‘Quality is more important than quantity. What’s the point of churning out vast numbers of extra mouths each month when there’s no food for them? You must know this – you work amongst the deprivation which results.’
‘That deprivation is caused by the cynical neglect of the richer nations. If they put half the resources they spend on armaments into constructively helping the Third World, its problems would be solved within a generation.’
I sighed. ‘We’re reaching the limits, Luke. I hate to sound brutal, but if the problems of the Third World were solved in the way you envisage, they’d immediately start consuming more resources, which would push the Earth over the edge even faster. There are just too many people on this planet.’
‘Those problems would not exist if the richer nations didn’t squander resources so extravagantly.’ Luke had lost nothing of his intensity, his lean body rigid with his determination to convince me. I felt tired, the memory of old arguments revived.
‘Maybe, but you know that the economic system of the developed world depends on consumption and trade. Restrict the consumption too much and you’ll get mass unemployment, economic collapse, and the end of any aid to the Third World.’
‘You’re turning into an apologist for big business!’
‘No, you’re right that we do need to restrict our consumption but we need to do that without undermining the economy. It’s difficult, but achievable if the will is there. But in the long run, no such measures will do any good if the world population continues to increase.’
‘You cannot sterilise humanity! These poor people I work with, their children are their only hope for the future!’
‘If they had fewer of them, their future would be a lot better. Your church hasn’t exactly helped matters by condemning all forms of contraception, has it? Even though AIDS is the scourge of Africa! How can you justify that?’
‘I don’t have to justify anything! I am doing God’s work, in spending my life looking after His people – what you are proposing is blasphemy!’
I tried a more emollient tack. ‘Luke, we’re not talking about sterilisation, anyway. There will always be a way for a couple to restore their fertility if they want to.’
‘Yes, by eating grass. Don’t you know that there are vast areas of Africa where the long-term drought is so severe that fresh grass can’t be found?’
‘If the drought is that bad then they can’t be producing their own food anyway; tell me, is it really sensible to conceive children in conditions of drought and famine?’
He gestured angrily, sending his coffee spoon flying across the table. ‘If we were coldly doing only what was logical, we would be adopting Swift’s “modest proposal” and telling the starving to eat their own children. We must accept human needs, and one of the most basic of those is to rear children!’
‘Not as basic as having enough to eat.’
We fell into a weary silence for a few moments. It had always ended this way, debates sliding into bitter arguments from entrenched positions.
‘It’s no good, Luke; we’re no closer to finding common ground than we ever were. We have to find some balance here, some way of resolving these arguments.’
He was doggedly determined. ‘But this isn’t the usual intellectual debate, Matt – you are proposing to attack our fundamental humanity. You must not do this!’
‘I have to do it – the alternative is no future for humanity.’
He glared at me for a few moments, then got up abruptly. ‘I can see that I’m wasting my time, as usual. You are so obstinately certain that you’re right. Well, there’s a huge number of people out there who are opposed to what you are doing, in the strongest possible terms.’
I sighed. ‘Tell me about it.’
Luke’s expression softened slightly. ‘It must be very hard for you, all this. I will pray for you.’
‘Thanks – the way things look at the moment, I haven’t got a prayer.’
Luke marched out, still tense with anger. I looked at the spoon lying on the table. It had left a trail of coffee, as if bleeding brown blood from some mortal wound.
The following morning, Freya had more bad news. ‘In the circumstances, the Secretary-General has decided that he doesn’t want to proceed with you as a Special Representative. I have been recalled, and you are asked to leave this house within two days.’
I looked at her, scanned her closely. Her fixed expression reflected her tension and anger, but I was relieved to see that they were not directed at me. She had been given her orders, and had to carry them out – but it was clear that she did not like them. She started to say something else, but I raised my hand to silence her and walked out into the grounds. She followed, puzzled.
‘The rooms are bugged.’ I explained.
Her anger increased. ‘Typical!’ She snorted. ‘Cade, what I want to tell you is that I don’t agree with all this. I believe you and the saurians, I think that your message is important and urgent, but it’s all a mess now. I either have to do as I’m told or resign.’
A germ of an idea sprouted in my mind. ‘Do you have any leave you can take?’
‘Yes, I have about three weeks owing this year.’
‘Why don’t you take them now, and go home to Iceland? I might join you there later.’
She looked levelly at me. ‘You’re plotting something, aren’t you?’
I grinned. ‘Probably, but it’s only a vague notion at the moment. I have to do some research first.’
‘All right, I expect that the Secretary-General will be pleased to get me out of the way for a while. If there’s any way I can help, I will.’
Freya left shortly afterwards, and I contemplated what to do next. I put on the headnet and linked with Secundo. I put a number of questions and suggestions to him, and sensed a spark of interest, even excitement – rare for any saurian, let alone the grave and serious Secundo – and then broke the link to let him get to work.
I went for a swim, had some lunch, and was thinking about where I should go next – and how – when the phone rang. I picked it up and was astonished to recognise Richards’ voice. He did not waste words.
‘Two things. First, about the leak over those killings. The Americans went over my head and got access to your records. Second, get out of that house now – it’s a trap.’
The phone went dead before I could ask any questions. I put it down and opened my senses. The two staff members weren’t there – the house was empty apart from myself. I extended my range and instantly detected three sources glowing with malign intent, closing fast. One was coming by road – I sensed a truck-load of men – one by water, and one by air. I ran out of the house towards the shore. A small helicopter was visible, racing towards the house. A cabin cruiser was a few hundred metres away, the bow-wave indicating high speed as it approached. I heard the squeal of tyres as the truck turned into the driveway, and stopped for a moment to think.
I considered and instantly dismissed the idea of killing them – it would make my position even worse, confirm the worst fears of the public. In the Sound I would be safe from the men in the lorry and probably the boat as well, but not with the helicopter watching overhead, able to look down through the water. I focused on the helo, found the pilot’s mind, and squeezed, giving him a blinding headache. The helo wobbled uncertainly and I increased the pressure. The pilot gave in and turned away as I sprinted into the Sound. Behind me I heard a barrage of explosions and the roar of gunfire as the house was attacked; it sounded as if many grenades had been thrown, but I did not turn back to look. In the water, I swam out as fast as I could towards the approaching boat, reaching deeper water as soon as possible. Then I submerged, turned away from the boat’s path until it was passing by, sank to the bottom and shifted my colour to match.