Immortality Read Free Page B

limestone down into the valley toward a pair of hawks that were circling in the distance. The hawks were in no danger. The rock sailed far enough out that it landed silently hundreds of yards down the slope.
    “Forget it,” he mumbled.
    Gracy turned around and stared. Mark said it again, only louder. “Forget it.” The day was shot. They had enough provisions to stay for two nights. If tomorrow was a bust, they would have to hike back into town to re-supply and then out again to a different site. He hated being wrong.
     
    The sun was gone. The base camp was a collection of dome tents scattered across a hillside clearing. The arrangement of tents had been completely random. Several campfires illuminated the surrounding boulders and tents with flickering orange glows.
    Mark wore his reading glasses. He was sitting on a folding stool outside his tent. A Coleman lantern hanging from a pole cast a white hot light onto the ground. Arrayed in front of him were poster sized satellite photographs. The photographs had a slight curl from being stored in a tube. The sensors that had collected these images worked in the infrared region of the spectrum. Plants and trees were a bright red. Ground formations were paler colors of blue.
    The sounds of discussions and the sizzle of grilling burgers were drifting from the other side of the camp. The smell of food was working on Mark but he ignored it. Minutes ago he had stopped examining the COBIC sites and was instead looking at a satellite image of the American Northwest forests or, more accurately he thought, what was left of the northwest forests . The lumber industry had succeeded in harvesting far too much of that ancient place. Trees hundreds of feet tall and older than western civilization were gone. There were single trees that had been growing for thousands of years. He grew crazed seeing this evidence of mankind’s idiocy. Humans were one of the few animals that went merrily along consuming its environment until it no longer supported life, then moved on; locusts were another. Someday there would be no place to move on to. It might take generations, but sooner or later we would run out of something critical, and then what? Look at our oil supply. Fossil fuel would be gone soon, and were we creating a replacement energy source? Not likely. What did we have to show for our concern? Not much except some rich politicians, a bankrupt Middle East policy based on our addiction to oil, and terrorists indirectly funded by our addiction who wanted to annihilate us.
    Gracy walked into the wash of lantern light carrying two burgers and two beers. She put the food down in front of him.
    “Stop pouting and eat something,” she said.
    “Look at this scarred earth,” said Mark. “We’re not going to be happy until the entire country is paved with concrete. Except for the farms of course, and that land will be so heavily polluted with pesticides and nutrient depleted that we’ll all be eating hydroponic Spam or worse.”
    “I knew I shouldn’t let you read before dinner.”
    “Come on, this is serious.” Mark felt his body tensing up. “If it wasn’t for endangered species like the Spotted Owl, logging companies would have clear-cut the last of the Northwest years ago. We have inconsequential endangered species protecting the last of the great forests on legal technicalities. Talk about shaky ground. I just can’t fathom those loggers. If we let ’em do what they want and cut the forest, most of them will be out of work in ten years anyway. They want to trade ten years of income for one of the last strongholds of nature in America. What happens when their ten years are up? They’ll all be on welfare – with us footing the bill – after they pissed on their own backyard and our national treasure. And what about the loss to science and medicine? In the Brazilian rainforests, every twenty seconds they’re rolling the dice on plowing under the cure for cancer. Shit!”
    “Cut the