It would be our job to keep them alive. I hadn’t discussed it yet with the others, but I’m sure it had occurred to them… Fifteen million people couldn’t be moved off-planet in any reasonable time, even if we had a destination. Most of these people would have to be kept alive on Earth.
And according to the colonel, over the last decade or so the climate had begun to degrade significantly. Each year had less sunlight, lower temperatures, more snow. The ice caps and glaciers were growing again, for the first time since the 1600’s. Spitsbergen in particular probably didn’t have more than five years left, even given their innovative adaptations. Our current projections, admittedly rough, showed the Earth completely encased in glaciers within fifty to a hundred years.
I looked over at Eeyore, I mean Arthur. He knew what I was thinking, and he didn’t have to say anything. At least he had the decency to not gloat.
“Okay, Arthur. I get it. We have to organize these groups, and try to get some cooperation. How are you doing with communication?”
Arthur gave one of his rare smiles. “The drive-in-movie-sized holographic presentation helped a whole bunch. People couldn’t turn it off or smash it, so they had to listen. The next time we dropped off a communicator, we got almost no breakages or assaults. I think we still only have five places that won’t accept contact, and they’re not big.”
“And they’ll probably join once they find out everyone else has. Good. Let me know when everything is tested and ready, and we’ll issue invitations to the first meeting of the new United Nations.”
***
I don’t know what could possibly have made me think this was a good idea. I sat with my elbow on the armrest, forehead in my hand, while the delegates displayed complete contempt for Robert’s Rules of Order. At any moment, at least a half-dozen people were yelling into their cameras, trying to drown out the others. Thirty-eight different video windows, displaying miniature, gesticulating, yelling dervishes, floated in the air before me. It would be funny if the fate of the world wasn’t resting on this group. Every candidate had the same view as myself; and yet not one was cringing with embarrassment.
Oh, there was some consensus, so it wasn’t a complete loss. For instance, many groups hated the idea that the USE enclave would be getting off-planet first, even though the USE had been the first to contact us and supplied the plans for the colony ships. Even more groups were incensed at the Spitsbergen group’s demand that they be given priority because of their tenuous situation.
And everybody was beyond apoplectic that the Brazil group was even allowed in. Brazil was generally considered to have started the war, and everyone was holding a grudge. Couldn’t say I entirely disagreed, but most of the people in Florianópolis were under the age of ten when the war started, if they had been born at all. Nevertheless, Brazil.
I looked over at Homer’s video feed. He had fallen over, laughing. I spared him a small smile. Over the last little while, I’d started to understand where Homer’s humor was coming from. He was laughing less at the people themselves than the utter ridiculousness of the situation. When push came to shove, he’d give his all to help.
I decided I’d given them enough rope. Time to rein things in. I pressed the override button. Immediately, every delegate’s microphone was cut off, every communicator emitted a loud air-horn sound, and every video feed switched to an image of me.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, and I use those terms loosely, we’re done for the day. We’ll be signing in tomorrow, at the same time, but with shiny new rules. Your microphones will only be active when the chairperson—that’s me for the moment—recognizes you. If you’d like the other members to watch you having a fit in pantomime, that’s fine too. Let me say up front that I don’t care if you don’t like it. Good night.”
I hit the end button and all sessions were closed.
I leaned back in my chair with a groan, while Homer climbed back into his and tried to catch his breath.
“Wow, number two, that was intense. Those are some thoroughly pissed-off people.”
I waved a hand in dismissal. “On the one hand, Homer, these are people fighting to get into a lifeboat while the ship sinks. I can sympathize. On the other hand, their behavior is not helping things along.”
“They’re just passengers, Riker,” Homer said in a serious tone. “They feel helpless, they feel like their fate is being decided by someone else without their input. You need to give them something to do, some way to contribute. Some way to feel like they’re controlling their destiny, at least a little bit.”
Huh. That was actually very perceptive, and my opinion of Homer took another small ratchet upwards. My handling of the situation, truthfully, had probably been less than ideal, but this didn’t resemble any job description I’d ever had.
Homer began to pace, something I don’t think I’d ever seen. “Look, Riker, you have to ease up on them. These people are scared, and you aren’t giving them any reason to believe that you care about their concerns. You aren’t actually the Star Trek character, you know. You need to loosen up a little.
“Chrissake, Homer, you actually think fifteen million people are going ballistic because I don’t smile enough? I get it about them being scared, but their reactions are their responsibility, not mine. You want to do a comedy routine, feel free. Bring back your cartoon avatar. That should be good for some laughs. Or not. When you’re done, they’ll still be at each other’s throats, and maybe we can go back to trying to actually fix things.”
Homer stared at me for a few moments, then shook his head and disappeared. Okay, maybe I’d laid it on a little thick, and I probably owed him an apology, but I just didn’t have time for this.
***
“The chair recognizes the delegate from Maldives.”
A green light came on over the delegate’s image, and she visibly made an effort not to adjust her clothing. “Mr. Riker, we do not appreciate your high-handed actions yesterday…”
She berated me for several minutes. Typical politician. Never use ten words when a thousand will do. I waited patiently until she was done, then took the floor.
“Representative Sharma, I didn’t enjoy shutting you down yesterday any more than I enjoy chairing these meetings in general. I’d like the delegates to self-police. But at the same time, there are decisions that must be made in a timely manner. You don’t have the luxury of a free-for-all. So, here’s the thing. I want you—as in the assembly—to decide how a chairperson will be picked, whether they’ll have control over the microphones, and so on. Once that’s done, I will sit back and be just another delegate. How does that sound?”
There was stunned silence for a moment, then everyone started talking at once. Then another moment of stunned silence as they realized I’d turned on all the microphones, followed by general laughter.
When order had been restored, the delegate from the Maldives, still smiling, said, “Point well taken, Mr. Riker. Leave it to us. We’ll hammer something out.”
I nodded to her and took myself offline.
***