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over the sunstorm and escape into a better future. The hibernacula
were becoming ever more popular despite medical advice that the
freezing process probably wouldn t work successfully and no-
body could guarantee an uninterrupted power supply through the
sunstorm anyhow, so that the big day might result in an unfortu-
nate defrosting. Besides, even if the system worked technically,
where was the morality in escaping the present and leaving others
to clean up the mess, then  returning when the worst was over to
reap the rewards? The  cryonauts would surely not be welcomed,
even in the most optimistic scenarios. And Siobhan had projected
gloomily that if things went pear-shaped if civilization fell apart
S U N S T O R M " 1 8 9
despite the shield s protection the hibernacula would most likely
serve the starving survivors as cellars of thawing meat . . .
Such craziness captured media attention, but was fortunately
still rare. And while these last days saw much foolishness and ve-
nality, there was some dignity too. More people were trying to save
what they cherished than to smash things up in a final frenzy; proj-
ects such as the London Dome were flooded with volunteer work-
ers. Many people were turning, predictably, to religion for solace,
but few became fanatics of the kind who had killed Miriam Grec.
Most prayed to their gods with quiet gravity, in the austere beauty
of cathedrals, mosques, and temples, or simply in the privacy of
their own hearts.
Meanwhile the romantic poignancy of the end was evoking a
flourishing of the arts, with literature, paintings, sculpture, and
music of heartbreaking intensity being produced all over the world.
It was a time for elegies.
But many people, it seemed, faced the grimness of the future
with a more private sadness. Populations worldwide were actually
declining. There was a spate of suicides, but rather sadder was the
news that birthrates were plummeting. This was not the time to
bring a child into the world: indeed some religious leaders were ar-
guing it might actually be sinful to procreate now, for a child who
did not exist could not suffer.
But those falling population numbers would make barely a
dent before sunstorm day. Everything depended on the shield, as it
always had.
In September 2041, with only seven months left, the shield
was as hair-raisingly behind schedule as ever, and yet it still pro-
gressed. Siobhan s political masters in the Eurasian administra-
tion wanted endless facts, figures, Gantt charts to show progress
achieved, critical-path diagrams to show bottlenecks and obstacles
up ahead and a few sexy photos of the staggering, Earth-sized
structure growing in orbit.
But nothing she said made any real difference, for there was
nothing the pols could do differently, not now. Miriam Grec had
got it right from the beginning. Her early intervention had given
1 9 0 " C L A R K E & B A X T E R
the project the worldwide political momentum it needed to begin.
After Miriam herself had reaped the whirlwind, her successor, her
deputy hastily installed into the top job, had been soundly beaten in
the October 2040 poll by opponents who had run on a vaguely anti-
shield ticket. But, just as Miriam had foreseen, once in office it was
politically impossible for any Prime Minister to be the one who
scrapped the shield. The logic had worked out just the same in the
United States as in Eurasia.
The new Prime Minister had not taken a shine to Siobhan,
though. Siobhan was clearly still a key link in the communications
and decision-making chain that led from the ground to orbit. But
she was no longer among the favored inner few. That suited
Siobhan fine. This was a time for getting on with the job, not for
political arse kissing. And besides, the less she saw of the pols, the
less chance there was of putting her foot in it.
Beyond St. Albans, she worked her way through more roadblocks.
At last, after some tricky inner-city driving, Siobhan reached the
final barrier. This was the Camden Gate, one of ten great entrances
set around the circumference of the Dome itself.
As she queued she peered ahead curiously; she hadn t come into
the Dome from this direction before. The Gate, bright orange and
peppered with searchlights and armed observation posts, rose like a
Roman ruin above the mundanity of houses and shopping parades.
And the smooth skin of the London Dome itself arced away into
the washed-out blue of the sky beyond.
The Dome was still incomplete, of course; the final enclosing [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]