Read by Jeremiah O'Connor (third story in podcast, here)
It’s not perfect, but they’ve done it. It will be presented tomorrow by the team leader (nerdy Portuguese save-the-bees guy, remember him?). The invite has been sent out to all members of the club. See you there.
That’s what the email had said. Wilson had bum sweat, which meant he was excited. He hadn’t expected his money to deliver results so soon. Maybe ever, in truth. The door opened and in came Tiago. Small frame, kind face.
An image filled a giant screen. “Thank you for the honour of selecting me to present our project to you.” A subtle accent cradled his Queen’s English.
“Not at all Tiago. You were chosen as a consequence of your intellect and involvement in the project. Please, begin the presentation.”
“Our think tank has spent the last six years attempting to resolve the problem as defined in the Humanity Eternal project. We have been able to dedicate our best minds at full time, courtesy of some of you here today.”
The room was silent.
Click.
“It is my pleasure to announce that a successful model has been found with a 97.77% certainty rate, correct to two decimal places.”
Some gasps rose from the small audience.
“The model has been run on the order of ten times ten to the power of sixty-four. This has been possible thanks to the supercomputer technology that has been made available.”
Click.
“We shall now discuss the inputs of the model.”
Wilson glanced at his wife, Melissa. Her nails were digging into his palms. She continued to look ahead.
Click.
“The data from our sensors deep in the earth and the satellites around our planet have allowed our machine learning algorithms to develop a reliable predictor of the exacerbation of climate conditions leading to human death. Our engine can produce the probabilistic outcome of human deaths from diseases, natural disasters, floods, heatwaves, forest fires, etcetera, as a result of climate change.”
Tiago paused to clear his throat.
“For example, between now and the end of this meeting in fifteen minutes, our lack of climate action will lead to an estimated one hundred and thirty-six deaths. How do we know this? We tell the engine that we will continue to follow the existing ‘No Specific Action’ course for fifteen more minutes.”
Shocked glances. A distant ringing phone, silenced.
“If we permit the ‘No Specific Action’ course to play out fully—that is, we allow the capitalist markets to try to resolve this themselves—the total death toll in 2155 will be 8.5 billion. Though this suggests there will be survivors, we urge caution: the model gives no data beyond this point because the atmosphere will have entered a new equilibrium whose conditions are uncertain. Put simply, we do not know if humanity will be able to adapt to this new climate, let alone breathe the surrounding air. As you all know, the Humanity Eternal Project was conceived in order to propose some alternative scenarios to this outcome.”
Click.
“The fundamental issue we are faced with has long been known: the planet cannot absorb greenhouse gases at the rate at which we are producing them. The scope of the project has been to consider the ideal population of the planet which will sustain human life for an indeterminate length of time.”
Click.
“With the new datasets from collaborative media partners, we know the greenhouse gas emissions per person, per day. According to the selection of people to remove from the model, we can directly determine the point at which a loss of climate equilibrium is averted, and humanity is ultimately saved.”
A voice rose up: “What does he mean by people to remove from the model?”
“For example, if we merely remove the top 9.2 percent of human emitters by the end of this year, we will reach peak carbon in less than a decade, and begin our path to neutrality. This is the best option, with the lowest number of people affected. Life as we know it will continue.”
Another voice: “Remove? Does he mean to kill?”
Wilson found himself clenching his teeth.
Yet another voice: “What! Is this a threat!?”
In front of the angering crowd, Tiago moved a trembling hand to his mouth.
“SILENCE!” Wilson was standing on the stage. “Nobody should be shocked here. You heard the man. If we do not act, people will die. If one person may die so one hundred more may yet live, is that not the greater good? If a thousand people may die for the continuation of our species, and the countless creatures that we share our planet with, is that not the greater good? Ladies and gentlemen, I demand your intelligence and presence of mind!”
“Wilson, he is talking about the top emitters. Many of those are in this very room!”
“Thank you for addressing the real issue. Tiago was giving that as an example. As you very well know, we are all here to decide the subgroups that will be affected. So of course, everyone here and their connections, up to two degrees of separation, are safe. Tiago has already been asked to factor this into the model.”
The audience collectively relaxed its shoulders. Tiago was breathing heavily.
“That is all for the presentation on the model. A round of applause for Tiago and his team, please!”
The audience, understanding now paving the way for excitement, made their appreciation known.
“You have each been shared an application that will help you make your selections on the subgroups to remove. Melissa and I ask you all to finalise your choices by our next meeting in precisely 24 hours. We shall take a cross section of all our decisions and proceed to execute. Each of your submissions will be weighted equally. Choose wisely, for our humanity depends on it!”
Everything went dark.
Wilson slipped off his headset. The foam around the Virtual goggles was damp with sweat. He felt tired, but his heart shone with elation.
“Melissa!”
“What the fuck Wilson?!” Melissa walked into the room, headset still strapped to her forehead. Partner more than wife, friend more than lover. A voice of reason in his sometimes cacophonous mind.
“I’m losing my godforsaken shit here. Since god damn when was killing humans the only viable path?”
“Melissa please, we’ve talked about this.”
“What? We’ve talked about being the biggest evil megalomaniacs humanity has ever seen? FORGIVE ME BUT IT APPEARS TO HAVE SLIPPED MY FUCKING MEMORY!”
*
Later, in the library. Brandy on the rocks.
“So Melissa, as I said, the project was requested because we knew that putting the fate of humanity in the hands of the market was not a viable option.”
“Yes, fine. But there are many ways of manipulating the market that do not involve… you know.”
“You are absolutely right. The options are: One; produce less greenhouse gases. Two; help the Earth absorb more greenhouse gases. Last of all; reduce the human population. Much of our efforts in the first two thirds of this century have been on options One and Two. Remember those machines that suck CO2 out of the atmosphere, condense it, and pack it deep into the ground? This is what the market is focusing on right now, and it’s not going to save us. All this technology can ultimately achieve is kick the can a little further down the road.”
“What makes you so sure? We might come up with something really great. What about those new Solar Plants that are expected to be twice as efficient as nuclear power?”
“Tell me Melissa, despite our endless improvements, has the rate of greenhouse gas emissions decreased even once since the year 2000?”
Silence.
“Let me tell you—it hasn’t. We have continued to emit more of these gases than the previous year, every year since the start of recorded data. Our technology is not fixing the fundamental problem. I have spent the last thirty years of my life creating new technology, new solutions, but all that has done is allow the human population to continue its dramatic growth. We continue to push the limits of this earth. Whenever a new piece of technology cuts the planet some slack, we gobble it up as fast as we can. We are incurable.”
“I see.”
“The choice is therefore singular. Accept death or take drastic measures to save a select group.”
Wilson and Melissa sat in silence for a while.
“Wilson, if we save those rich bastards like you said, we’re not fixing anything. They will continue destroying the world and inevitably, humanity will find itself here again, on the cusp. It would be essential to eliminate the egotistical members in the club. Like Stacey. She still owns that illegal oil fracking empire.”
Wilson looked forlorn. “Nobody has access to the source code, Melissa. As you can imagine, it was done under the highest security measures. An individual programmer working on the project would not even know how his piece of code fits into the whole.”
“Wilson, are you or are you not the richest man in the world?”
*
Over the next twenty-four hours, the members of the club made their selections. Presidents, royalty, business tycoons, financial leaders, media moguls, oil giants, oligarchs: the greatest fifty-two men and twelve women of power on planet earth cancelled their agendas, poured themselves a stiff one, and sat down quietly to take the most important decisions that were ever to be taken in the history of humanity.
The first few billion were surprisingly easy to select. A whole continent. We won’t be needing that. A group of countries. Don’t know anyone from there. Rural lands. Minimal impact. The nobodies of the world dropped into the pot. Each counted little of course, for they were often lower emitters, but they were many. After that, even with the personal enemies thrown in, it got a bit trickier. There were some tears. But when the clock chimed the 24 hour mark, all the submissions had been made.
*
The second meeting commenced. Wilson and a fidgety Tiago were up on stage, explaining that the cross-section of the data sets was currently being produced. The results would be deliberately kept confidential.
Another vote was held in which the date and time of the removal was to take place.
All was set.
*
Most of the members turned up to the room designated for the event. The virtual server created an environment resembling a Caribbean resort, with beach volley, emerald sea, and scantily clad simulated ladies. In the sky, a giant ceiling of statistics could be pondered upon. The attendees lounged in chairs and chatted amongst one another.
Finally the time came.
It was slow at first.
In a living room in London, a pensioner dropped dead. He cracked his forehead against a chair, smashing his headset.
A leathered old lady in the Australian bush, government-issued biometric ID in her satchel, fell like an autumn leaf.
For many it happened in the first instant. For others, it was the news of the event that dragged them to their devices. The bar charts and statistics in the virtual sky ballooned.
Wilson, Melissa and a few others were playing volleyball. As Wilson prepared to receive the service from Stacey, she vanished. The ball dropped to the ground.
“What happened to Stacey? Don’t tell me somebody picked Stacey?!”
Wilson looked at Melissa. She looked straight back, expressionless.
One by one, the planet’s wealthiest vanished from the virtual world. In the real one they were collapsing, neurons fried by the deathly signal emitted by the countless devices that plagued their houses, living rooms, and bodies.
Wilson and Melissa dared not move until they were alone on the sand. Then they came close, and hugged. Melissa was crying, and so was Wilson.
“It’s over,” said Wilson. “Tiago agreed this morning.”
In his arms, Melissa vanished. In the moment of astonishment that followed, Wilson did nothing. Then, he vanished too.
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