July 2026 Story

This story is the property of Yi Ching and AI was not used to write it.

Pausing Life

Human cryopreservation after death was first offered in the late 1960s in an unproven hope that at some future time, with advances in medical science, it would be possible to revive the corpse and cure its cause of death.  

Advances in cryogenics now enable the preservation and thawing of viable cells and tissues, notably ova and sperm.  Small animals in the size range of worms have also been frozen and revived, apparently none the worse for their experience.  Some feel it is only a matter of time before this can be achieved with larger animals.

—————————————————————

“I’m so very sorry that I have to tell you that the scans show that your cancer has progressed, Eve,” said her doctor, leaning forward in his chair towards his patient.  He waited for his words to register.

Finally she asked, “How bad?”

“It’s stage 4,” he replied.

“What does that mean?”  asked her husband Cyrus.  “Give it to us straight.”

“It’s spread throughout Eve’s abdomen and it’s inoperable.” 

“But I had so few symptoms!” she cried. “Just some fatigue and loss of weight, a slight loss of appetite, some nagging pain. that’s all.”

The doctor nodded sympathetically.  “I know.  It’s known as a silent cancer, often with few symptoms until it’s spread.  I’m truly sorry.”

“How about treatment like chemo?” Eve asked.

“At present, chemotherapy is not curative for stage 4 cancers.  Even experimental treatments have so far only extended life by months.”

“What have been the results?” asked Cyrus.

“Around two years.  But remember, that’s an average.” 

“Two years!”  she turned to Cyrus.  “And Jonah is just entering college.  I won’t even see him graduate.”   Eve sat silently, head bowed.  Finally she dabbed away the tears and asked, “What is chemo like?  Is it painful?”

“In all honesty, it won’t be easy,” said her doctor.  “I can go over the side effects with you now if you wish. or wait till you’ve had a chance to absorb all of this.

—————————————————————————— 

Cyrus Aurum was a pioneering AI billionaire who had been totally devoted to growing his company until, at age 37, he met and, much to his own amazement and that of those who knew him, crashed head over heels in love with Eve, a 25 year old graduate student and intern at his company.  He remained totally committed and enthralled by her after 18 years of marriage.  And now, with their son Jonah ready to enter college, this devastating diagnosis for Eve.

They sat side by side holding moist hands on the leather love seat in Eve’s study after returning home from the medical center where they had been presented the risk-benefit details of possible chemotherapy and even the alternative of doing nothing

“I can’t accept that you’ve got only two years or less to live,”  Cyrus told Eve “Chemo sounds rough and isn’t curative.  There’s got to be a better alternative.  I love you.  I just can’t even think about losing you.”

“I’ll do the chemo if it will let me live a little longer to at least see Jonah part way through college,” said Eve.  “Maybe get a second opinion?  Whatever we decide, we’ve got to let Jonah know.”

“I’ll put the staff on it to search.  Just got to look at anything that might have a chance.  Even the marginal and unorthodox stuff,” said Cyrus.  “You can’t die.  We love each other too much.”

“We told the doctor we’d let him know in two days,” said Eve.  “And Jonah will be home soon.”

————————————————————————

Cyrus sat in his office and reviewed the search results.  The regular medical and scientific literature, the presentations of early research at meetings, the hints in informal email communications between scientists.   There was nothing that suggested a breakthrough or even the hope of one.  He looked through the catalogue of non-traditional treatments from visualization to colonic purges to herbal teas.  Nothing.  But there was a small note about a PLC Foundation—“Pausing Life Cryogenics.”  This was something different.  Cyrus investigated and found that it was based in Saudi Arabia and he made inquiries.  

“Yes, Mr. Aurum,” the voice on the other end of call said with a British accent.  “The Foundation is dedicated to the cryogenic preservation of human life.  If you are interested in pursuing this further, please fill out the questionnaire that we will send you today to evaluate your level of interest and to see if you qualify to receive further information.”

He dutifully filled in the information about Eve’s diagnosis and prognosis and her previous health history.  There was also an extensive section inquiring into their financial situation and asking for a copy of their latest tax return.  And also for three references.  That gave Cyrus pause, but if there was a chance that the Foundation could help Eve, why not.  And then he waited impatiently for a reply. 

Two days later, the reply came.  “Good news Mr. Aurum,” Your wife qualifies for consideration.”

Qualifies?  Consideration?  And references?  thought Cyrus. Is this a medical institution or a very exclusive private club?  Whoever they are and what ever they do, they work quickly.

The voice continued, “Our representative will fly out to meet with you and your wife tomorrow.  Would two PM your time be satisfactory?”

“Very satisfactory,” Cyrus said, surprised and gratified at how quickly things were developing.  “And he will be able to answer all our questions?”

“Yes, she will be able to.  I hope you will find that our services will meet your wife’s needs.”

She turned out to be an impeccably dressed and coifed attractive mid-thirties Arabic woman named Aaliyah with a firm handshake.  They sat down in the living room. She declined coffee but took a cookie.

“First let give you background on the PLC Foundation,” she began.  “As you are aware, cryogenic preservation of persons after death has been done for many years, in the hope that at some future time, when science has developed a cure for the person’s cause of death, that person can be revived and treated successfully.  To date, no one has been revived.”

“Researchers in Saudi Arabia began to look for a better way.  They began by first cryopreserving small animals such as mice, then progressing to larger animals such as dogs and apes and successfully reviving them.  Before preceding further, five men who had been condemned to death for various offenses were given the opportunity to volunteer to be cryopreserved and revived and to be pardoned for their crimes if they survived.  All five did.  Their brain functions were tested before and afterwards and found to be fully intact.  Don’t look so shocked, Mrs. Aurum.  These men would have been beheaded.  Instead they were given a chance to serve science, repay society, and live.”

“Before you go further, I’m amaze that none of this has appeared anywhere in the scientific community,” Cyrus said.  “Why?”

“Our king prefers to not publicize this for the present but to honor the privacy of our clients,” said Aaliyah.  “We usually receive clients through word of mouth by personal referral.  That’s why when your unsolicited inquiry arrived, it caused some confusion and you had to be carefully vetted.  And the scientists and staff are extremely well compensated to keep their secrets.  Any other questions at this time before I continue?”

Cyrus and Eve shook their heads ‘no.’

“Cryopreservation after death even when done quickly runs the risk that the process of organ breakdown and decay has already begun.  PLC takes the approach of cryopreserving the living body to avoid postmortem damage.”

“You mean that if I did this I would be frozen while still alive?” Eve asked.

“In a word, yes.  But let me first describe how this is done”

Aaliyah concluded her presentation by discussing the financial requirements.  “If you decide to proceed with PLC We will come for you by private jet and fly you to Riyadh.  From there you will be taken by helicopter to the secret underground PLC site in the desert where your cryopreservation will take place and where you will be stay until the time of your awakening.  Should you decide not to proceed, you will be asked to sign a non-disclosure document and of course there would be serious consequences if that agreement were broken.”

“No wonder they wanted your financial information,” commented Eve, after Aaliyah left.  “Am I really worth it?”

Cyrus kissed her gently in reply.

Later that evening, Cyrus said, “I’ll go along with what ever you decide.”

“Then I will do it, the cryo,” said Eve.  “It’s an uncertain chance, but the only one I have.  To put my life on hold with the expectation that a cure will be found.”

Cyrus had thought about what he would do if she decided to be frozen.  To face life without her was unthinkable.  He knew he would have been devastated if she had died during chemo.   But now she would still be alive with PLC.  There was no question in his mind.  “I will be frozen with you,” he declared.  “To also put my life on hold until we are both awakened.”

“Cyrus, I know how much you love me to do this.  But you need to stay behind for Jonah’s sake,” said Eve. “It’s unfair that he loses both of us just as he starts life.  He will need you as he goes through college.”

“I don’t want to live without you, Eve.”

“You have to.  Please, for Jonah.  Take care of our son.”

Cyrus knew that she was right, even as his heart ached.  Finally he said, “I’ll stay with Jonah until he graduates from college in four years.  Then I will join you.”  I’ll be fifty-nine then, almost an old man, while you will still be forty-three, he thought.

“You might meet someone else during that time.  If you do, I’ll understand,” Eve said.

“It’s always been you.  Only you, Eve.   And I will come to join you.”

————————————————————————

They had already told Jonah of Eve’s diagnosis and the certainty of her death with the current state of medical treatment.  Now they told him about their decision to proceed with PLC.

“I will have a chance with them, Jonah,” Eve said.  “Maybe slim, but a chance.  And this way, I won’t be dead, just away.  And Dad will be with you while I am gone.”

“How long will that be Mom?” asked Jonah.

“No one knows.  It depends on when a cure for my cancer is found and then they will revive me to be cured and then we will be together again.”

“Dad, and you’ll stay while I’m in college?  And then you will be frozen with Mom?”

“Yes, that’s the plan.  I hope you can understand that it’s not that I don’t love you.  It’s just that I love Mom and want to be with her.”

“No, I understand.  Will I be able to visit both of you?” Jonah asked, thinking I hope I can someday find a woman whom I will love as much as you love Mom and who will love me as Mom loves you.

“As our son, you’ll be allowed to be there when we are first cryopreserved.  And you’ll be notified when we are restored and can be present,” Cyrus said.  “But otherwise no.”

“So I could still be in college or be an old man before that happens.” Jonah said.

“I hope that it will be the former and not the latter,” said Eve.

————————————————————————-

A week later, accompanied by Aaliyah, they were aboard a black, luxuriously appointed private jet to Riyadh.  Then whisked by helicopter out over the desert, touching down on a helipad seemingly in the middle of nowhere.  An entrance appeared in the side of a dune and a van drove out to the helicopter.  Aaliyah led them aboard and the van retuned to the entrance as the helicopter prepared to leave.  An elevator took them down into the site.  After introductions and instructions, Cyrus and Jonah were offered the opportunity to watch Eve undergo the cryo process.  Jonah could not bring himself to watch and declined, but Cyrus did.  Before being wheeled into the operating room, Eve kissed and held her son for a long time, telling him, “I’ll see you again, okay?  Dad will be with you.  Study hard in college.  Remember I love you.”

Speechless, he could only nod yes.

She kissed and held Cyrus, saying “I love you so very much.  Take care of Jonah.  We will waken together.”

Jonah fidgeted in the waiting area, too nervous to watch television programs from around the world or to read or to use the computers or play the games that were available.  He had no appetite, but forced himself to nibble at the food that was brought to him.  After almost a day, Cyrus came for him when the cryo process was complete.

  They donned down parkas, gloves, and insulated boots before entering the sub-zero temperature family viewing area to see Eve before she was placed into her alcove.  She lay on her back in a glass enclosure, nude body as pale, as beautiful, and as frozen-hard as a marble statue, her blood having been drained and replaced with preservative fluid, to be stored separately and reinfused on awakening.  Skin smoothed of all wrinkles, young again, appearing as if she were quietly asleep.   Both men gazed at her in awe, lost in their own thoughts

Bless you, Mom, I love you, Jonah thought, choking up.   I pray they find your cure soon.  

Sleep well Love, you are so beautiful, and I will come to join you in four years, thought Cyrus










February 2025 Story

The Forward Observer

Glossary of substitute words:

Fug:  used by Mailer in “The Naked And The Dead” to get around censorship in 1948.

Bustard:  a large Asian bird

Sheet:  a bed covering

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He had been very lucky so far.  To escape before he was murdered by his captors, in the confusion of the explosions from the swarm of low flying kamikaze attack drones he had called in from his forward observation post just before he was captured.  He had volunteered to be a forward observer after the enemy had learned how to nullify the high flying scout drones that done the job previously.  And he had done such an infuriatingly effective job that, after his capture, the angry officer in command ordered his execution, contrary to the formal rules of combat.  But in this war, rules were often ignored by both sides.

Now the man was huddled in a bomb crater in no-man’s-land, faced with a major problem.  How to get back to friendly lines without getting killed since his FIDS dog tag had been ripped off his neck by his captors.  (FIDS or Friend Identification System is an electronic signal that identifies the bearer to all drones as a friend, not to be targeted.)  His captors were probably planning to use his in an infiltration.  At least it was night, and until the engineers figured out a way to restore vision to the scout drones, attack drones would be directed to their targets by human forward observers like him.  It was autumn so the nights were not freezing cold and yet cold enough so that the corpse he shared the crater with was not sickeningly-foul smelling, just rotten.  Rain water pooled in the bottom of the crater.   Not potable since the corpse lay part way in it.  One of them, not us, he noted with satisfaction.  

The whir of a drone over the background clatter of artillery and distant explosions.  He kept very still as it passed to the left.  Ours or theirs?  Didn’t really matter since without his FIDS he would be a target.  And he would be called a friendly fire statistic if anyone ever knew.  I’d better try to move.  Crater to crater.  Earthy wet dirt smell, whiff of rot, mingled with that of TNT and burn. Stop listen for a whir, try to spot drones against clouds and patchy starry background.  Nothing.  Then move quickly.  Gotta get beyond the sight of the enemy by morning.  He hoped that the squad that captured him had been so decimated in the attack that their replacements would not know of his escape and would not specifically send out a drone to look for him. 

The sky was turning grey to the east.  Sun up soon.  Time to find a deep crater and spend the day hiding.  Think I’m about midway across no-man’s-land.  Attack drones will likely not pay as close attention here than closer to the battle lines.  Luck!  A crater without a body or puddle.  Getting thirsty and hungry.  Just got to suck it up.  And wait.  Don’t even raise my head to look around.  Just gotta hope they don’t send out a squad on foot to probe our defenses.  Whir of a drone quadricopter.  Sheet—damn fly walking across my face and I can’t move!  Flying low towards the enemy line judging by the sound.  Must be one of ours.  Just one, so it must not have a specific target—just out to seek and kill some bustards.  Damn—missed the fly!  Aren’t they supposed to be gone now that it’s cold?  Guess there’s a lot of corpses around for them.  I’m not one—go find a real dead body.  Like the one in here.  But I could become fly bait if my luck runs out.   

At last, sunset then twilight, and night with just a thin, waning moon in a partly cloudy sky.  Dark enough.  Time to move.  He dared to lift his head at last and look around.  Crater to crater again.  And luck—a recently killed body to judge by just the faint odor of decay.  One of theirs.  Check the backpack.  Yes!  Full canteen and an unopened meal ration.  Take a drink.  No time to eat.  Get closer to our lines, then I’ll stop and eat.  

The man froze whenever he heard a drone, worried that if there were nearby explosions he would be unable to hear the soft whir.  He was within a mile of friendly lines by first light.  He found a shell hole.  Now I can eat and have another drink.  And plan.  If I try to get closer by sneaking from hole to hole and get spotted, they’ll take me for an infiltrator and drone or shot me without a hesitation since those bustards took my FIDS.  Or if I wait for one of our patrols to stumble on me, again someone will shoot before I can identify myself.  Fat chance to have one of our patrols just happen to come my way anyway.    I’m stuck.  Sheet.

Night came at last.  A waning crescent moon.  He began to edge forward, praying that he wouldn’t be spotted through night vision glasses.  He was in luck and by dawn he had found a shell hole within a half mile of friendly trenches.  Now what?  A plan, I need a plan.  How can I let them know I’m one of us without my FIDS?  If I move by day, they’ll just shoot first without questioning.  But they’ll be especially trigger happy if I try to move closer by night.  He was tired, hungry, filthy, and out of options.  I’m fugged.  And now the sun was up and head down, he hugged the earth.  It’ll be noon, soon enough.  So close.  What to do?

In the forward trench the two drone controllers, Max and Jakob, had their virtual reality goggles on, as well as monitoring a large screen displaying the sector in front of them.  The drones they oversaw were autonomous killing machines, programmed to attack any moving object without FIDS.  The controllers’ function was to provide oversight and override through their goggles, seeing what the drones’ cameras viewed, so that the drones did not waste their weapons or themselves (if they were the kamikaze type) on a mistaken target or a dummy.  It was noon.

“Look at that crazy bustard crawling out of that hole,“ said Max.  “He’s buck naked and waving his hands in the air.” 

“Civilian?” asked Jakob. “What’s he doing in no-man’s-land?  Look he’s dancing!  Fugger must be nuts!”

“No weapons, no clothes.  Not a suicide bomber.” 

“Drone’s zeroing in on him,” said Max.  “Won’t matter anyway.”

“Wait,” said Jakob, pausing the drone.  “Suppose that fugger is one of ours?  Got  lost out there.”

“No FIDS, can’t be,” said Max.

“Leon’s position was over-run four days ago and we don’t know what happened to him,” said Jakob.

“That crazy bustard.  Did he get lucky?” asked Max.  “I’m going to fly the drone up close so I can see his face.”

“The fugger isn’t running from the drone.  In fact he’s standing there and waving his arms like he wants the drone to get closer,” Jakob said. 

“Damn!  Dirty as hell, but it sure as hell is Leon!” Max exclaimed.  “Holy sheet!”

“Pause the drones and bring him in,” Jakob said.  “I’ll tell the boys in the trenches to hold their fire.  Leon’s coming home.”

May 2024 story and song

The Sand Miner

Lee ended his presentation by saying, “You would be known as the one person who saved the planet.  To go down in history, forever honored.  Think about that, Mr. Crassi.  Rather than continue to pursue your dream of settling another planet, which many experts say would be either near-impossible or would take many lifetimes to achieve, you could, in your lifetime, reverse global warming.”

“You sell a tempting story,” replied Midas Crassi.  “But how certain are you that what you propose would actually work?”

“The year after the eruption of Krakatoa in 1883 was known as the year when summer did not arrive.  The volcanic dust that was injected into the stratosphere and carried by wind currents around the world cooled the planet and created lurid sunsets for two years.  What I’m proposing is a controlled version of that eruption.”

“I’ve heard the suggestions to release various sulfur compounds into the atmosphere to do what you are suggesting.  That would certainly be simpler and cheaper.”

“The objection to that approach is that sulfur compounds are not innocuous.  Think of the problems with acid rain during the last century.  Mr. Crassi, you are one of the few people who has the wealth, the resources, and the national and international prestige to make this a reality.”

“You are appealing to my ego, but I won’t hold that against you.  Still, my engineers and scientists have been very honest with me about my hope of settling Mars, telling me that it would be at best a very long shot, even under the threat of being fired for telling truth to power.  It is hard though to give up on a dream I’ve had since childhood.  But I’ve always been a pragmatist.  Tell me, does your plan have better odds than that?”

“There are no guarantees of course, but yes, I believe so,” replied Lee.

“Other than legal, what could or would be the downsides and risks?”

“There is the possibility of unwittingly altering rainfall patterns that could cause droughts in some parts of the world and floods in others.  It could alter ocean warming or cooling that could contribute to, or diminish, the formation of storm systems.  And there are always the unthought ofs and the unknowns.  That is why I’m proposing a gradual phase in rather than a sudden large atmospheric injection.”

“To go down in history as the man who saved the planet.  That’s a very tempting pitch, Mr. Lee.  Give me full details of your plan.  What are all the risks, what resources are needed, what your estimated costs would be, the time frame, and who else you’ve contacted—Aldron Betts say?”

“You are the first person I thought of, Mr. Crassi.  The details will be on your desk next week,” Lee said.

“And you may call me Midas.  What’s your first name, Lee?”

“Apollo.”

“Apollo.  Interesting.  The sun god who lights and warms the earth that you are hoping to cool.”

Sand from the Sahara Desert, swept up by the winds, blows all the way to South America, up into northern Europe, and even to the Far East.  Such windblown sand can be carried as high as 25,000 feet but is too heavy to linger long in the atmosphere.

Sand mining, legal and illegal, has been a lucrative enterprise for many years, providing material to manufacture concrete.  But it has also contributed to beach, coastline, and river delta erosion.

Lee’s plan was to take sand from the interior Sahara desert and mechanically micronize it into tiny particles that would float in the upper atmosphere for a longer period of time, mimicking what occurred after the volcanic eruption.  And unlike sulfur, micronized sand would not interact unfavorably with rain or surface water and vegetation.  

Five weeks later, Lee was nervously waiting at the office of Crassi Enterprises having been summoned to learn the fate of his proposal..   

“You may go in now, Mr. Lee,” said Loren, Crassi’s administrative assistant.  “Mr. Crassi is off his call and he is expecting you.”

“Apollo,” Crassi said without a preamble as soon as Lee came through the door.  “I’ve gone over your idea with my lawyers and engineers.  And with independent climate scientists.  They think it stands a chance of working.  Our government wants nothing to do with it officially since it does not want to be blamed in case things go wrong.  But they would not stand in my way since I’m doing as a private individual and it will largely be done in Algeria and Libya.  I’ve begun to explore contracts and fees with those countries.  If they come on board, then I don’t think any other country or the UN could stop us.”

“That’s wonderful news, Mr. Crassi.  Frankly I’m stunned.  I had no idea you had already come to a decision and proceeded this far.”

“Once I decide to become involved in something, I don’t like to waste time.  The world continues to warm and I am not getting younger.  If, as you said, climate change can be reversed in my lifetime, then we’d better get moving.  As for Mars, I’ll let Aldron Betts pursue that dream uncontested by me.”

  “You already have much of the heavy equipment that would be needed,” said Lee.  “They would just need to be transported to the mining sites on your ships,” 

“You’ve been doing some research about me on your own too,” Crassi said.  “I like that.  Now you told me that the micronized sand could be delivered into the upper atmosphere by a number of methods.  Planes, rockets, and large balloons that you were leaning towards.  You mean like blimps?” 

“More like a large version of weather balloons which can reach heights of 100,000 feet above sea level.  This would be the cheapest and least polluting way to deliver the sand.”

“Cheapest and least polluting.  That’s good.”

“I’ve had initial conversations with an American company that manufactures very large weather balloons as well as the Chinese company that produced their spy balloons,” Lee said.  “They can both produce balloons large enough to carry 2000 to 6000 pound payloads to altitude and the balloons would be recoverable.  The Chinese company’s balloons are maneuverable to some degree which is an advantage, but the American company assured me they could add that capability without much difficulty.”

“Did you tell them what they would be used for and who you were representing?”

“No, I was careful to not say.”

“Good.  I don’t want this to get out and go viral among the conspiracy nuts on the internet until we have already begun.  Since one of my companies is in construction, mining sand in the Sahara would not seem unusual.  Which balloon source is more reliable and cheaper?”

“The Chinese company has the experience and would be cheaper.  However there is that stigma of their spy balloons that overflew us and other countries.  There likely would be a political and public backlash if we used them.”

“So you recommend American.”

“Yes even if the cost would be slightly higher.  But nothing like the cost of using rockets or planes for the job.”

“I agree.  Work with them regarding order size, delivery schedule and final price and let me know.    I will set up a company for the sand mining and make the payments from that account.”

Six months later, Lee and Crassi stood atop a dune in the Algerian Sahara in the relative cool at sunset, watching the largely automated sand mining operation below, the engine and machinery sounds softened as they were absorbed into the vast, cloudless sky above.  Most of the heavy work, the digging and the grinding, was done at night when the winds were quieter, less prone to whip up the sand and was supervised by local engineers, as stipulated in the contract with the Algerian government..  

“Looks like it’s going pretty much as planned,” said Lee.

“We probably don’t need this number of engineers on the job since the operation is largely automated, but it’s in the contract with the government,” said Crassi.  “Helps provide jobs for their university graduates.  The cost of doing business.”

“Our first launch with six balloons is tomorrow morning,”  Lee said.  “After all the planning and preparation we’re actually about to do it!  If all goes well, they’ll be returning in about two weeks after circling the globe.”

“Notices have been sent to all countries in their path so there shouldn’t be any military action taken against them,” Crassi said.  “Don’t want them to be mistaken for spy balloons or UFOs.”

Below, the delivery pods were being filled with the micronized sand from the grinding unit.  They would be attached to the balloons during the night.  The balloons would fill with helium as dawn neared and, after the sun had warmed the air, the balloons would launch.  

Crassi and Lee descended from the dune to where a small support city had been built.  They checked once more with the weather scientists in their prefab lab about the jet streams in which the balloons would fly, and then with the flight controllers who would supervise and maneuver the flights to follow the most favorable load release paths as mapped out by computer simulation.  And then they tried to sleep.

In the morning, Crassi and Lee joined the crowd of workers and scientists watching the launch, cheering as the first balloon lifted away.  Then one by one, five other huge white balloons rose carrying their sand-filled pods, ascending till they became high, distant white globes drifting to the west.

It didn’t take long for news about the launch to trigger a public reaction  The response of the major news networks was largely neutral, with a wait and see attitude.  The scientists interviewed expressed views from cautiously hopeful to negative.  Posts on the internet fractured in all directions as could have been predicted, from dire and paranoid to praiseful.  And then reports of “UFO” sightings came in.  Later there would be claims of eye irritation attributed to the micronized sand.  A splinter group of Green Movement activists organized boycotts of Crassi Enterprises but these did not go far as the effects of heat were felt and seen worldwide and most people were glad that someone was trying to do something about it since government efforts to decrease carbon emissions were too little and too late.  Among some religious sects this was denounced as subverting God’s plan to punish humanity for all its sins by fire this time rather than flood.  There were threats of violence that Crassi had anticipated and so the desert operation was guarded by units of the Algerian army with constant drone surveillance.  And the desert itself was a huge protective barrier.

Lee became a frequent guest on media to explain and answer questions and address doubts.  He preached patience and cautioned against expecting immediate results.  The worldwide temperature continued to rise during the first year of flights.  And nay sayers were quick to point that out.  At the end of the second year global temperatures leveled off.  The oceans were a huge reservoir of heat and it would take time for them to cool.  Public attitudes became more hopeful.  The news cycle moved on to other things, and people scarcely looked up anymore when one of the balloons passed high overhead.  

It would take many more years of carefully titrating and adjusting balloon releases to reverse sea level rise and see the slow revival of polar ice caps and alpine glaciers as global mean temperatures moderated.

Lee and Crassi were old men when the Nobel committee awarded them the Peace Prize.

“Was it worth it, Midas?” asked Lee in Oslo.  “Is this better than going to Mars?”

“You were the visionary, Apollo, I just had to provide the wherewithal,”  Crassi replied.  “We will go down in history as the ones who reversed global warming.  And yes, that is far better than going to Mars.  Which, by the way, Aldron Betts has still not achieved.”

May song

Memorial Day 2024.  I just received my 70th Anniversary College report.  Of the 1222 entering freshmen, 31% of us are still alive.  For the good friends, more casual acquaintances, and classmates who left too soon or more recently, I’ll republish this from last year.

Where Have All The Flowers Gone

(adapted from Pete Seeger)

Where have all the flowers gone?

Long time passing.

Bright in the morning sun,

Long time ago.

Where have all the flowers gone?

Faded, scattered every one.

When will they ever learn, when will they ever learn?

————-

Where have all the young maids gone?

Long time passing.

Strong and graceful, without fear,

Long time ago.

Where have all the young maids gone?

Grown grey and tired, long in years.

When will they ever learn, when will we ever learn?

————-

Where have all the young men gone?

Long time passing.

Swift and certain of their dreams.

Long time ago.

Some are gone and some remain,

Moving slow with aches and canes.

When will they ever learn, when will we ever learn?

————-

And where have all the children gone?

Long time passing.

Full of wonder, spirits free.

Long time ago.

Where have all the children gone?

They’ve grown to be like you and me.

When will we ever learn, when will we ever learn?

————-

Where have all the flowers gone?

Long time passing.

Bright—in the morning sun,

So long ago.

Where have all the flowers gone?

Faded, scattered every one.

What did we ever learn, what did we ever know?

What did we ever know?