“Interesting,” Crane said, not finding it interesting at all.
“That’s not the juicy part, boss,” Hill returned. “Gideon has appointed Sumi Chan to fill out the term.”
“Sumi?” Crane said, very interested now. “Wonder how they got around the citizenship requirements.”
“Never mind that,” Hill said. “This clinches it. Sumi’s nothing but a traitorous, slimy—”
“I want you to find a private fiber to Sumi,” Crane said. “I want to talk to him. And when you get to him, be sure to give your most hearty congratulations.”
“But he’s—”
“A powerful man who can help us,” Crane interrupted. “Call me back on this fiber.”
He blanked and looked at the console. Over the last year, he’d fed every morsel of info he’d ever learned on the effects of under- and aboveground nuclear testing on faults. By now the globe knew much more than he did.
He typed his question and hit enter.
The globe hesitated only slightly before revealing a series of flashing red lights all over the Earth, Crane running to it to check locations. All the lights were centered on or near rifts. His heart pounded as he counted them—fifty-three.
This was it, the reason for his existence.
He broke down and cried then, not stopping until he had Sumi on the line and more business to be done.
Chapter 12: Continental Drift
THE FOUNDATION
25 FEBRUARY 2025, 7:30 P.M.
Lanie finished the last of her packing, then stepped out onto her porch to watch the final preparations for the pilgrimage to Tennessee. Their condor dropped momentarily into view, Lanie calling to it before it swept past and majestically retreated to higher ground. The sun was gone now, freeing everyone to get out of doors. There were as many as fifty helos, private donations, stacked up on the plain below, being filled with food, water, and medical supplies.
It had been Crane who’d solicited the helos, thinking they might come in handy for evacs and emergency medical. She’d been amazed at how many people still believed in him and were willing to contribute. Besides the supplies, he had a crack medical emergency team in each bird—people, good people, donating their time. Maybe there was hope for the planet after all, she thought.
She saw Dan come out of his chalet, four houses away, carrying his bags. Since the night of the wager, they’d been near strangers. It was amazing how someone who had once been so important to her could simply move into a different role in her mind and heart. She knew that he wanted her to let him back in but, thankfully, he wasn’t pushing it. She did want to be his friend, though, so when he came over, she gave him an affectionate hug. He responded enthusiastically. “I’m sorry I’ve been so standoffish,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”
“The wrong idea,” he echoed.
She watched him compose himself. He leaned on the rail, looking down. Burt Hill was directing the loading-up operations, one of Stoney’s jumbo jets taking the bulk of the Foundation’s gear and personnel. Dan shook his head. “What would we do without Burt?”
“Starve,” she answered, leaning on the rail beside him. “Run out of materials. Chaos would ensue.”
He smiled at her. “Undoubtedly.” His lips tightened. “I’m not even sure what happened between us.”
“You want the truth?”
“I think so.”
“Okay,” she said calmly, although her heart pounded like crazy. “I found myself not trusting you. I found myself noticing jealousy between us. I found myself wanting you to be different. One time you said maybe we were finally growing up. I think that’s what happened. We grew up and apart. Besides, you have a whole different life now.”
“I’d give it up in a minute if—”
“No,” she said, putting her hand over his mouth. “You’d feel trapped and miserable. There’s no hope for it, Dan. We’ve just moved on.”
“I can’t stop loving you,” he said.
She nodded, swallowing hard. “We’ll always have that. Let’s remember it that way.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “I’ll be there for you if you change your mind. Crane can’t make you happy.”
“This has nothing to do with Crane.”
“You need to be needed,” he said. “Maybe Crane needs you more than I do, though I think that’s impossible.”
“I’m not relating to this discussion, Dan.”
“I know.”
“Friends?” she asked, putting out her hand.
She didn’t understand the smile he gave her. “Friendly adversaries,” he said, shaking her hand. “You going below? I need to check my equipment manifest and make sure they got everything.”
“Aren’t you flying down with us?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to spend the night in LA. I’ll meet you on site tomorrow.”
“Then I’ll walk with you.” They moved down the metal stairs, Dan carrying his suitcases, Lanie unsure as to how she felt about the previous conversation. As with most things concerning Dan, nothing ever seemed to be truly settled. And what did he mean by “friendly adversaries”?
“You look tired,” he said. “Having the dreams again?”
“Again? They’ve never stopped.”
She shivered. It had been rough the night before, the worst yet. She could literally feel the fire burning her as it rose from a pit, while Crane kept reaching for her hand. And that boy was there, that dead boy, only he was alive and she feared for him more than for herself. She’d awakened in terror, drenched in sweat at 2 A.M. and hadn’t even considered the notion of going back to sleep.
“Still think it’s connected to Martinique?”
“It’s got to be.”
They walked into the confusion of helos and support personnel, all running human chains as manifest lists were verbally checked off. “Have you ever asked Crane to help you with it?” Newcombe spotted Hill and waved him over. “He was there with you.”
“He always changes the subject,” she said. “And that’s too bad, because I think if I could simply remember Martinique, all the dreams would go away. It’s right there in front of me… yelling at me.”
“What’s up, Doc Dan?” Hill said, winded from exertion.
“I’ve got to go down to the city tonight,” Dan said. “Is it possible?”
“If you’re willin’ to go now, it is. At the moment, I’ve got three dozen pilots standing around with their thumbs up their butts.” He took Dan’s bags. “Something’ll be waitin’ for you on the main pad in about ten minutes.”
“Thanks, Burt.”
“Stay in the shade, Doc.”
They moved on to the mosque. Dan was looking good tonight, wearing all black, a suit with a turtleneck. He looked like the Atlantic City version of Brother Ishmael. She wondered if he were going to the War Zone.
They walked in, then through to her station. They peered through the ahrensglass at the globe. Lanie always was excited when she saw her handiwork alive and pulsating with information. They were running a full slate of programmers tonight who were dumping weather data into the computer.
“Martinique,” she said, her eyes fixated on the globe. “The answer to my memory loss and to the dreams. I must remember what happened… and I think I’m close. It’s like a fog dissipating.” She watched the West Indies slide past, followed Martinique as it turned, saw its volcano.
“Dan,” Crane called down through a new hole in his office wall that let out into the programmers’ area, “I need the EQ-eco on downtown Memphis!”
“I’ll bring it up.” Dan went to his labs.
Lanie drifted toward Crane’s office. Time was such a strange commodity. It had its own organic structure that worked on people without their consent. Like her and Dan. Sumi Chan, for instance, had gone from valued ally to traitor and back again to friend within the space of a few months. As Vice President, he was once again supporting Crane behind the
scenes, and it was support that Crane cheerfully accepted.
She walked into Crane’s office, smiling at all the teevs running his exploits on the walls. He’d been right about the bet. It seemed the entire world was waiting for the events to unwind. It was the money—the bet—right now that counted to the world. Soon, it would be the horror.
“How will they judge me, do you think?” Crane asked her, all but reading her mind.
“Some will blame you. Just like on Sado. Some will praise you, some love you, some hate you. You’ll be a magician and a scientist, a monster and a savior. But none of that matters to you, does it?”
He smiled, his jumpsuit sleeves rolled up as he stuffed a briefcase full of cash. Bail money. “As long as we can keep the funding rolling in, I’m happy,” he said. “People don’t know what’s good for them; they only know what they want. I learned to keep my expectations low a long time ago. It’s good advice for anyone.”
“Dan’s going down the mountain tonight.”
He grimaced but didn’t respond.
Lanie looked through the new window at the globe. “I never get over it,” she said. “The damned thing’s still running.”
“And will continue to,” he said. “King’s Projection will be in use millennia after we’re gone.”
“Unless they come up with something better. Now, why haven’t we taken it any farther forward than February 27th? I’m sure there are other quakes to predict. But we haven’t done it. Why?”
“I’ll tell you why,” Newcombe said from the doorway. “Now that he’s got the power, he’s afraid of it.”
“Not far off,” Crane said, reaching for the printouts in Newcombe’s hand. “I just thought it was time for a little reflection before moving forward. Besides, there’s Memphis….”
He took the schematic Newcombe handed him and stared at it. “Here’s the Memphis jail,” he said. “I’m sure they’ll arrest me and take me here.”
“It’s going to be close,” Newcombe said.
“Yeah. The east side of the building looks like it won’t make it, but the cell blocks are stacked on the west side.”
“That’s a narrow ribbon of safe territory. Too narrow.”
“I trust your calculations.”
“I’m not so sure about the river,” Newcombe said. “I know what will happen to the land around it, but things are going to shift and force it to change course. I’ve got no real eco on that.”
“We’ll take our chances.”
“Will you have access to teev?”
“Yes,” Crane said, Lanie finding herself watching a wall show about the quake on Martinique. As she watched, lights began flashing in her head, recognition. God, she could feel the mud getting through her clothes. She itched.
Crane was still talking, but it was coming to Lanie as something from far away. She held her head, pain flashing. She could feel the scar under her hair, then the heat, the darkness, the overpowering fear of suffocation, the house collapsing all around them, everything else fading away….
Hands shaking her, a distant voice in her ear.
“Dan? Is Dan all right?” she said, but something was wrong. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“Lanie! Get a grip…. Lanie?”
Dan was in front of her. They were in Crane’s office in the Foundation. She was gasping for breath, the sadness all over her as she began crying again.
“What is it?” Crane asked gently.
“That boy,” she said, sobbing. “That poor boy. We never even… even knew h-his name.”
Dan moved to comfort her, but she turned instinctively to Crane, who put his good arm around her.
The doorway opened fully to her then, her memories drifting lazily back—the fear, the interminable questions, the rum. And Crane. A smile spread slowly over her face. “I remember,” she said to him. “I remember everything.”
“What’s to remember?” Newcombe asked.
“The rum bottle… being pushed down the breathing tube. That’s right when you were telling me about your plan for ending earthquakes.”
“Ending earthquakes?” Dan asked.
She looked at Crane, instinctively realizing she’d said something wrong, something meant to be kept private.
“If you’ve got a plan for ending earthquakes,” Newcombe said, “I’d sure love to hear it.”
Crane merely looked at him. Newcombe turned to Lanie. “Okay, you tell me.”
“I-I’m still confused,” she said. “I’m just not sure what I… what I….”
“You’re a lot of things, Lanie,” Newcombe said, “but confused isn’t one of them. What are you holding back? Why are you holding back?”
“Dan,” Crane said quietly. “Ask me, not Lanie. I’m the one with the secrets.”
Newcombe stared angrily at him. “You’re nothing but secrets. From the first you’ve had some sort of game plan you kept from the rest of us. We’ve had to pick our way through your self-generated darkness. How about a little truth for a change?”
“Come on,” Crane said. “I’ll show you. I don’t suppose it would do any good to swear you to secrecy?”
“There’s been too damned much secrecy,” Newcombe said, following Crane out of the office.
Lanie trailed behind, tense. She’d not meant to blurt anything out. God, why did she have to go and open her big mouth? She was surprised to find Crane moving to her controller’s console. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Crane said to the programmers working at their stations, “you may take a thirty-minute break beginning now. I want all of you out of the building. Go.”
Lanie joined them at the console, Crane’s fingers already busy on her keyboard. There were, apparently, things about the globe that even she didn’t know.
“I’ve been studying quakes my entire life,” Crane said, taking the globe offline and reprogramming. “I’d decided early on that I wanted to heal, not just to define. That’s why I entered into the study of the effects of nuclear testing on surrounding strata.”
“We all know your old news, Crane,” Newcombe said. “You’re still credited as the man whose work made the politicos see the light and stop all nuclear testing.”
“Gave me the Nobel Prize for it,” Crane said, and laughed. “But I never earned, nor wanted, that award. And I certainly never wanted to stop nuclear testing.”
“I don’t understand,” Lanie said. Crane hit the enter key and the globe stopped dead, red lights flashing all over its surface.
“Heat,” Crane said, walking to the globe, “enough heat to melt rock… to weld rock.”
“You want to fuse the plates back together,” Newcombe said, his voice hushed, his eyes narrowed in deep suspicion.
“I asked the machine,” Crane said. “I postulated a temperature of five thousand degrees centigrade and asked if it were possible to reconnect the plates through spot welding.” He pointed to the globe. “This is what it gave me. Fifty-three spot welds that, if done properly, will fuse the continental plates and end drift forever.”
“That’s what the globe was for,” Lanie said. “You wanted back-up for your theories.”
“Correct,” Crane said. “We can end the destructive reign of the earthquake in our lifetime.”
“You want to explode fifty-three nuclear bombs?” Newcombe asked, incredulous.
“Fifty-three gigaton bombs,” Crane said.
“You’re crazier than I thought.”
“Am I?” Crane asked. “Think about it. The world sits on enormous stockpiles of nuclear materials, old warheads, waste matter. Done properly, my bombs could eliminate those stockpiles by exploding them back downward, toward the core, which is simply a decaying radioactive process anyway. We could end EQs and volcanoes, and get rid of our nuclear mess all at the same time.”
Lanie cocked her head. There was sense to what he said. Deep underground explosions right on the rifts, if handled properly, could relieve all the push-pull pressure. If the bombs were planted deeply enough, they’d pose zer
o threat to life above ground.
“Has your ego no limits?” Newcombe asked. “Has it occurred to you that earthquakes are a natural part of our world? That the planet may exist because of them? There would be no life on this planet at all if the volcanoes hadn’t pumped life-sustaining matter into the atmosphere. What you’re proposing is nothing less than destruction of the processes which made us what we are. They’re natural, Crane. Leave them alone!”
“What’s natural about an earthquake?” Crane asked. “People are always so quick to judge. Just because it’s always been this way doesn’t mean it has to stay like that. The globe thinks it will work fine and the globe knows far more than we do.”
“It does not!” Newcombe said loudly. “The globe knows nothing of humanity or of ethics or of common sense. You’re talking about interfering with a basic process of the Earth. God only knows the catastrophe you could cause by trying to make this insanity work!”
“Ask the machine,” Crane said. “See what it thinks.”
“I don’t care about the goddamned machine!” Newcombe shouted. “It’s an extension of your insanity.”
“Wait a minute,” Lanie said. “The globe works. You’ve seen it work. It can be a very useful tool in—”
“You’re as bad as he is,” Newcombe said. “Listen carefully to me: It’s the entire planet you’re putting at risk here. It’s unnatural, Crane. It’s wrong.”
“Strange words from a scientist,” Crane said. “Dams change the course of nature’s rivers. Medicines interfere with the natural process of sickness. Genetic manipulation changes everything from the food we eat to the children we bear, again by going against the nature of life. This is no different.”
Newcombe tapped his wristpad for the time. “There’s science, Crane, then there’s egotistical arrogance. Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I know who I am, doctor,” Crane said. “You should ask that question of yourself.”
“I have,” Newcombe said, “and here’s the answer: I’m the man who’s going to keep you from destroying the Earth.”