Authors: William R. Forstchen
“You mean America and NASA,” Gary asked.
“Precisely,” Franklin said forcefully. “NASA was the place of America’s dream in the 1960s; of any government agency, it ranked number one in public esteem. It will do so again. But we need to get something for the American public to grab hold of first and then demand that NASA again take the lead. Something that will override the naysayers in Congress and even in the White House, that the public demands that the project goes forward. That was the tragedy of Apollo. Once
Apollo 11
landed, then what? The attitude quickly became ‘Been there, done that,’ and with the waning in public support the dream of building a base on the moon, the logical extension of Apollo, and from there going on to Mars—not just to visit and collect a few rocks but to actually colonize—died with it.”
Franklin went to the door, opened it, and stepped outside.
“I want you to look out there and picture it ten years from now. This island from end to end will be transformed into the terminal hub. I don’t want any aircraft except those first landing at Tarawa for a rigorous security inspection coming within fifty miles of it; memories of past tragedy and the need for security mean that once the tower is up and functional, no aircraft will be allowed within fifty miles of it. The airfield on this island now is for bringing in the equipment needed to build the infrastructure and support construction, but once completed, except in rare highly secured situations, it will be shut down and converted to other use. Back at Tarawa we’ll have the main international airport hub, then connect it to here via maglev trains.”
“My God, that alone will cost billions,” Gary whispered.
“Yup.”
He gestured around him.
“This island will be the main terminal. Passengers and freight will off-load at Tarawa and be transferred by maglev trains from there to here or to the ocean port to be built at the north end of the island. The main terminal to the tower will be here. I always liked Gothic cathedrals; I’ll show you some concept ideas on the flight back home. Upbound vehicles and cargo pods will start just about where we are standing, ascend an arcing track, then connect to the pillar and go straight up for the three-day journey to geosynch orbit. And from there we can go wherever we want to go. The moon and Mars, where eventually we’ll build towers at a fraction of the cost of this one. And then?”
He laughed softly.
“Eventually the stars.”
He pointed out to sea.
“Can you imagine the pillar—our pillar—out there, less than a mile from where we now stand? Imagine it going straight up, aimed at the noonday sun overhead, and after an hour’s ascent you are in space with a sky full of stars.
“But there is something else to it,” Franklin said, “something not even the two of you have thought of, so focused were you on going up rather than on what would be coming back down.”
“And that is?” Gary asked, feeling a touch defensive with this comment.
“It was the selling point to the president of this good nation, what truly won him over.”
“What is it?” Gary asked again.
“I think we can actually stop global warming if we build this tower.”
Eva actually burst out laughing, but Franklin did not look offended.
“Let me pose a question. If we do agree that CO
2
emissions are the cause, then we agree it is fossil fuel burning that is killing us, and will eventually melt most of the ice in Antarctica and elsewhere above sea level. For these good people of Kiribati, a six- to eight-foot rise in water level will destroy their nation.”
Gary nodded in agreement even as Eva remained silent.
“Or let’s say it is all about solar cycles or whatever. Still we can agree that oil is reaching peak production, it is becoming more expensive by the day to extract each barrel. We will turn back to coal in our desperation, and forests will be leveled—and are being annihilated in most tropical regions. No one wants nukes in their backyard, and the dream of fusion power is decades away, perhaps even a century, and believe me, I am a dreamer and even looked at that seriously at one point as to where to put my money.”
“I don’t get that,” Gary asked. “You thought about fusion as an investment but then switched to space elevators? What is the connection?”
Franklin grinned a bit self-consciously.
“You might think me crazy if I told you the full truth.”
“You dragged us halfway around the world to stand on this baking-hot beach and stare at empty ocean. Maybe we are the ones who are crazy. So I’m ready to listen.”
“In this age it is bad form to say you admire the industrialists of the Gilded Age of the nineteenth century. Nearly every history book brands them now as ‘robber barons.’ Hell, depending on who is in power politically, folks like me are either barely tolerated or outright hounded because someone thinks we built our billions unfairly and the government needs to take it all away. Ironic, because those preaching from such pulpits are using their pads, cell phones, and the Internet to send out their message, and if they get sick, expect the latest ultrasounds, MRIs, laser surgeries, and all the rest to put them back on their feet.
“But I digress. Carnegie built an empire of steel that transformed industrializing America. A few decades later, after turning us into a global power, not even he could see that in the future the foundations he built ensured we had the industrial strength to defeat totalitarianism. Commodore Vanderbilt created a transportation network, and ironically, if you go to western North Carolina, everyone loves the Vanderbilt mansion; their entire tourist economy is based on that, even while some living there would scream for Vanderbilt to be taxed to death if he were alive today. I could go on and on; I guess that historian I have on my staff pumped me up for this. J.P. Morgan builds a banking empire so strong, he actually bailed the entire United States government out of bankruptcy at one point. The Rothschilds created a global banking system; Ford transformed global transportation … The list is endless.”
Again that smile.
“And all of them gave back. Amongst themselves, it was actually considered bad form to check out of life in this world without giving back to the world and trying to make it a better place. And I decided I’ll add my name to the list by helping you two to build this pillar.”
“I’ll agree it will transform space transportation,” Eva offered, “but dare I say, I’m not seeing the rest of your point.”
“What do we have up there that is limitless and free but down here the world is scrambling for, and wars are fought for, and I fear ultimately a final cataclysmic war will eventually be waged over?”
He paused for dramatic effect.
“Energy.”
It was so damn simple, Eva actually started to laugh.
“What in hell is so funny?” Gary asked.
“Solar panels. Hundreds of square miles of solar panels. Hang them from the side of the tower, or position them nearby. Once they’re up high enough, you’ve got sunlight 24/7, 365 days a year,” Franklin explained.
“Tens of gigawatts, hundreds of gigawatts, waiting to be harvested. Eventually the tower is a pipeline. Beam the energy partway down via lasers. But you don’t need hundreds of square miles of collecting stations on earth, which will only work part of the day, and weather messes it up even more, and no one wants to risk the impact to the upper atmosphere of sending it down via microwave. For the final leg down to earth, you have superconductivity cables.”
As Franklin spoke, he traced out a pattern in the sand with the toe of his boot.
“But of course,” Franklin continued, “it is all based here. Traffic going up from this island, limitless energy coming down. Let the oil sheiks have their fantasies awhile longer before sand again engulfs the palaces they build now. Twenty years from now, they’ll be coming here to gaze in wonder, because this will be the energy station of the world.”
His words caused Gary’s initial burst of delight to dampen down significantly.
“Security,” Gary said. “When the world catches on to how this could change the entire economic flow of the planet…” His voice trailed off.
Suddenly his dream had become infinitely more complex, and even a bit frightening.
Franklin did not reply, and walked down to the water’s edge, looking out to sea.
“No one will stop this. We will build it.”
Eva shrugged and smiled.
“You almost sound like a character in the old movies they used to show us in school about Soviet heroes looking off to the horizon, promising a workers’ paradise someday,” and there was a touch of teasing levity in her voice.
Franklin, not insulted, could only grin.
“What the hell, maybe someday they’ll make a movie about us. If so, I want Morgan Freeman to play me, though by then he might be on a bit in years.”
Franklin stood silent and now there was a cold, icy stare. So far they had seen one side of him, and Gary sensed they were also now seeing the other side, that of the businessman who had built an empire.
“What I just told you is in the strictest confidence, never to be repeated at least for a few more months. Any public discussion of this tower is strictly about what is going up, not what I dream will one day be returned. Do we understand each other?”
“Of course,” Gary said, “but I must ask: Why this sudden change in tone?”
“Because, Drs. Morgan, if that half of this plan is ever known, do you realize what economic forces, dependent on fossil fuel for their economies, will unleash everything they have to stop us? They would rather see their profits grow for another generation, two at most, and then the hell with the resulting collapse, even at the cost of the destruction of this beautiful island nation or the kind of world their grandchildren will inherit at the end of this century. You are never to speak a word of this other aspect of the tower until the time is right. I’ll let it leak out bit by bit, but let me decide when. I insist upon that and pray you understand why.”
The two could only nod in agreement, and he relaxed, becoming his affable self again.
“Come on, I’ve got a sick kid to look after,” Eva announced. “We’ll figure out who plays us later in some movie after we build this thing and it works.”
7
Six Months Later
Waking up earlier than usual, which was the norm of late, Gary sipped his coffee while waiting for Eva, gazing out the bay window of their home, which offered a spectacular view of Seattle and Mount Rainer in the distance. With a salary between them of nearly three million a year, and stock options never dreamed of, it was a reality beyond imagining: even though they had earned decent money at Goddard, a quarter of a million a year in D.C. meant living cheek by jowl with the neighbors in a suburb, with a maddening daily commute on the Beltway. They didn’t even have to worry about that now, a company car met them every morning so they could relax and get some work in on the ride to the office. But this morning they were skipping work.
Eva came out of the bedroom dressed simply but as always elegantly in a calf-length white dress. She thanked Gary for the cup of tea he had prepared for her, saying nothing for a moment as she looked out the window.
“Every morning I look out this window and can’t believe what is happening to us,” she whispered. “But, damn, I wish they could change the weather. I’m Ukrainian; you know our flag: yellow bottom half, blue upper half, representing endless fields of grain and crystal-blue skies. What has it been, eight days since we’ve seen the sun?”
“I think ten,” Gary said softly.
She didn’t say anything more. They just walked out the door, taking two windbreakers off the coatrack, then went to the garage to their new Beemer and, still without comment, Eva got behind the wheel and turned on the ignition. It was a silent ride to the clinic that Franklin had insisted they go to as the best in the city. A half hour later, Dr. Bock, one of the country’s leading neurologists, came out to the waiting room and gestured for them to come into his office.
This time there was no small talk, no jokes about what a boring pain Franklin could be if anyone at a party even remotely made a conversation opener about what many now called “Franklin’s Folly.”
“No sense in playing any games and delaying this,” Bock said, and his voice was gentle, his eyes filled with compassion. “You know what I suspected and your tests came back positive.”
Eva struggled for control, her hand reaching out to grasp Gary’s.
“Gary, you have Parkinson’s. In fact, the stage you are at, I suspect you’ve known for maybe a year or more but simply would not face it.”
Gary nodded.
“Nothing worse than the Internet and a Google search when something is bothering you,” Gary finally admitted.
“Why in hell did you not get yourself in to see a doctor on day one?”
“I was rather busy at the time,” Gary offered.
“And you, miss?” Bock asked. “Didn’t you pick up on the early symptoms?”
She gave Bock a guilty look.
“Call it denial,” she whispered. “That and I wanted to believe that with everything that has been happening, it was just simple exhaustion. I thought we’d finally take a vacation for a month and all would be back to normal. The president of Kiribati offered us a cottage on the beach to relax.”
“Some vacation,” Bock muttered. “And let me guess: Franklin would have you two playing politics and, of course, you’d have to go down and see how work was going.”
Gary smiled and shrugged.
“Never thought going to Tarawa would be a vacation,” Gary remarked. “But frankly I really like the president: he’s a decent guy with a vision of the future for his people, no matter how disruptive our presence is. He even offered to help me try to find where my great-uncle died and place a marker there for him. And if you forget about the history and look at the future, it is a beautiful place.”
“Franklin Smith and I go way back,” Bock said, “and unless you scream patient confidentiality, I’m tempted to call him as soon as you leave this office to suggest you two take a vacation even if it is to that island.”
“I’d prefer not,” Gary said.