TWENTY-TWO

The United Nations General Assembly, New York City

The U.N. had urged the Conference on Climate and Global Warming to hold its emergency session in the General Assembly chambers. The consensus was that a mind-bending climate disaster was fast approaching. What better place to discuss the future of planet earth?

No one was surprised that Dr. Robert Hamilton had not been invited to speak, not even at one of the smaller breakout sessions. Henry Smithson had used his influence to ensure that. But a few of his professional colleagues suggested that Hamilton’s controversial theory should be heard, maybe at some future conference.

Vice President Jessica Tulrude gave the opening address. She talked tough about the need for “the community of nations to forge a courageous agreement to save our way of life, no matter what the political backlash.” Several climatologists reported on their findings, and they all agreed, with only minor variations, that the recent planetary spike in temperatures presented a worst-case scenario. Earth was now in the early stages of catastrophic global warming as a result of human-created carbon dioxide emissions. Admittedly, it had happened faster than anyone had calculated, but the question now went far beyond abstract theory. It was a question of human survival.

Some of the morning editions of the international news outlets had previewed what would be discussed at the conclave. The global conference sponsors had given them talking points, couching the issues in less-than-apocalyptic terms so that the general population wouldn’t react with riots, but the message was dramatic enough to still ring like a fire bell. The press release read:

It was Romanian ambassador Alexander Coliquin’s address that was to draw all the presentations together. The plan was for him to introduce Caesar Demas, the international financier and consultant to numerous heads of state, second richest man in the world. Demas was privately reputed to be the most powerful nongovernmental person in the world. As it turned out, Coliquin’s remarks went beyond mere introduction.

Coliquin’s warmly intelligent, winsome style was much different from that of the arrogantly brilliant and aggressive Caesar Demas. While Demas had changed the face of international politics by the sheer force of his personality and wealth, Coliquin was more personal, more focused, and he had been, at least up to now, much more private. He had personally supported orphanages in Romania and other former Soviet bloc countries and helped to start leper hospitals in Africa, but he ferociously avoided media interviews about his good-Samaritan gestures. Coliquin was younger and enjoyed glamorous good looks, but like Caesar Demas, he was gifted with genius. With a Ph.D. in international finance from the London School of Economics, and another degree from the Sorbonne in Paris, Coliquin was a masterful communicator. Yet according to some pundits, he lacked the ability to “go for the jugular.” His friendly demeanor hinted that he lacked the killer instincts of a truly successful geopolitician. But things would change that day.

Earlier a limo had stopped near the north plaza of the U.N. building. The door opened. When Alexander Coliquin’s ridiculously expensive custom-made Berluti wing tip shoes stepped out of the black sedan, more than a thousand adoring fans were waiting to cheer him. No one knew how the climate activists had learned of his arrival. For them, he was the combination of a rock star and a latter-day Albert Schweitzer. The conference delegates had apparently never considered the possibility that Coliquin had already gained a following among the ecology and global-warming groups. Some conference leaders speculated that Coliquin himself must have orchestrated the impressive lovefest outside of the U.N., but they couldn’t prove it.

Their underestimation of Coliquin was even more surprising given his track record in promoting the CReDO. With his acumen in finance, he was a natural promoter of this new global currency. Even Jessica Tulrude, who sold the Corland administration and Congress on joining the new currency, had to admit that he had a certain administrative genius.

In his address to the more than eighteen hundred delegates at the conference — scientists, politicians, writers, leaders of ecological NGOs, and others — Coliquin explained that he would be introducing “that brilliant, international treasure known as Caesar Demas” but added, “rest assured, though, that I have not come to bury Caesar, but to praise him!”

After the warm laughter died down, it didn’t take him long to bring the audience into the core of his sobering message. Borrowing from the poet T. S. Eliot, he warned, “If we do not today begin a revolutionary new approach to controlling the factors that are destroying our climate, then we will see the poet’s horrifying vision of a world that ends ‘not with a bang, but a whimper.’ ”

The camera shutters from the media box fluttered like a million locusts as he spoke. He struck a good pose with his athletic physique, well-fitted Italian suit, and Hollywood face framed by boyishly tousled hair. Coliquin previewed the plan that Demas would explain in his remarks: a global treaty giving extraordinary powers to an international climate-control coalition, which would study all industrial sources of CO₂ emissions and would police with an iron hand the activities of all companies, enterprises, and nations that in any way contributed to global warming.

But there was one lingering question, a practical one. What could bring the community of nations to agree to this startling new approach when so many attempts at global-warming conventions had failed in the past? Doubters pointed to the failed Kyoto Protocols from decades before. What would motivate the citizens of the world to embrace this new way of thinking?

Coliquin had an answer. “The solution to this crisis is not just political,” he said, “nor is it just scientific. I believe in the final analysis the real remedy will elude us until we grasp the fact that this is ultimately a crisis of faith. We have in our midst today leaders from all the world’s religions. In addition, there are representatives from the World Church Coalition, the Global Coalition of Religions, and many other ecumenical organizations. Most of the denominations of Christendom are represented here in this room. I have met privately with all of these leaders, and it is no accident that they all share a common element of faith — preservation of the earth. Christians believe in the redemptive act of Jesus who died ‘for the whole world.’ We must finish the work of Jesus and redeem the climate. And doesn’t Buddha himself say that nature shows us the way to Dharma? The Hindus know that Krishna was a lover of nature and nurtured it in his lifetime. And the Muslims understand the directive of the Qur’an, that Allah makes us guardians of the earth and ‘loves not those who are wasteful of it.’ ”

With a smile, Coliquin began wrapping it up. “It would seem that God Himself is here today, and I think He’s mad at our squandering and destruction of His majestic creation. He’s sad that we have failed to solve this problem until now. But more than anything, I believe that God is urging us to unite. One family of people. One opportunity. One great mission. To save our one, common earth. The only earth we shall ever have.”

The speech was electrifying. The delegates rose to their feet. Men and women from the four corners of the earth were, for one brief moment, united. Their applause thundered through the great chambers of the United Nations.

Coliquin waited until the very last hand had ceased clapping. Then he made the required introduction: “Now for a more important voice than mine. Caesar Demas has been called by the International Journal of News one of the most influential men of the century. That is an understatement. Caesar has unparalleled access to the most powerful leaders on the planet. His brilliant global negotiations have brought us to this point, this conference, this moment in history. If we succeed in saving the human race from the disastrous rise in global temperatures, we have one man to thank — our next speaker. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mr. Caesar Demas!”

As Demas strode confidently to the rostrum, he gave Coliquin an uneasy smile and a quick handshake. As his introducer stepped away, Demas threw an almost imperceptible glance at Coliquin’s back, a look of camouflaged contempt for his scene-stealing speech. But Demas was ready to launch into his own explosive address. Regardless of his feelings about this Romanian upstart, Demas knew that the crowd had been ignited. That was good. Now all he had to do was to fan the flames.