HALINE Read online

  HALINE

  SUNDEEP AHUJA

  Forward Press

  San Francisco • New York • Los Angeles

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, events, objects and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  HALINE

  Copyright © 2014 by Sundeep Ahuja

  All rights reserved

  Published by Forward Press, 2014

  For those who understand the tenuous balance

  we have with our Mother Earth and make choices that protect it.

  acknowledgements

  Mom and Dad, thank you for unconditional, unwavering support and all the love in the world. Jasmeet, thank you for always believing in your brother.

  Thanks also to the following family and friends for relenting to my pleas for editing help: Mom and Dad, Jasmeet Ahuja, Brad Feldman, Parag Ladhawala, Tyler Willis, Ryan Troy, Satyender Mahajan, Shawn Bercuson, Kabir Sehgal, Raj Irukulla, Jeffrey Applebaum, Lauren Weinstein, Jaspaul Gogia, John Hering, Slava Rubin, Dev Dugal & Rajal Pitroda.

  And to you, the reader: thank you for joining me in understanding the challenge ahead.

  “It’s too late. We’re past the tipping point. Once the thermo-haline flow shuts down, we can expect about twenty to thirty years of worst-case-scenario hell on Earth. God help us find our humanity on the other side.”

  - Spoken under condition of anonymity, twenty-nine years before Haline

  “I remember a time, I remember it well,

  before the haze of blistering days,

  before the nightly cold spells.

  I’d spend my time by the ocean’s beaches

  contemplating the shores she reaches,

  wondering what they might teach us,

  about the flow that touches each of us.”

  - From “The Lost Flow” published fourteen years before Haline

  “We hereby establish this new republic and decree her to be called Haline – lest we forget our exploitive past, ensuring we remember to protect our future.”

  - President Gaven Jemmer’s first term acceptance speech,

  first year of Haline

  prologue

  _________

  24 YEARS BEFORE HALINE

  “We estimate about three dozen of them, sir!” Major Trey Benlin had to yell for his voice to be heard above the thumping rain and screaming wind. The smatter of gunfire up the ridge didn’t help, nor did the thunder that rolled every five minutes. The storm was furious about something.

  “Okay. Jemmer! Your team is to take out the militia. Don’t pursue. Just get as many as you can then have your drone squad push the rest past the perimeter defense line and let our team out there do the rest. Split into two groups, one on the –”

  Lightning flashed and Colonel Rylan Hawk paused for the expected rumble, his gray and black and wet beard glistening in the dim light. He continued loudly: “– on the rim of the dam, the other up this path here.”

  With his index finger, Rylan followed an incline on the holographic terrain map. Even under the tent nothing was dry and the map phased and distorted as sideways moving droplets from outside blew in. He looked up at Major Gaven Jemmer who stood tall suited in standard-issue military rain gear, hood pushed back, water running from his drenched hair down his wet face. “Understood?”

  “Yes, sir!” Gaven nodded sharply.

  “Benlin, even without these bastards trying to blow the dam we have orders to reinforce the thing. There’s an engineering team waiting at the bottom of the hill, here.” He pointed again to the map. “Besides the dam, we have to make sure the desalination and nuclear decontamination equipment hasn’t been sabotaged at the off chance their true objective was reservoir poisoning. Your team is to escort the engineers and do whatever it is they need you to do.”

  “Yes, sir. Understood.” A streak of dripping mud ran along the left side of Trey’s face. He didn’t seem to notice.

  Rylan took his fist off the table where he had been leaning over the map and stood up straight to face his top two direct reports. He’d hand-selected them from dozens for the assignment knowing he could count on them, unlike the many others who were either too preoccupied with suffering born by families back home, or worse – potentially traitorous.

  “Gentlemen, these marauders think that with a few charges and some luck they can flood Center City and then come down and take what they want. Well, we’re not going to let that happen.”

  He cracked the hint of a smile. “Alright. Go get ‘em!”

  **********

  “Soel.” Alyel whispered. In the background she heard the evening report broadcasting in the living room as the door to her flat slid shut behind her. Leaning back she closed her eyes, relaxed her shoulders, and indulged in a deep inhale.

  It was not the long days of treating poisonous spider bites, acute malaria, advanced typhoid, sun burns, and frail bodies of the famished that she found most stressful. “Violence that nature inflicts upon us after a millennia of us inflicting violence upon nature,” she had once said to a nurse as she surveyed an overflowing waiting room at Central Hospital filled with heavy faces.

  Rather, her stress was rooted in the twelve minute walk between the Emergency Room at Central and the apartment she shared with her husband, Soel, several blocks away. Though regularly patrolled by City Police, sometimes they themselves were the danger. Other times, especially as fall turned into winter, it seemed every alley she passed sheltered the hopeless and desperate – and hungry. If you were lucky they just wanted your keycard. Slightly less lucky, they would slit your wrists looking for hidden cardsafes. But in the cold, hunger trumped all other desires. If you were not lucky, you were all they wanted.

  So everyday after work Alyel walked home with the shaky confidence that only the gun in her left jacket pocket could provide. Soel desperately wanted to escort her safely home each evening, but her independent nature furiously protested. Each afternoon he walked alone, then, made dinner for them both, and sat in front of the living room screen, watching and waiting. He too worked at Central Hospital but at the opposite end of the two-block fortress of a building in the secretive GOD Department – Genetic Officer Development. He had better hours and far better pay, but she got to keep her soul; it was a deal they struck when they were coming out of medical school together. Alyel again inhaled deeply then walked into the living room.

  “Hey baby…come here, come look at this.” Soel stared intently at the screen, eyes moist, lips quivering. “Look what they are doing now.”

  His face swiveled in her direction and he stretched out a hand. “Sit with me.”

  Alyel fought the sudden desire to grab the lamp from the table next to Soel and throw it headlong at the screen. She ached to go back in time, before the wars. Instead, with the manic self-control she had honed over the past several years, she gently took her husband’s hand and sat, kissed him on the cheek, then turned her head to see what his eyes saw.

  A drenched field reporter stood outside a Survival Center in front of a line of raincoats and umbrellas that seemed to stretch for miles, his dronecam shuddering slightly in the strong wind as it broadcast:

  …water levels have reached critical, stressing the levee structures and prompting the President to preemptively declare a Federal Disaster Area. Martial Law with an 8pm curfew for surrounding areas has also been imposed. While locals remain hopeful the actions will at least guarantee them desperately needed food and water rations, most expect little in the way of shelter.

  Moments ago, the Governor gave a press conference seeking to quell fears in the region that Congress would turn its back on the mountain state and let it fall into the hands of militia as happened to two coastal states last year after similar flooding in the west.

  The image moved from the tired reporter to the tired Governor, a glaze in his eyes betraying the lack of sleep that his commanding voice sought to hide.

  I want you to know that engineers are already working to reinforce the levees and as of now we don’t believe an evacuation will be necessary.

  His carefully chosen words were read in measured cadence off the screen to the left of the camera, his eyes dashing from the audience to his script and back.

  To address the food situation, while it is true that the rains and floods have spoiled a portion of our reserves, we have been preparing for this contingency for some time and there are no expected shortages.

  Stressing the word ‘no,’ the Governor paused to look out at his audience, seemingly expecting applause or nods of support. He got nothing.

  Finally, our walls, fences, and defenses to the north and south are holding, and President Renton has assured me of additional troops if needed. What’s most important is that residents know that we will not fail them and that we have the full support of the President.

  The Governor leaned forward, put his hands on both sides of the podium for support, and looked directly into the camera: “We will not fail you.”

  He paused again, an expression of defeat peeking through his makeup. “Let us bow our heads in prayer….”

  The news turned to images of people in an affected area where floods had already wreaked havoc: a family of four, a girl on her mother’s shoulders, a boy on his father’s, fording a river-street; a couple standing in each other’s arms alone on a rooftop island as water moved debris and bodies around them; masked looters breaking into a third-floor jewelry shop, piling their plunder into a waiting speedbo
at; a golden retriever delicately balancing on top of what was once a streetlamp as it was slowly enveloped. The voice of the reporter was drowned out by a disbelief that engulfed Alyel. Her brain processed the tragedy and failure, her heart the pain and fear.

  Soel motioned the screen off and Alyel found her left hand covering a gaping mouth and her right hand tightly gripping Soel’s arm, whose right hand was lightly placed on her softly protruding belly bump. They sat there in silence, holding on.

  **********

  “With all due respect, those days are over and there is no going back. When we killed the ocean we killed most of our markets with it. Sir, you heard the pundits as to what happens next. It’s only going to get worse.”

  Venka paused for a response, and to catch her breath. She was taking a risk being so young and making a prediction so bold, but risks like this were exactly what had earned her the CEO’s ear.

  She took his silence as her cue to continue: “In order to survive we’ll have to consolidate and collaborate. There’s no other way. Either we have peaked and from here falter and fail, disappearing into oblivion, or we look at this as an opportunity.”

  She leaned in. “Sir, we own the resources. We have the capital. All we need is a vision.”

  part one

  1

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present you SAI: Sentient Artificial Intelligence. The culmination of years of work that began before the wars and continued amid the fighting, she is supreme in her abilities, vast in her knowledge, and – most of all – committed to the safety and prosperity of Haline. Consider her your new best friend who will be by your side, everywhere and always.”

  - President Gaven Jemmer, SAI unveiling event, second year in office

  _________

  YEAR 6 OF HALINE, FOUR DAYS UNTIL ELECTION

  EARLY EVENING, GAMMA RING

  On his way home from the office Joaquin stopped by the FreshMart store to pick up the groceries Lyla had ordered. Lyla, who seemed as certain about him as she was about the color of the sky. How could she be so sure? But he appreciated her companionship. And her smile. And, of course, her patience. He wasn’t sure what love was, but he wondered if it was what he felt when he held her.

  Walking into the store, his relatively tall frame drew the attention of a middle-aged woman as she searched through the poor selection of rotting orsoy vegfruits. A genetic cross between oranges and soy beans, orsoys had been engineered for a combination of calories, nutrition, and durability, with a shelf life of six months. These had been sitting in Alpha longer. She squinted her eyes as if to focus them, decided he was no one special, and went back to her search.

  The screens in each corner of the store broadcast the latest Election news. The young female reporter was reminding everyone of the increased fines for boycotters – Cotters, they were called – this Election, with the subtlest tone of condescension. A small part of her audience was like her: living in the Alpha or Beta Rings, privileged, civilized, loyal. But the masses she spoke to in the outer Rings were not like her and needed to be reminded.

  Joaquin made his way through a disheveled aisle of packaged food rations to the produce pick-up area in the back, passing the three-days-new security guard who once again – as he had the two days prior – eyed him suspiciously. The guard’s hands sat on his waist, his right fingers inches from his private security-class s-gun as if hoping Joaquin would try something. Seemingly on cue, the reporter switched to a story about rising produce theft in the Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon Rings. Joaquin walked up to the counter, offering a half smile to Tommas.

  “No one’s stealing your lousy produce, are they Tomm?” he said, waving the inside of his right wrist over the counter-embedded scanner, getting a monotone “Joaquin Deva, order 42719, payment accepted,” in reply.

  “With ugly customers like you to scare them away?” Tommas replied, wryly. “Nah, it’s pretty quiet ‘round here. Couple miles up the road though….” His grizzly voice and thick beard matched his dark expression, and he finished his sentence with a slight shake of his head. Then his deep-set eyes caught something new. “What’s that on your wrist there?”

  He’d forgotten he was wearing it. Unfastening the strap, Joaquin placed the device on the counter as carefully as if he were putting down an heirloom zucchini. “It’s called a ‘watch.’ It tells time and folks used to wear these things around the outside of their wrists. Fascinating, right?”

  Joaquin looked up for a reply, and getting nothing he turned his right wrist over. Glowing lightly were the digits: “18:02:51.” The last two digits ticked forward: “:52.” “:53.”

  Tommas’ eyes looked curiously at the black, oddly shaped device and replied detachedly, sadly, as if his mind were somewhere painful. “Yeah, fascinating….”

  He disappeared behind the steel-reinforced wall between the front part of the store and the Produce Safety & Storage area in the back to fetch Joaquin’s order. At the doorway stood another security guard, hands on belt and attention on the broadcast.

  Joaquin turned around and leaned his elbows onto the counter. Glancing upwards toward the screen he caught the unflinching eyes of a young, slight girl in pigtails and pink overalls, holding her mother’s hand aimlessly. There was really nothing out of the ordinary about Joaquin’s outward appearance that merited the locked stare: dark khaki trousers with the sheen of a fresh sun-proof wash, a sky blue collared shirt with the same sheen, deep brown canvas loafers – all pretty standard Haline Gamma-class government employee attire. He wondered if it was the watch, but assumed it was the usual: at 6’3” he was taller than most in the Gamma Ring and occasionally (or was it often?) attracted curious eyes, especially those of curious children.

  Hearing a rustling behind him Joaquin turned back around. After another half smile and nod to Tommas as he took his purchase, Joaquin walked outside with the groceries in a light mesh bag slung across his chest and over his left shoulder, a one gallon flexsteel canister of purified drinking water held firmly in his right palm.

  The warm November evening with its setting sun and rising moon carried a crispness that touched his skin with a calming energy. He stopped and inhaled. Closed his eyes. Held the moment in his lungs. Exhaled. At this altitude he could never seem to get enough of it; never quite fill his lungs entirely. Rarely did a deep breath seem deep enough to give him that feeling of satisfaction he remembered from his youth, but he often tried.

  Joaquin opened his eyes and glanced at the brightly lit T-Bus stop across the street: four minutes, fourteen seconds until the next one. If he waited he’d be home in only eleven minutes and avoid the mosquitoes that roamed each dusk in search of feast. But with another deep, not-quite-fulfilling breath, Joaquin turned on his heel and started the twenty-three minute walk home. Glancing under his wrist he had another 1,242 steps to walk before he hit the Haline mandated six thousand steps a day, and he remembered Lyla despised after dinner strolls; she didn’t feel safe in his Gamma neighborhood, despite the roving scout patrols. Or perhaps because of them? Besides, the mosquitoes usually spared him and he could use the time to ponder the old uses of his new toy.

  _________

  EARLY EVENING, BETA RING

  Lieutenant Aaren Jemmer arrived back at Police headquarters and the exhausted yet joyful smile of a productive day gave way to a blank expression that reflected the loneliness that awaited him at home. He unsnapped his hard-body chest gear as he made his way to the changing room, exchanging hellos and salutes with fellow Officers and staff he passed in the hall. On the screen he noticed the ongoing coverage of the upcoming Election.

  The President is confident that the people will reward his success in maintaining stable food supplies and doubling personal security initiatives with another term. Though there were expectations that the Cotters would wage an unprecedented propaganda war this Election, the improving conditions in the Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon Rings have eroded much of their support. Decreased attacks from Latmero and warm relations with our Suppliers have further bolstered his position. When elected, it will be the third consecutive term for President Jemmer.

  The smile returned to Aaren’s face as it often did when he heard his last name preceded by the word “President.” Jemmer, a safe family name during the wars that regained popularity with the rise of now President Gaven Jemmer. He eased his chest gear over his head and slipped on a light jacket, wondering what a third term for President Jemmer would mean for Lieutenant Jemmer. An easier life, probably, given the ever increasing authority and control the President seemed to command, resulting in greater public safety and dwindling Resistance and Cotter movements. Fine by him. The Resistance had already all but disappeared and the Cotters didn’t seem to pose much of a threat anymore.