African Monsoon Read online

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  Brad touched the HoloCube to connect Niamey and London. The other two faces formed in the cube, joining him across the virtual meeting table for Chirpfeed transmission.

  “What’s our status please?” Tamanna asked. She’d need a military technical update for the High Impact Minister.

  “Our American carrier is three hundred miles past Cape Verde coming south,” Brad said. “The Chinese carrier passed within fifty miles of Saint Helena territorial waters approximately ten hours ago bearing north towards Ascension Island.”

  “They’re both close?”

  “They’ll be within fighter jet launch range within two hours.”

  As Tamanna filed her ministerial report, and Vince rose to shift pins on the Niamey paper map, Brad went over one last time his take on what best to say.

  Asia showed an ever growing interest in a Green Sahara, with active Chinese land speculation deals going down on the sand dunes around Agadez. The Chinese may have subsidized biochar for agriculture, that looking good in the public eye, but a bigger monsoon in the background would surely boost biochar soil creation. The Chinese would be keeping a close eye on enhanced food production in a place like the sulphur-cooled Sahara. How many Asians could be planning to emigrate to the newly greened Sahara to set up shop? Which political negotiators signed long term trade deals on a potentially huge food export market?

  Tamanna returned attention to the cube.

  “We want to send the Chinese incentive,” Brad said. “To call back their carrier.”

  “Brilliant, however the Chinese monsoon back home for them, Brad, has reduced in size due to carbon-warming,” Tamanna said. “China has serious incentive to seek alternatives to their rice growing loss.”

  “That’s about food,” Brad said. “We’ve got military involved.”

  “Food’s one thing people bicker over,” Tamanna said. “With armies.”

  “America standing with NATO allies is not a question,” Brad said.

  “American and NATO may condemn the High Impact Countries’ incursion into atmospheric space with sulphur emissions,” the British scientist said. “But HIC rightfully holds them responsible for historic dumping of carbon emissions into the same airspace.”

  “So that’s our situation.” Vince returned to cube, listening. “We speak to that, Brad.”

  “Right. Let’s finalize the points you guys are gonna make,” Brad said. “Our broadcast has to send a strong statement, to the carriers, and to the people of the world.”

  “We build story around your science, Tamanna,” Vince said. “We bring in the Dabous Giraffes, for sure.”

  “The Vostok ice core?” Tamanna asked.

  “No,” Brad said. “Science overload there.”

  The naturally caused historical Green Sahara, Tamanna had explained, also known as the Neolithic Subpluvial, had actually been caused by a variation in the planet’s tilt and the effect that had on African monsoons. But that story was a hard sell like analyzing annual ice deposition in that Vostok core.

  “I apologize for my own country,” Vince said. “Canada’s inaction for so long.”

  “We can’t voice national regret,” Brad said. “Nor any personal heart throb.”

  The looked at each other for a moment.

  “The High Impact case for extra climate cooling.” Tamanna said. “Knowing they can extra cool the planet.”

  “Below pre-industrial—that’s real. If we need to.” Brad said. “Military pays attention to any threat.”

  “No climate transition goes smooth,” Tamanna reminded them of a Vostok core detail on climate history. “The Sahara grew larger during the Younger Drydas, when climate shifted to colder globally.”

  “If colder made for bigger desert then, why not now?” Brad shook his head. “Our message has to be clear.”

  “That historical event was naturally incurred in association with the global climate of an Ice Age ending,” Tamanna said. “Our efforts will be human planned, and regionally we know we will reduce the desert.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Brad said. “How do we start?”

  “We weave the tilted earth axis in with the Dabous Giraffes,” Vince said. “More story than science. Remember, talk parasol along with aerosol, and atmosphere or upper air to help with stratosphere.”

  “You tell story,” Brad said. “Tamanna does science.”

  When they told the six Sahel presidents how to best spend the Asian billions, Tamanna said they could increase their balloon release of sulphur dioxide into the continental stratosphere. But, she made it scientifically clear, the benefits of a mid-Atlantic release would be huge. Worth a certain risk. Recreating the Green Sahara based on the Nigerien balloon release was more political hype than science, and the best the Nigerien president could hope for there had been more rain. Maybe like decades ago. When Vince came in with the story of the historical green Sahara, the presidents perked up. That could be returned by cool breezes and refreshing Sahel rains, and the giraffe mystique of the millennial African past. All with the awe yet real world task of a mid-Atlantic high altitude direct release from a jet. The presidents nodded, having chatted about arriving in their own jets.

  Brad eyed the others as he counted down from ten, and touched Chirpfeed.

  “Hello. My name is Brad Moore and I’m an aeronautical engineer.” He opened his arms towards the other two as if a practiced TV host. Keeping face focused on HoloCube, he projected the feeling of experts gathered at a distinct moment.

  “I want to introduce you to Dr. Tamanna Meacham, a scientist and paleoclimatologist, and Vince Patel here is a chemical engineer. We are speaking to you from an unarmed jet now leaving the west coast of Africa, and we will, in about three hours, arrive at a point just below the equator in the middle of the Atlantic ocean.”

  “If you’ve been following COP 33 in the news,” Tamanna spoke up. “You may have heard of the mainland African balloon initiative in the national airspace of Niger and other Sahel countries.”

  Brad nodded as Vince brought a globe into the hover space, running a finger across the Sahara, and the Sahel just below.

  “So that balloon release contains a climate cooling substance,” Vince said. “A sun shade that will mirror back a little of the extra sunshine to cool us off a bit.”

  “Sulphur dioxide aerosol can cool our planet,” Brad said. Seeing Vince wince, he slowed. “Or, a part of the planet, like North Africa. We’re sending mini parasols up into the high atmosphere to cool the Sahara desert.”

  Brad waved towards Vince.

  Vince picked up on the parasols that rhymed with aerosols, shifting tone to talk as if telling story to a child. Not so long ago...but well before the Europeans came, the people of Dabous, where the Sahara desert is now, carved giraffes into stone. Beautiful giraffes, one male and one female, he said, pointing to a spot on the globe. The Dabous Giraffes tell us of a time when the Sahara was green enough for the African animals we all know. And, giraffes eat tree leaves, so back then enough rain fell for trees to grow. Back then, science tells us, a wobble in the Earth’s axis pointed our little planet a little more towards the sun. The extra sunshine we got then warmed up the Sahara even more.

  “No way we can tilt our planet.” Brad said.

  “Absolutely not,” Vince chimed in. “But we have another plan.”

  “Still, c’mon.” Brad said. “You said the tilt warmed up the Sahara. We want cooler.”

  “Science tells us...” Vince looked to Tamanna.

  “Bizarre, truly, but amazingly, extra heat reduces the desert,” the British scientist explained. “Our climate doesn’t always work as you might think. What happens in this case is, extra heat rises drawing air in off the ocean. That’s the basic monsoon effect. For the Sahara, more heat stimulates the West African monsoon drawing more humid air in off the Atlantic. And all that humid ocean air dumps a lot of extra rain.”

  “Yes.”

  “Rain.”

  “Like a big vac
uum sucking in rain clouds,” Vince said. “That’s what makes a Green Sahara. The Dabous people back then would have cheered on all that extra green desert. Today, we can cheer on our little aerosol parasols.”

  “To stimulate the West African monsoon today,” Tamanna said, looking to Vince. “And to recreate what the Dabous people had, we need a regional cooling out over the mid-Atlantic. To enhance a Green Sahara plan, we gain extra ocean impact on stimulating the monsoon.”

  “A hot desert beside a cold ocean makes a bigger monsoon,” Vince said. “And that pulls rain up into the Sahara.”

  “And,” Tamanna said. “We propose this Green Sahara will bring harm to no one. The bonus will be a slight cooling to offset global warming.”

  “No harm at all?” Vince asked. “No risk?”

  Brad caught sight of new icons appearing on the screen map. He glanced away from Holocube to see jet fighter squadrons launching off the aircraft carriers. Looking back at the others, he kept silent estimating flight times.

  All factors considered, this proposal made for their best compromise for regional cooling, Tamanna had said. She argued that any acid rain or stratospheric ozone depletion would be minimal over an extremely arid and relatively uninhabited desert. Same over the Atlantic.

  “Actually, we have an overall bright outlook,” Tamanna said. Brad let her explain how their parasol would drift south down the middle of the Atlantic towards Antarctica, maybe disrupting mid-ocean weather patterns, but impacting very few citizens. Vince followed her story running a finger down the globe. Stratospheric drift was polewards, like north of the Sahel over the Sahara desert where so few people lived so far. No one gets disturbed cause no one lives there. She couldn’t say where the sulphur spread was based on high elevation winds and risk analysis.

  “The stratosphere’s way up high,” Vince put in. “Many miles above us. You might one day soon come on vacation to see live giraffes around the Dabous rocks.”

  “How’re we tracking the sulphur, post release?” Brad asked, watching the fighter jet blimps line up on an intercept course. They needed switch to a science focus.

  “Satellite imagery partially,” Tamanna said. “Partly our climate model. We have weather happening at the bottom of the stratosphere, so at mid-Atlantic we go higher, and the process goes smoother.”

  “Unfortunately,” Brad looked directly into the cube, at the world out there. “Any operation carried out in international airspace holds political risk. At this moment we have aircraft carriers approaching our jet from two directions, and we’re really hoping they’ll talk to each other.”

  They all looked at each other.

  “This isn’t a two way standoff, but a three way,” Brad spoke carefully. He was in a fighter jet of a different type. America and NATO wanted status quo, the Asian Alliance wanted to experiment and Africa wanted to roll the dice on a desert replaced by forest with a shot at a cooler planet. “What else do the High Impact countries say on global cooling?” Brad asked, looking to the scientist.

  “The presidents of the Sahel countries are growing quite popular,” Tamanna said, equally cautiously. “When they talk about the Green Sahara, when they bring up the idea of a planet cooler than pre-industrial, they’re hearing cheers. They’ve got a popular conversation going around a negative 1C degree world.”

  “That would be like,” Brad said, “a mini Ice Age.”

  “Only in high latitude regions like Europe or North America,” Tamanna said. “A cooler day in Africa rings as appealing as a warm day in the north.”

  “Not good for everyone,” Brad said.

  “Climate inaction hasn’t been either,” Tamanna said.

  Brad sensed a moment to close the conversation; just as well on those notes of dramatic doom.

  “There you have it folks,” Brad said. “Reporting from our unarmed jet.”

  Signing off Chirpfeed transmit, Brad took a deep breath. “Okay guys.”

  “Alright bud,” Vince said.

  “I’ve got the minister on,” Tamanna said.

  The powers that be need talk directly to diffuse any military standoff. Lifting hand to eyebrow, Brad saluted whatever decision was to be made in the war room, and the world out there. A tear rolled down his cheek.