A short story by Louis Finkleman
The author wrote to me in late January 2020, saying: ''Dear Dan Bloom:
I have written a Sci-Fi story about climate change -- Cli-Fi, in your inspired term -- and would love to contribute it to your website. "
-- Thanks,
Louis Finkelman teaches Literature and Writing at Lawrence Technological University in Southfield, Michigan. He serves as half of the rabbinic team at Congregation Or Chadash in Oak Park, Michigan.
AUTHOR PHOTO AND BIO: https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/author/eliezer-finkelman/
A short story by Louis Finkleman titled ''A JOB INTERVIEW''
TEXT:
The receptionist who showed me into the office was definitely human. Inside, the executive was not.
Seeing it made me think of a spider. Not that it looked like a spider. I won’t try to tell you what it
looked like. Something about its compound eyes, and the angles formed by its slender appendages
reminded me of a spider. It crouched on the desk, leaning forward towards me. Two of its eyes focused
directly on me; the others surveyed the room. It was, of course, much bigger than a spider.
Did I mention that I am afraid of spiders?
Except for the desk, the room had no furniture or decorations. On the desk, left to the executive, stood
a sort of fishtank aerator, bubbling away; to the right, a computer. The voice from the computer,
human but neither male nor female, spoke:
“So good of you to respond to our invitation. We have a most attractive position to offer, if you want it,
after we discussed the details.”
I replied: “Why have you asked me? I did not apply for the position. How did you decide I might be
suitable?”
It spoke again: “We have, you know, some computer skills. We have access to every email you have
ever sent, or received; every document you have written or read; every photograph you have ever
shared, and every photograph that anyone else has shared in which you appear. Not only you. We have
that information about every human.
“That makes too much information for even us to process. Our computer algorithm, though, has
searched through that information and found the person who most fits our needs.
“We know that you have taken part in public relations and advertising campaigns that rank among the
most successful in the history of the humans. Our algorithm tells us that you did not just take part. In
truth, you played a pivotal role in each campaign. Though your employers have left you
underappreciated and undercompensated, you have made their successes.
“We do not intend to undercompensate you; not at all.
“Also, you are about 45 years old, which seems the ideal age for someone to head up this operation.”
It felt good to get such recognition, but I still felt wary: “What, exactly, do you need me to do?”
The computer spoke again: “We are not of your species. We know much about your species, but some
crucial information eludes us. We lack a necessary skill.”
“Which skill?” I asked.
“We cannot persuade. I can tell you what will happen, and how we want you humans to cooperate with
the future, but if I tell you, I may inspire you to oppose the inevitable future instead of helping it along.”
“What do you think will happen?” I asked.
“It will happen. This is not a matter of what I think. This beautiful planet, your planet Earth, comes as
close to matching our needs as any planet in this part of the galaxy. When we leave our own planet, as
we must, we will come to this planet and settle here.
“We will need to modify the planet to some small degree for this to work. We can efficiently make those
modifications, though it will take some fifty years. The changes may prove uncomfortable for humans,
and we would rather make the changes without having to resort to repugnant acts of violence. We, and
the remaining humans, can make the changes peacefully, with the right forms of persuasion.
But, as I have mentioned, we are not persuasive. So we need you.”
What changes do you want to try to make? I started my reply, but it was already answering:
“Not a question of trying: We will make these changes. You have perhaps not noticed the temperature
in this room, how horribly cold I keep it?”
In fact, I felt uncomfortably warm.
“I was chosen for this mission because I am unusually tolerant of cold temperatures, among other
qualifications. We need a warmer planet than your Earth. In about fifty years, your Earth will have
become exactly as warm as we need it. It will have reached a comfortable temperature.
“Your Earth has salty oceans, just like our home planet. Unfortunately, those oceans are not acid. As
simple as it sounds, we need a supply of acid saltwater. I keep this bubbler in my office, generating
carbon dioxide, which bubbles through a saltwater reservoir. It gives me a healthful supply of that
necessity. Incidentally, it makes the atmosphere in this room pleasantly high in CO2.”
“What will happen to humans as you make these changes?”
“Some humans may survive. Just as I can tolerate unusual cold, for my species, some of your species
may tolerate unusual heat, for yours.
“We may also, in the interests of science and even compassion, keep a small colony on an air
conditioned island somewhere on our Earth.
“You have no children, and you are, according to our knowledge, 44 years old. By the time the planet
becomes inhospitable, this change will be unlikely to affect you, if you know what I mean. And you have
no children to be affected. I advise you not to engender any, whether you accept our job or not.”
“Millions of people will die!”
“Inevitably; I admit that sad truth. Our scientists are currently studying whether we can eat humans, so
as not simply to let them go to waste.”
“It seems that you have this entirely under control without me.”
“Not quite. When humans learn of our plans, we expect them to revolt against us, and sabotage our
works. We have the weaponry to overcome the expected rebellion, but doing so will be far more costly
to our happiness than making our changes with the consent of the native population. The remaining
humans will also have happier lives if they enjoy what they have, and do not resort to violence. We need
you to persuade people to accept this fate, only that.
“A public relations campaign, with appropriate advertising, supported by social media, could convince
people not to oppose the plan, which, you understand, will reach its fruition more smoothly without
opposition.”
“I will not take part in this horrifying campaign against humanity.”
“I do not understand your objection. What happens in 50 years should be no concern of yours. You
are unlikely to survive long enough to suffer any harm from these developments. For this reason, we
did not consider hiring a younger consultant. Meanwhile, you can enjoy every luxury known to man,
and some beyond human imagination – which we can devise for you. Lack of money will never limit
you.”
“No. I refuse to betray my species and my planet. I won’t do it.”
“Your planet? Life will continue to thrive on this planet. True, some species will go extinct, your own
possibly among them. The other species will survive, and evolve to repopulate the Earth. Eventually, the
Earth will sustain as many species as it now has, including us. The Earth will do fine.”
“Just no. Thanks for your generous offer, but no.”
“I do not understand you. We will ask you to do for us only what you have succeeded in doing for
human executives in past years. You used social media to convince people that there was a controversy
about climate change, that maybe it was not happening. You used research grants and donations to
universities to get scientists to proclaim that their research supports your clients’ views about climate,
and to suppress other research. You got politicians to subsidize burning fossil fuels, and to suppress
other sources of energy. Those were humans, but they paid you to do exactly what we want you to do.
You did all this for money, and I just asked you to do the same thing for us, for even more money. So
why do you refuse?”
No comments:
Post a Comment