,” Gideon said.
“Those are the stakes,” Li said. He turned from the President to Crane, his sober expression changing chameleonlike to one of warm affability. “Is Sumi working out to your satisfaction, Dr. Crane?”
Crane and Sumi shared a smile. “Sumi Chan is the best overseer a project could ask for,” Crane replied. “He’s on site most of the time, understands the priorities, and writes the checks accordingly. A first-rate associate.”
“Excellent,” Li said, smiling broadly. He put an arm around Sumi. “Liang Int could use more men like Sumi. You know, doctor, I’m fascinated by your globe. I have one, too.”
“I’ve heard,” Crane said. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”
Li laughed. “I’m afraid that would be impossible. Regulations, you know.”
“Of course. Sumi, President Gideon seems to have emptied his glass.”
“We can’t have that,” Sumi said, bringing the bottle around to give Gideon a refill. “At the Foundation, no glasses are allowed to go empty.”
Gideon nodded happily. He seemed loose and comfortable, his bodyguards, too, at ease. He raised his glass. “To you, doctor.”
They all drank, then Gideon said, “What are the chances of getting a tour of your facility? I find it amazing. If someone’s free, I’ll—”
“No one knows this place like I do,” Crane said. “Come on. Anybody else interested?”
“You two get acquainted,” Li said. “I have some business to discuss with Mr. Chan.”
“Fair enough,” Crane said, leading Gideon off.
Li turned to Sumi. “How close are they really on this New Madrid thing?” he asked, sharp, the foxlike smile with which he’d gifted the others completely gone now.
Sumi shook her head. “I’m not sure. There’s a lot of information coming in. I know they’ve settled on it, but they’re still in the process of pinning it down. They might find it won’t happen for years.”
Li frowned. “I want them to find a quake that’s going to happen before the election.”
“They can only do what they can do.”
“No, Sumi. They can find a quake—if Crane’s theories are at all on the mark. But to do so, these people must apply themselves to getting what I want—not indulging themselves playing with their data and their toys—” he sneered “—their basic research. Speaking of research, how is yours on Dr. Newcombe? Is his little journey still on for tonight?”