The Word of God
Godfrey Dearnham, the Cabinet Secretary was referred to by those who knew him as 'God'. Partly it was an obvious abbreviation of his name, but the nickname also referred to the power and influence he wielded, both officially and unofficially. Of course, one never referred to him as 'God' if there was any chance of him hearing, but the appellation was not entirely inappropriate, considering his position: almost the only way to the Prime Minister and the Cabinet was through him, which is why Rebecca Fairthorne had found it necessary to approach him personally.
"The implications of the report are clear enough, but how am I to know whether the evidence justifies the conclusions?" asked the Cabinet Secretary, closing the report before him with an air of either indifference or indecision, Rebecca could not tell which.
"Tell me about the science behind it," he said. "And keep it simple."
"Ice floats. Floating ice won't add to sea levels because it displaces as much water as it contains, so when it melts it doesn't make any difference. That's why your Martini and lemonade doesn't overflow when the ice in it melts."
"Gin and tonic," Dearnham observed irrelevantly. "Go on."
"Ice makes a difference only when it isn't floating," Rebecca continued. "Clear so far?"
The Cabinet Secretary nodded and Rebecca continued, "Most of the Antarctic ice doesn't float. Part of it is resting on mountain tops, islands if you like, the bottom of the ice in the water but not floating. On top is a huge thickness of glacier. And we're talking about thousands of cubic miles of ice."
The Cabinet Secretary nodded again.
"What our submarines have established is that the ice around these islands is breaking up. It's going to let most of the Eastern Antarctic ice shelf slide into the water. That will raise sea levels by a huge amount and over a very short period. That's what the report is saying."
"I see." Godfrey Dearnham thought about it. "By how much are sea levels likely to rise?"
"That depends on how much of the ice shelf slides into the sea. Not less than two metres and probably not more than about four and a half metres," answered Rebecca Fairthorne, one of Ministry of Defence's most senior scientists. Senior in rank and respect rather than age, that is.
"Between just over six feet and almost fifteen feet. Over what period of time?"
"Again, very hard to say exactly, because it would depend on tides and currents, but not long. A year or two at the most, I would say," she told him.
"And most crucial of all. When?"
"That's the most difficult prediction of all to make. The process has begun. The bulk of the ice shelf could begin its slide into the sea tomorrow or the main collapse of the ice may not happen for eight or ten years."
The Cabinet Secretary thought about it in silence for a time. "Could be as much as two elections before it happens," he said.
Rebecca could not see the relevance of the remark and asked him what he meant.
Godfrey Dearnham maintained his silence, his eyes cast a little down and his whole expression rather vacant. He drummed lightly and absently with his fingers of the folder. Abruptly he seemed to reach a decision of some sort.
"And what course of action would you recommend?" he asked, rather brusquely.
A little taken aback by the question she struggled for an answer. "Well," she said, "The cabinet have to make contingency plans."
"I thought you said it was inevitable. You can only make plans for a contingency which might occur, if it also might not occur."
"Make plans then."
"What plans?"
Rebecca considered. "To move people and plant to higher ground before the floods," she said.
"Most people won't move until they see the waters rise for themselves. A lot of Americans don't even listen to hurricane or tornado warnings and people live on the slopes of active volcanos like Mount Etna. As for plant, you can't move something like, say, the Circle Line Tube or Victoria Station."
"We'll need an alternative capital," said Rebecca with an edge of desperation. "London will be flooded."
"If the government announce somewhere else as capital without an obvious and immediate threat there will be widespread opposition. Think of all the companies with their head offices in London. They wouldn't be very pleased to see their investment going to nothing. They would donate large sums of money to the other parties, the government would lose the election and any plans would be reversed. The only thing we'd achieve would be the government party losing an election."
Now Rebecca was becoming desperate. "But we have to do something to avoid loss of life," she said.
"You said yourself that the whole process will take up to two years. There'll be plenty of time to get out of the way and it will only take a week or so to mobilise the army to rescue any stragglers."
"But what about the homeless? Millions will lose their homes. And their jobs."
"They're going to lose their homes anyway. You can't tell everybody in low lying areas to sell their homes and move because there's no point in buying a house in a low lying area and you can't sell if there's no one to buy."
"We could compensate them."
"No government wants to pay more in compensation than it can avoid and the level of compensation will be a lot lower when everyone can see the scale of the problem for themselves."
"And what about low lying countries like the Maldives or Bangladesh?" she asked. "Most of Bangladesh will disappear along with all of the Maldives."
"Knowing that they're going drown isn't going to help them avoid it, and we won't have room for any more people here."
By now Rebecca was really desperate. "There won't even be enough land left to grow the food needed to feed the population," she said.
"Ah,' Dearnham acknowledged, "now I do agree with you there," he said. "What's more, with industry severely curtailed and no ports, we wouldn't be able to rely on imports. It might be necessary to reduce the population somewhat. However," he continued, "The cabinet will be too squeamish to realistically prepare for that problem. You had better leave it to me."
"Do you mean that you're not even going to tell them?" Rebecca was incredulous.
"Absolutely," agreed the Cabinet Secretary. "Who have you discussed this report with?"
"No one. Just one or two junior staff in my department. It's my report."
Godfrey considered this information. "And the submarine captain concerned. Does he understand the implications of the observations he made?" he asked.
"Not all the implications, no, I don't suppose so."
"Good. Now if you would just wait outside for a moment."
Rebecca Fairthorne reluctantly went out into the lobby while the Cabinet Secretary picked up the phone. He dialled himself, rather than asking his Secretary to get the number. It rang.
"Hello, Simon, God here. The PM needs a little help from MI5 with some aspects of a problem we have. There's a report kicking around the M.o.D. which has the potential to be dangerously subversive. I'd like you to have any hard copies picked up and recover the computer disks as well ... Yes, it might be as well to wipe the compute completely. Then I'd like a 'D' notice slapped on a nuclear submarine report, I'm sure you'll be able to take care of that with no problems. However, there is a further delicate little matter .... ... Yes, the author of the report ... Actually she's just outside my office at the moment .... At No 10, Yes ... All right, I'll have her back in and offer her tea ... I'll keep her busy until your man gets here ... Yes, he can give her a lift somewhere or other quiet ... I knew you'd sort it out. Rid me of this turbulent scientist, as it were."