“Last month, I attended an ocean sciences meeting in San Diego suggesting global cooling from a nuclear conflict would disrupt normal upper-level wind circulation, leading to severe changes in the atmosphere above the Pacific Ocean.
“Their studies were conclusive. A limited, regional nuclear war in the Middle East like the other day, or in South Asia between Pakistan and India, would provoke a cascade of changes to the Pacific Ocean, the world’s largest ocean basin. Trade winds will reverse direction. The height of the sea surface on either side of the Pacific will adjust, bringing more water to South America’s shores than Australia’s, for example. With this profound change in the normal sea levels near the equator, the volume of nutrient-rich waters made available to marine life will become depleted. In essence, there’s the potential for a total reversal of ocean circulation.”
“Geez,” said Hank as he suddenly turned to the calm waters of the Gulf.
“The thing is,” she began before pausing. “These nuclear detonations represent a pretty big hammer slapping the planet’s climate. Depending on the number of nuclear weapons exchanged, the unusual nuclear El Niño could last up to ten years.”
“During which time, what happens?” asked Hank.
“A massive die-off of the marine food population, especially in the Pacific. The disruption in the weather patterns coupled with substantially less light due to the fallout circumnavigating the planet results in less food resources for fish.”
“What about our coast?”
“Well, there haven’t been many peer-reviewed studies of the impact to the Atlantic or the Gulf of Mexico. The Pacific is an ecosystem in and of itself. However, the limited light resulting from nuclear fallout, nuclear winter, if you will, would severely hamper food production around the globe.
“Without natural grown foods for wildlife, animals can’t eat. Without adequate sunlight and rainfall, crops can’t grow. Without food from animal and plant sources, humans can’t eat. If nothing eats, famine is the natural result.”
“Are we talking about the end of civilization? I mean, surely the people who press the buttons know this is a really bad idea, right?”
Erin stood to join Hank and dusted off the back of her coverup. She took him by the arm, a touching gesture that prompted Hank to smile for the first time since this whole nuclear-aftermath conversation started.
“Hank, imagine a room where the walls and floors are soaked with gasoline. Inside, you have two bitter enemies facing each other. One has a thousand matches, and the other has only nine hundred. Both enemies want to show their firepower is superior to the other’s.
“That’s where we are today. We have an enormous stockpile of nukes, as does China to our west and Russia to our east. There is this unsteady understanding that none of us win in an all-out nuclear war.
“Now, consider this. Iran and Israel were on equal par with one another thanks to a recent surge in Iran’s stockpiles. They thought it was a fair fight, but it wasn’t because Israel had planned for this eventuality many years ago. Its defensive capabilities were far superior.”
The results were obvious.
Erin stopped and began to draw in the sand with her toes. Hank stood back to give her plenty of room. She drew a big circle and reached out to take his hand.
“You stand here, Captain America.” She smiled and sent him a wink. He eagerly stepped into the circle.
She stood to the side and made a circle representing China. Then she walked around Hank to create another one for Russia.
“China and Russia, okay?” She furrowed her brow as she identified the circles. Hank gave her a thumbs-up.
Then, below China toward the left, near the water’s edge, she drew another circle and looked up to Hank.
“This is Pakistan and India. Now, they’ve been in their own gasoline-soaked room for a while now. They don’t have a thousand matches, but they have more than enough to incinerate the room. If they were to light their matches, the billowing smoke and ash would flow upwards into the atmosphere and, within four days, spread around the globe.
“We would experience nuclear winter, albeit on a lesser scale at first. This will gradually become worse as the days go on. Naturally, if the nukes were dropped on top of us, the results would be immediate.”
“I see,” said Hank. He began to step toward her, and she raised her hand, indicating she wasn’t finished.
She walked to the opposite side of the China circle, closer to Hank, and drew an oblong shape from the water’s edge to the upper side of China. She stood off to the side and put her hands on her hips to survey her work.
“This represents the Korean peninsula. Now, there’s a whole lot of gasoline here, but only one side has matches, and they’re held by a ruthless dictator.”
Hank chuckled. “I call him Little Un.”
Erin laughed with him but cautioned, “Short on stature but tall on threat. You see, if the balance of power between you, China, and Russia over there were to stay the same, Little Un, as you call him, might do something stupid because these big guns have his back. Likewise, these guys who are facing off in their own gas-filled room might decide to have at it.” She walked across China and pointed to India and Pakistan.
“What would trigger all of this?” asked Hank, sweeping his arm across the map in the sand. “Surely that whole mutually assured destruction thing would apply, right?”
“One would hope,” she replied. “But if it doesn’t, the consequences would be dire for all of us regardless of whether we were at ground zero of the nuclear strike.”
Hank shook his head in disbelief. He wondered how politicians could sleep at night knowing that nuclear Armageddon hung over us all like a mighty sword. He stepped out of his circle and motioned for Erin to walk back to the hotel. They shared casual conversation in an effort to get their minds off the prospect of somebody else striking a match in a gasoline-filled room that could result in their extinction.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sunday, October 20
Oval Office
The White House
“Clear the room, everyone. Please.” President Helton had spent the entire day with advisors and analysts and staffers chirping in his ear for one reason or another. He needed some peace and quiet. Especially the peace half of the equation.
After the Oval Office was empty, he removed his jacket and loosened his tie. He made his way to a small cabinet located to the right of the Resolute Desk. It was perched below a painting of Lady Liberty holding the torch high above her head.
He retrieved a leaded crystal glass and the bottle of Glenfiddich scotch whisky. After pouring his glass half full, he returned to his desk and flopped in the chair. He mindlessly spun back and forth, taking in his surroundings.
He realized how rare it was for him to be left alone in his sanctuary. As president, he was afforded precious little free time. Once in a while, he was left alone to peruse briefing documents for a meeting before the ever-present Chandler would have a need to return to his office.
In addition to the briefings he received from all parts of government, he had figurehead functions to perform, ranging from meeting with world leaders to hosting the Little League World champions. As of this morning, his entire schedule had been cleared for the next several days as the nation’s vast intelligence apparatus kept him apprised of events in the Middle East.
It was nice, for a change, to set other matters aside to focus on one thing and make sure he got it right. As a former senator, he hadn’t run a government like a governor runs a state. Governors, like presidents, were the chief executive officer of a massive financial operation that dealt directly with the well-being of its citizens. Matters of health, finance, and national defense all had to be taken into account.