will produce enough warming to release vast amounts of CO2 from the Martian polar caps and soil. The thickening of the atmosphere will trap more heat, releasing even more gas. By raising the planet’s temperatures a mere twenty to thirty degrees Celsius, you start a runaway greenhouse effect.’
‘You’re going to terraform Mars?’ The president sits back, light-headed. ‘How soon?’
Alyssa Popov shrugs. ‘With HOPE’s resources, we can have the first of these AGMs pumping within three years. In a decade, we’ll have hundreds, enough to produce the gases necessary for a Martian atmosphere. Some of the colony’s materials can be mined from the planet’s two moons-our probes have detected usable concentrations of iridium and aluminum just beneath the surface of the Mars moon, Phobos. If all goes well, by 2070, the inhabitants of our colony might even be able to breathe Martian air without the use of pressurized suits.’
Zwawa stands. Paces. ‘How many? How many lives can we save before the doomsday event takes place?’
Alyssa looks at Lilith, then back at the president. ‘With the discovery of a second Mars aquifer, the colony can support as many as ten thousand people.’
‘Ten thousand? Ten thousand out of seven billion? And who decides who goes? You, Ms. Popov? You, Lilith?’
‘Actually, yes.’ Lilith’s azure eyes sparkle violet in the light.
‘This is barbaric.’
‘It is what it is. Face facts, John. This planet’s been overpopulated for decades. In a sense, an ice age is Earth’s way of cleansing itself. If history has taught us anything, it’s that those who can adapt survive, while the weak among us perish. It’s nature’s way.’
‘How can you be so cold-hearted?’
‘Sir, those chosen will be contributing members of New Earth. Scientists and high-tech farmers, engineers, physicians, and skilled laborers. We’ll start humanity over again using the best of the best-’
‘-and the wealthiest, of course,’ Lilith chimes in. ‘To pull this off requires vast sums of money-money that cannot be allocated through Congress, unless you want planetwide anarchy. I’ve already started dialogue with CEOs of the Fortune 100s and a dozen private bankers, all of whom are dying-excuse the pun-to invest in HOPE’s Mars Colony.’
Zwawa sits back in his chair, the blood draining from his face. ‘If you don’t need federal funding, then why are you even coming to me?’
‘First,’ Alyssa says, ‘because we need your support in shutting down the handful of government and private agencies who might accidentally stumble across the truth. Yellowstone must be shut down to all nonessential personnel. We have a few emergency scenarios in mind, toxic sulfur leak, that sort of thing.’
‘Second,’ Lilith says, ‘because HOPE requires information and access that only you can provide.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Sir, to build Mars colony will take hundreds of supply missions. At present, it still takes NASA six full months and a helluva a lot of fuel to reach Mars. But if we could harness a different source of fuel, say… zero-point energy-’
‘-then,’ finishes Lilith, ‘we could cut the costs and travel time by a huge margin.’
‘Zero-point energy? Don’t know anything about that-’
‘Of course you do, Mr. Former Vice President.’ Lilith slips behind his desk and rubs his temples, registering the cold sweat dampening the man’s hairline. ‘What I need from you is complete access and control over Project GOLDEN FLEECE, and John… I want it now.’
29
1:14 p.m.
They are seated on a second-floor balcony overlooking a Japanese garden-Dr. Mohr, Immanuel Gabriel, his mother, and the twin he has not seen in six years.
Jacob’s surreal blue eyes stare at him, unblinking.
‘Jesus Christ, would you stop staring at me?’
‘I missed you.’
‘You mean you missed manipulating me.’
‘You’re my twin. We belong together.’
‘Get over it. You can’t just drag me back into your delusions after all these years. I’m Samuel Agler now. I have a life!’
Dr. Mohr interjects. ‘Let’s everybody just stay calm. No one’s forcing anyone to do anything. Manny, er… Sam, we brought you here because your brother’s worried about you.’
‘You’ve been tapping into the nexus,’ Jacob says, ‘using it to enhance your performance on the athletic field.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘It’s dangerous, Manny. There are others like us out there, others who share this Hunahpu gene. Every time you enter the nexus, you make your presence known to them.’
‘How many others?’
‘I don’t know, one… a hundred… a thousand.’
‘A thousand more freaks like you running around? I doubt it.’
Jacob ignores the remark. ‘Eleven thousand years ago, the Guardian began an interbreeding program with ancient man. The Guardian is mankind’s missing link. In the process of mixing their DNA with ours, they created a sort of genetic time bomb, hoping that one of these Hunahpu would find his or her way to their starship in the year 2012. The Hunahpu would be able to use their genetic calling card to access the vessel and its weapons system, knowing the human race would need it on 4 Ahau, 3 Kankin, a date forecast in the Mayan calendar, equating to the winter solstice in 2012. Our biological father, Michael Gabriel, was Hunahpu. He wasn’t the only “chosen one,” he just happened to be the poor sap who managed to cross the finish line first.’
‘And thank God he did,’ Dominique adds. ‘Your father saved humanity.’
Immanuel shakes his head at his mother. ‘Still buying into all this, I see.’
Jacob sees the hurt in Dominique’s eyes. ‘Mother, Doc, I need to speak with Manny alone.’
Dr. Mohr nods, then leads Dominique inside, closing the patio door behind him.
‘That was rude, Manny.’
‘Look who’s calling the kettle black? Her heart bleeds for him, and you stomp on it every day.’
‘I didn’t bring you here to fight. There’s another Hunahpu out there like me. She’s the one I fear.’
Immanuel looks away.
Jacob’s eyes widen. ‘You’ve spoken with her?’
‘No.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘Maybe she spoke with me.’
‘Maybe?’
‘Look, I’ll stay out of the zone. I was planning on quitting football anyway.’
‘Manny, this is way beyond your football career. This is about you finally accepting who and what we really are.’
‘Here we go again.’
A violet tinge appears in Jacob’s eyes as he loses his temper. Grabbing an empty chair, he flings it over the balcony rail.
Manny’s eyes widen. ‘Well, well, what happened to Mister Transcendental Meditation?’
