FIVE

Washington, D.C.

Mike Leaky sat at his desk eating a Cuban sandwich and slurping Mountain Dew from a plastic bottle. He was hitting the Dew because he needed an energy boost. He’d been out late partying the night before.

His job at the U.S. Geological Survey, National Climate Change and Wildlife Science Center, was to analyze weather data, specifically on global warming. Sometimes the endless stats all seemed to blur together. Like today. He chugged more Dew while he reviewed the latest printout in the empty computer room.

As he studied it, he groaned, “Oh, no, man. No …”

It seemed clear that he had entered the hundred-year average rather than the one-year average. So he loaded the parameters into his computer once again, this time making sure he was asking for the one-year average. He punched Enter and waited.

Bored, he decided to wander down to the office of his supervisor, Dr. Henry Smithson. When he got there, Smithson and Ernie, his assistant, were glued to the little Internet television set.

When Mike started to ask what they were watching, Smithson put his finger to his lips and pointed to the screen. There was footage of the smoking, charred wreckage that had landed in the Chicago neighborhood.

Smithson said, “This is awful. No facts yet. The NTSB is investigating but isn’t talking. Someone on the ground thought they saw an explosion in the air. Just to make sure, other flights are being cancelled. Know anyone flying today?”

Mike shook his head.

“Me neither.”

Smithson hit the search function on his remote, and on the right-hand column of the screen a series of weblogs and Insta-News articles appeared. All were reporting the same thing. Smithson scrolled down. After fifteen more entries, all nearly identical, one finally looked different. It was from a new web-and-wire service called AmeriNews. The headline read: MISSILE SITED IN CHICAGO, HEADING FOR DOOMED PLANE …

Ernie chirped out, “Hey, lookit that!” and pointed to the headline.

Smithson just grunted back, “AmeriNews? You got to be kidding, Ernie. Bunch of crazies. Members of the flat-earth society.”

He clicked off the Google search and enlarged the TV footage. Mike hung around for a minute, watching the gruesome coverage, then looked at his watch and figured he should get back to work.

In his office Mike checked the screen, hit the Print button, and after a few seconds collected his papers. He sat down with the earth-temperature average index and reached for his Cuban sandwich. He took a big bite and savored the crunchy thinly sliced dill pickle and the spicy meat. It was just the way he liked it. He chewed once. The side of his cheek bulged.

Then he saw it — at the bottom of the last page of the index.

He nearly choked. He coughed and gagged. He was so dumbfounded that he’d forgotten to keep chewing.

This can’t be right. No way.

He scanned every page, following the trail of data, point by point, until he got to the end. It made sense mathematically. It all fit — except for the one-year average. That had to be wrong again. But it wasn’t. It was correct. He checked it. For a moment Mike felt as if he was about to have an out-of-body experience. “I must be going nuts.”

Or was it something else?

If the data was correct, it meant that the newest average worldwide temperatures were climbing to dangerous levels. Catastrophic global warming had finally kicked into overdrive. Due to carbon dioxide emissions from cars and factories? Of course. There could be no other scientific explanation. At least not one that was respectable.

When Mike realized what that meant he snatched the papers and sprinted down the hall like a maniac, his frenzied footsteps echoing off the linoleum floor. He reached Smithson’s office.

Dr. Smithson and Ernie were still watching television when Mike burst in. His frantic entrance made the Ph.D. of climatology and his research assistant whip around in their chairs. Mike raised the papers in the air. His face had the stunned look of a pedestrian who almost got hit by a bus.

“God help us. It’s happening …”