State of Fear

"We start the conference on Wednesday. Well-known, charismatic environmentalists and major politicians from industrialized nations are scheduled to appear. We have delegates from around the world, so B-roll reaction shots of the audience will be satisfactorily color-mixed. Industrialized countries now include India and Korea and Japan, of course. The Chinese delegation will participate but there will be no speakers.

 

 

"Our two hundred invited television journalists will stay at the Hilton, and we will have interview facilities there as well as in the conference halls, so our speakers can spread the message to video audiences around the world. We will also have a number of print media people to carry the word to elite opinion makers, the ones that read but do not watch TV."

 

"Good," Drake said. He appeared pleased.

 

"Each day's theme will be identified by a distinctive graphic icon, emphasizing flood, fire, rising sea levels, drought, icebergs, typhoons, and hurricanes, and so on. Each day we have a fresh contingent of politicians from around the world coming to attend and give interviews explaining the high level of their dedication and concern about this newly emerging problem."

 

"Good, good." Drake nodded.

 

"The politicians will stay for only a day--some only a few hours--and they will not have time to attend the conferences beyond a brief photo-op showing them in the audience, but they are briefed and will be effective. Then we have local schoolchildren, grades four to seven, coming each day to learn about the dangers--sorry, the catastrophe--in their futures, and we have educational kits for grade-school teachers, so they can teach their kids about the crisis of abrupt climate change."

 

"When do those kits go out?"

 

"They were going out today, but now we'll hold them for rebannering."

 

"Okay," Drake said. "And for high schools?"

 

"We have some trouble there," the PR guy said. "We showed the kits to a sample of high school science teachers and, uh..."

 

"And what?" Drake said.

 

"The feedback we got was they might not go over so well."

 

Drake's expression turned dark. "And why not?"

 

"Well, the high school curriculum is very college oriented, and there isn't a lot of room for electives..."

 

"This is hardly anelective ..."

 

"And, uh, they felt it was all speculative and unsubstantiated. They kept saying things like, 'Where's the hard science here?' Just reporting, sir."

 

"God damn it," Drake said, "it isnot speculative. It ishappening! "

 

"Uh, perhaps we didn't get the right materials that show what you are saying..."

 

"Ah fuck. Never mind now," Drake said. "Just trust me, it's happening. Count on it." He turned, and said in a surprised voice, "Evans, how long have you been here?"

 

Peter Evans had been standing in the doorway for at least two minutes and had overheard a good deal of the conversation. "Just got here, Mr. Drake."

 

"All right." Drake turned to the others. "I think we've gone through this. Evans, you come with me."

 

Drake shut the door to his office. "I need your counsel, Peter," he said quietly. He walked around to his desk, picked up some papers, and slid them toward Evans. "What the fuck is this?"

 

Evans looked. "That is George's withdrawal of support."

 

"Did you draw it up?"

 

"I did."

 

"Whose idea was paragraph 3a?"

 

"Paragraph 3a?"

 

"Yes. Did you add that little bit of wisdom?"

 

"I don't really remember--"

 

"Then let me refresh your memory," Drake said. He picked up the document and started to read. " 'In the event of any claim that I am not of sound mind, there may be an attempt to obtain injunctive relief from the terms of this document. Therefore this document authorizes the payment of fifty thousand dollars per week to NERF while awaiting the judgment of a full trial. Said monies shall be deemed sufficient to pay ongoing costs incurred by NERF and shall by said payment deny injunctive relief.' Did you write this, Evans?"

 

"I did."

 

"Whose idea was it?"

 

"George's."

 

"George is not a lawyer. He had help."

 

"Not from me," Evans said. "He more or less dictated that clause. I wouldn't have thought of it."

 

Drake snorted in disgust. "Fifty thousand a week," he said. "At that rate, it will take us four years to receive the ten-million-dollar grant."

 

"That's what George wanted the document to say," Evans said.

 

"But whose idea was it?" Drake said. "If it wasn't you, who was it?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"Find out."

 

"I don't know if I can," Evans said. "I mean, George is dead now, and I don't know who he might have consulted--"

 

Drake glared at Evans. "Are you with us here, Peter, or not?" He started pacing back and forth. "Because this Vanutu litigation is undoubtedly the most significant lawsuit we have ever filed." He lapsed into his speech-making mode. "The stakes are enormous, Peter. Global warming is the greatest crisis facing mankind. You know that. I know that. Most of the civilized world knows that. Wemust act to save the planet, before it is too late."

 

"Yes," Evans said. "I know that."

 

"Do you?" Drake said. "We have a lawsuit, a very important lawsuit, that needs our help. And fifty thousand dollars a week will strangle it."