“Yes. The first milestone is complete. The Google shareholders approved the tariffs last week without a hiccup from their CEO.”
“Bethany Andrews?”
“Yes. She fought hard but GoldRock prevailed easily as we always do.”
“Why did she oppose it? Is she a spy?”
“Probably. Her failed policies have certainly helped China and Russia.”
Gareth looks down. “I made a note of that.” He glances at Manos. “When can you execute the next milestone?”
“We should have a new business model soon. Google’s profits will soar and our enemies will be crushed.”
Gareth grins. “Perfect. Listen, the President plans a press conference next week to announce war measures against China. He will mention the Google plan in his speech.”
Manos nods. “Got it. Should we go live after the broadcast?”
“Yes. Get the updates ready. I’ll call you a day ahead of the President’s address.”
“Sounds good. We’ll wait for your green light before we launch.”
“Excellent! Great job, Manos. It’s always a pleasure to work with GoldRock.”
“It’s an honor to help my country.” Manos sips some champagne. “Gareth, we’ll need payment for the milestone we achieved.”
“Of course. It’s $100M, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Can I offer a discounted military vehicle?”
Manos laughs. “I prefer cash this time.”
“You didn’t enjoy the Falcon 12 rocket?”
“I’ve been up to space a few times, but it gets old fast.”
“I see.”
“The Falcon is sitting in my hangar gathering dust. I’m thinking of selling it.”
“How about an F18 or an Osprey?”
Manos shakes his head. “Nope. Currency is king.”
“Of course, Manos. I will wire payment to GoldRock later today.”
Manos removes his smartglasses and puffs the cigar. “Thank you. Your business is appreciated.”
5.
“THE BABY’S kicking. Give me your hand.”
Anil sits on the bed and palms his wife’s pregnant belly. He feels a soft thud on his fingers. “My sweet daughter. Did she wake you last night?”
“She did,” Prisha says. “She has so much energy.”
A rumble rocks the studio apartment, the sounds of ocean waves coming from the window. In the living area, water leaks from the balcony door and gathers in a pool soaking the rug.
Anil’s voice softens. “I have to confess something.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t like the name Samira.”
“Why? It was your mother’s name.”
He sighs. “It brings back memories of the Flood. It’s too painful for me.”
Prisha turns away. “We can’t agree on a baby name. It’s so frustrating.”
“It’s my fault.” Anil places his ear on his wife’s belly. “Baby, what are you doing in there?” He feels a movement and hears his wife’s stomach rumble. “You’re hungry, Prisha.”
She shakes her head. “I’m fine. I can wait until Ration 2.”
“I have a surprise for you.” He stands and walks to a canister lying where a refrigerator once stood. Storage boxes sit in the kitchen sink. He pours water from the container and reaches in a cupboard for a plate of food, then darts back to the bed. “Here you go. Just for you!”
Prisha seems wary. “Where did you get this?”
“Just eat it.”
She grabs a fork and tastes an artificial corn puree. “Anil, this is your Ration 1. You saved it for me, didn’t you?”
“Maybe I did.”
“You have to eat, too.”
“I wasn’t hungry this morning. And besides, you’re eating for two.”
Prisha grabs his hand. “We can’t live this, Anil. I have to find work. We need more money.”
“We’ll be fine. Just be happy that JPL gave you unpaid leave. You’ll go back to work as soon as the baby is born.”
“I’m not happy that you’re starving yourself for me.”
“The doctor said you shouldn’t work with your high blood pressure. Don’t worry, I can support us.”
She points to the soaking rug. “What about that?”
Anil takes a towel and wipes the pool of water streaming from the balcony. He rolls open the curtain and sunlight bathes the room. The vast ocean stretches into the distance, the sea level just a few feet below their second-floor apartment.
A tidal surge crashes into the building and shakes its foundation. He opens the patio door and hangs the wet towel from a hook. The sounds of splashing waves fill the apartment as seawater drips into the patio. He looks out warily.
The ocean is rising.
Panic consumes him.
We need to leave this apartment.
“I’m worried,” Prisha says.
Anil closes the balcony door. “Everything is fine, dear.”
She throws her hands in the air. “One day we’ll wake up under water!”
“No, we won’t. We’ll move to another apartment soon.”
“How can we afford that? The units upstairs are more expensive.”
She’s right. We won’t survive another rent hike. “We can manage it. I’m waiting for the leasing office to call.”
“They don’t care about us.”
“They know what they’re doing. We’ll relocate in the next few weeks.”
She starts to sob. “What kind of world are we bringing our baby into? She won’t have running water or heat. Education is unaffordable. Life wasn’t this hard when we were kids.”
“Times are hard, but you can’t live in fear. We have to be positive.”
“I worry every day.”
“Why? There’s no point in torturing yourself.”
Tears flood her eyes. “Life is too hard.”
He embraces his wife and kisses her. “When times are tough, you fight back. If you do nothing, it only gets worse.”
“I can’t fight anymore. I’m tired.”
“I know, babe. It’s my battle for you and our baby. I’ll take care of us. Don’t worry.”
His stomach growls in hunger.
How will we survive?
Panicked, he gets up and grabs his briefcase. “I have work to do.” He sits at a desk and turns on his laptop, an aging device from an earlier time.
Work is my only distraction.
The display switches on. He logs onto his portal and opens Project Titan, reviewing an engineering sketch for the reactor prototype. He reruns his previous calculations and confirms the accuracy of the schematics.
Looking for something to do, he sends an email to his boss. “Fei, I’m just following up on my assignment. Is there anything else I can do? I’m eager to help.”
Anil stares at his messages, his legs shaking in frustration. He waits for a reply.
I need more work to do. Can I find a second job?
A memo arrives from a company administrator. “Beginning this week, Google employees who leave the country will lose access to the work portal. Additionally, changes to our operating system will take effect later in the week. Details to follow.”
Anil deletes the note and browses the inbox. He notices the CIA correspondence that Austin had forwarded to him four days earlier. “Dr. Sanders, per our earlier conversation, please find the secure data. We need your response within five days. Best, Gareth Allen.”
Anil turns to his wife. “Prisha, what do you know about Barnard’s Star?”
“It’s one of our nearest stars. I believe it’s a red dwarf. Why do you ask?”