Fields of Eressa 2

Crisis

            Dr. Ben Rafferty hated these “let’s all get on the same page” kind of meetings. Intense sun radiated through closed blinds. Streaks of light knifed into his small, semi-lit office space, a space for which he had no liking. Being on the ground, anywhere in the world collecting data on community coping mechanisms, that is where he needed to be. And there was a whole lot of coping going on, but the opportunities for studying the full range of recovery? Fleeting! And here he was stuck with rich idiots who were playing at being informed. Ben sighed. His leather desk chair creaked as he sat down, leaned back and surveyed faces on the teleconference screen, and clicked on his video icon.

            Everything is data and everywhere, and since he was stuck,  he would make the best of it. At least the group included two other serious researchers. Marion and Lenneal could be counted on for rigorous analysis. The rest? Just a waste of time. The main teleconference window filled in with the image of a steel haired matron who had just clicked in to speak. Ben did his best to keep annoyance from registering on his face.

        “It seems clear that these people… victims? Listen to me, I’m babbling….”

Ben suppressed rolling his eyes.

“What are we calling them?” Roberta continued and nervously fingered through the most disturbing collection of data she had ever encountered. This was world changing stuff and she didn’t want to get it wrong.

        Marion soothed, “Let’s call them ‘subjects’. I know we’re all a little rattled by the data here, but…”

        Ben’s patience proved short lived. He broke in, “I’m not seeing it. The collapse of significant sections of the Shatsky rise perpetrating massive damage of nearly all shipping infrastructure around the Pacific Rim… not to mention massive loss of life… that has me rattled. These accounts, these data, read like an ‘I-was-abducted-by-aliens’ tabloid piece.”

       Marion smiled, “Yes. Ben. The transcriptions do contain a bit of hysteria. However, we must factor into our discussion the psychological state of those reporting. Transcripts of taped interviews must be sorted for their more objective content. We must expect it to be messy. We are dealing with something that, at least on the surface, seems extraordinary.”

      Roberta spoke again, “I can rephrase.  It seems clear to me that our ‘subjects’ are leaving here for there, wherever ‘there’ is.”

And here it was. The seemingly endless repetition of what everyone should know. 

    Ben asserted, “No, no, no! We don’t know any of that! What we know is that a certain percentage of people are still missing amid the ruins of an unprecedented Pacific Rim catastrophe.  And the number of the unaccounted is well within the range of normal given the event. My god!  I’m talking about normal. There is no normal given the magnitude. No assessment can be made about ‘normal’ so how does one quantify abnormal?”

Dr. Ben rubbed his eyes and added, “Let’s keep the context in mind here. The tsunami took more than a million lives, and it could well number several times that in the next few months depending largely on how rapidly First World nations can respond to developing countries. And of course, we’re spending research time on ‘alien abductions.’ Anybody besides me feeling the absurdity of this? What makes sense to me? All this is documented rumor. It is really all we have.  Mass rumor is sensible as a symptom of shock given the immensity of the Shatsky event.”

      Marion answered, “I’m not sure I understand your response, Ben. Did Elliot’s group not send you the reportage on discrepancies in the body count from Ramona Canyon above San Diego, the eyewitness interviews of survivors in San Diego proper, and the reportage from the UCSD fraternity incident?”

     A surge of anger froze Ben’s heart and his voice dripped with sarcasm , “No. He didn’t. It remains a mystery how I get left out of Elliot’s distributions. Who knows what happened?”

     Elliot affected a mockery of surprise and said, “I will have to look into that, won’t I. There. I just posted. Enjoy. I think everyone else has read them.”

Marion continued, only the vein standing out on his forehead indicated his growing irritation, “Our protocol is to establish a working theory of this phenomenon based on the accounts and the reports containing more verifiable data sources. Our very small slice of worldwide data contains testimony from trained researchers, police forensics, and the like. And, Ben, I might add, our research here is well resourced and will benefit our own research institutions.”

“Now, I want us to consider what I feel are exceptional data,” Marion continued, “Ben. I’m referencing section two. As you see, it contains testimony from a group of teens interviewed in connection with the UC San Diego and Balboa Park incidents. And yes, there is hysteria, shock, and psychological trauma found there. This data is included for that very reason. Interviewed separately, each of the subjects, as unstable as they were, give nearly identical descriptions of the proceedings of the event and those involved.”

      Lenneal spoke, “Friends, I’m looking at those transcriptions as well as copies of written testimony from the group of college students involved in that as yet inexpiable UCSD frat party incident…. Person to person, it’s all very consistent and detailed.  And, looking at the parallels between that and our unstable teens, I’d say the evidence is with those arguing that small portions of our population passed through some sort of gap in space-time. And, yes. I agree. It all sounds tabloidesque, Ben. But as uncomfortable as it is to consider, I believe that is what these testimonials are suggesting to us at the moment.”

      Ben felt his anger toward Elliot mounting. Lenneal was right. The parallels between the two sets of data created a whole new interpretation.

      “Yes,” Elliot interjected, “and, there is another aspect to the data that is of concern to me. There seem to be entities on the other side of the… I’m going to call it a gap for now… who pass through from there to here. And, they seem to have been here for some time.  I note they organized those traumatized, and they greeted those who came from the other side of the gap. I find that troubling.”

      “Elliot, we need to be very careful with that assessment. That indicates huge worldwide security issues,” Ben said distractedly as he read section two.

Lenneal was right; the evidence favored the unimaginable. Would it be the final push into global chaos, or the needed etherization of the ignorant masses? Hopeful rumors could pacify, but if this was real, it needed to be contained. Doing otherwise favored chaos.

     “Well. Well! For once we agree, Ben. Not so tabloidesque, now, is it? It should be obvious this is what the data is telling us. That is why I want the study done. We in fact have a massive worldwide security threat. Everyone on the Council agrees. And, there is always profit in insecurity.”

    “The billionaire vulture speaks of that which fills his coffers! How very nice for you!” countered Ben.

    “Well Ben! I’m always working for the win-win scenario.”

     Lenneal sidetracked the escalating antagonism between Ben and Elliot, “But there is another complication. At least four members of the fraternity died during the UCSD incident. Forensics reveal massive brain trauma as the cause of death, but no impact wounds were found anywhere on any of the skulls.”

            “Seems the four were attempting to sexually assault two coeds,” put in Marion, “but there is no agreement on what caused their deaths.”

            “No agreement in the testimonials. I’d say it’s pretty obvious what manner of persons did the killing, and I would call that a class ‘A’ security issue,” emphasized Elliot.

            “Hold on. I’ve got a call coming through of the order I’m unfortunately obligated to receive. I’ll rejoin our conversation momentarily,” Marion said.

            The unexpected break was a welcome relief. Ben Rafferty clicked on the list of streaming data feeds that in recent days permanently occupied the right two inches of his laptop’s screen. It was all bad news. The list began repopulating as he stood from his desk chair and stretched his back. Then an item in red appeared. Red was bad. That it maintained its position at the top of his list was very bad, and the title began marching off to the left. News of the collapse of the Shatsky Rise had done that.  He read ‘Massive fresh water pulse near Jakobshavn’… ‘Catastrophic loss of life.’ It didn’t get worse than that.

            “Oh for the love of Christ! Like we need this right now!” Ben Rafferty huffed and clicked on the red text.

            What he read caused him to search for his desk chair and sit down. He clicked on the satellite icon and a video screen appeared on the upper quarter of the screen. Not much help. Too much cloud cover, but he could see that Jackobshavn no longer existed. Where it had been situated, an inland sea flooded into the ocean. Massive blocks of ice the size of small mountains rolled in the torrent of water that grew ever wider as he watched. Then the unthinkable happened. The mountain range above Jakobshavn seemed to collapse. The white ice behind the mountain fractured into blue and black and gray and began crashing into the sea.

Ben’s mind went numb as he watched the displacement tsunamis form. Panic urged him to spread the alarm. He suppressed the irrational action. The situation was obviously monitored and his job wasn’t emergency response, but post-event analysis and strategy. Those were the two things his mind was utterly incapable of doing at the present moment. The sheer scale of the event….  A voice broke his train of thought. The video conference multi-portal once again dominated his computer screen.

Marion’s voice pushed against Ben’s overwhelmed senses, “I assume you are monitoring the collapse of a significant section of the Greenland Ice Sheet. I believe we will all have other duties more pressing than our current analysis of missing persons.”

Ben heard a tense control in Marion’s voice, and asked, “Lenneal. Do you have any data from northeast Greenland?”

“We have acceleration of the ice flow there. Over some… 200 square kilometres. Yes.  A freshwater pulse is likely there as well. Yeah. Given the movement of that much ice up, it looks like the world is going to get that one to two feet of sea level rise a whole lot sooner than expected. And… our sensors are falling off the network. Every reporting feature just went down! That station was atop 3 kilometres of ice! Gentlemen? We have a serious situation. Marion. Where are you?”

“I am in The Hague, Lenneal.”

“Then you need to get the hell out! This is Ben and what I’m seeing is worse than serious. Existing monitoring stations on the ice sheet show ongoing movement. I am seeing indicators of a displacement tsunami forming… Wait!  I’ve got more readings coming in. The tsunami array in the North Atlantic just triggered. It’s coming. It looks like a big one. North Canada will be absolutely hammered. It’s not going to be much better for Northern Europe. This is just the beginning. Marion. Do you have Garrett Miller’s model on your systems? The new, unpublished one. I can send you a link. You have to know what’s coming at you!”

“Thank you, Ben. Your Americanisms are refreshing at a time like this, but there is little that can be done. The alert has just now gone out. Evacuations will begin immediately. And yes, I have the Miller Model link from Elliot’s cyber group. As does our military, and I see our North Atlantic Tsunami protocol has just launched. World heritage items are being evacuated out of the Netherlands. I’m afraid my chances of evacuation are rather small at present. But our buildings are strong, and we have many boats. Most will survive the first surges.”

“Marion. This is Elliot. I have a couple people with Garrett Miller in Greenland. When they report in again, I might get something to share with you. Right now, I have other things to attend to. ”

Several other video feeds went off-line. Ben saw the old Dutch researcher bow his head a moment then look up as if he were looking directly at him, “And where are you? Lenneal? Ben?”

“I’m in Saudi Arabia.”

“And Ben?”

“The ‘U’ District, Seattle.”

Marion took off his glasses and rubbed his face with his hands, then continued, “I suppose you are both safe enough. Shall we get some work done?”

“Safety is a relative terms in our days, my friends,” put in Lenneal absently.

“Well said. Given the political powder keg you’re living in. You need to be somewhere else.”

Lenneal smiled, “Ben! Are you going soft on me? So unlike you!”

“Right,” Ben said without emotion. “I’m getting more raw data. My God! Ice movement is detected all the way up to… the summit of Greenland? This isn’t just an ice dam failure. We have something larger working.  And this freshwater pulse appears to be a larger horror than anything we planned for. Early indicators are that the bulb of water forming around and accelerating from Greenland will increase Northern European and Canadian sea levels by an estimated two meters with wave action inundating everything, at minimum, within 9 meters of current sea level. And this modeling is typically conservative.”

“And the geothermal differentials?” asked Marion.

Lenneal’s smile faded, “Marion. I’m afraid we can’t buy good news. What I see in the thermal spectrum and in the gravitational force variants is consistent with a massive dome of magma coming to the surface under the continental rock that was once below sea level.”

Marion grew pale, “How large is massive, Lenneal?”

“I am very, very sorry, Marion.”

“Dr. Koingson’s so-called super volcano hypothesis.”

No one spoke. Marion uncharacteristically brought a white handkerchief to his eyes. Ben slowly shook his head. Lenneal appeared to be reading from the bottom of his screen.  At last, Marion broke the silence.

“It will be much worse than you’ve suggested, Ben. I hope to see you all again, but that now seems doubtful.”

Marion reached off camera and brought into view a tall crystal wineglass half filled with red wine. He intoned, “To those about to perish…” he spilled some wine from the glass onto the desk. “And, to those who live…” here he raised his glass and drank, “may you create well the new world order.”

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