Chapter 2 of The Future We Choose

The following is an excerpt from Christiana Figueres and Tom Rivett-Carnac's book, The Future We Choose (pp. 27-34). Bonnier Publishing Fiction. Kindle Edition.

It is 2050. Beyond the emissions reductions registered in 2015, no further efforts were made to control emissions. We are heading for a world that will be more than 3 degrees Celsius warmer by 2100.

The first thing that hits you is the air. In many places around the world, the air is hot, heavy and, depending on the day, clogged with particulate pollution. Your eyes often water. Your cough never seems to disappear. You think about some countries in Asia, where out of consideration sick people used to wear white masks to protect others from airborne infection. Now you often wear a mask to protect yourself from air pollution.

You can no longer simply walk out your front door and breathe fresh air: there might not be any. Instead, before opening doors or windows in the morning, you check your phone to see what the air quality will be. Everything might look fine – sunny and clear – but you know better.

When storms and heatwaves overlap and cluster, the air pollution and intensified surface ozone levels can make it dangerous to go outside without a specially designed face mask (which only some can afford). Southeast Asia and Central Africa lose more lives to filthy air than do Europe or the United States.

Fewer people work outdoors, and even indoors the air can taste slightly acidic, sometimes making you feel nauseated. The last coal furnaces closed ten years ago, but that hasn’t made much difference in air quality around the world because you are still breathing dangerous exhaust fumes from millions of cars and buses everywhere.

Some countries have experimented with seeding rain clouds – the process of artificially inducing rain – hoping to wash pollution out of the sky, but results are mixed. Seeding clouds to artificially create more rain is difficult and unreliable, and even the wealthiest countries cannot achieve consistent results.

In Europe and Asia, the practice has triggered international incidents because even the most skilled experts can’t control where the rain will fall, never mind that acid rain is deleterious to crops, wreaking havoc on food supply. As a result, crops are increasingly grown under cover, a trend that will only increase.

Our world is getting hotter. Over the next two decades, projections tell us that temperatures in some areas of the globe will rise even higher, an irreversible development now utterly beyond our control.

Oceans, forests, plants, trees and soil had for many years absorbed half the carbon dioxide we spewed out. Now there are few forests left, most of them either logged or consumed by wildfire, and the permafrost is belching greenhouse gases into an already overburdened atmosphere. The increasing heat of the Earth is suffocating us, and in five to ten years, vast swathes of the planet will be increasingly inhospitable to humans.

We don’t know how hospitable the arid regions of Australia, South Africa and the Western United States will be by 2100. No one knows what the future holds for their children and grandchildren: tipping point after tipping point is being reached, casting doubt on the form of future civilisation. Some say that humans will be cast to the winds again, gathering in small tribes, hunkered down and living on whatever patch of land might sustain them.

The passing tipping points have already been painful. First was the vanishing of coral reefs. Some of us still remember diving amid majestic coral reefs, brimming with multicoloured fish of all shapes and sizes. Corals are now almost gone. The Great Barrier Reef in Australia is the largest aquatic cemetery in the world. Efforts have been made to grow artificial corals farther north and south from the equator where the water is a bit cooler, but these efforts have largely failed, and marine life has not returned.

Soon there will be no reefs anywhere – it is only a matter of a few years before the last 10 per cent dies off. The second tipping point was the melting of the ice sheets in the Arctic.

There is no summer Arctic sea ice anymore because warming is worse at the poles – between 6 and 8 degrees higher than other areas. The melting happened silently in that cold place far north of most of the inhabited world, but its effects were soon noticed.

The Great Melting was an accelerant of further global warming. The white ice used to reflect the sun’s heat, but now it’s gone, so the dark sea water absorbs more heat, expanding the mass of water and pushing sea levels even higher.

More moisture in the air and higher sea surface temperatures have caused a surge in extreme hurricanes and tropical storms. Recently, coastal cities in Bangladesh, Mexico, the United States and elsewhere have suffered brutal infrastructure destruction and extreme flooding, killing many thousands and displacing millions. This happens with increasing frequency now.

Every day, because of rising water levels, some part of the world must evacuate to higher ground. Every day the news shows images of mothers with babies strapped to their backs, wading through floodwaters, and homes ripped apart by vicious currents that resemble mountain rivers. News stories tell of people living in houses with water up to their ankles because they have nowhere else to go, their children coughing and wheezing because of the mould growing in their beds, insurance companies declaring bankruptcy leaving survivors without resources to rebuild their lives. Contaminated water supplies, sea salt intrusions, and agricultural run-off are the order of the day.

Because multiple disasters are often happening simultaneously, it can take weeks or even months for basic food and water relief to reach areas pummelled by extreme floods. Diseases such as malaria, dengue, cholera, respiratory illnesses, and malnutrition are rampant.

Now all eyes are on the western Antarctic ice sheet.If it ever did disappear, it would release a deluge of fresh water into the oceans, potentially raising sea levels by over five metres. If that were to happen, cities like Miami, Shanghai and Dhaka would be uninhabitable – ghostly Atlantises dotting the coasts of each continent, their skyscrapers jutting out of the water, their people evacuated or dead.

Those around the world who chose to remain on the coast because it had always been their home have more to deal with than rising water and floods – they must now witness the demise of a way of life based on fishing. As oceans have absorbed carbon dioxide, the water has become more acidic, and the pH levels are now so hostile to marine life that all but a few countries have banned fishing, even in international waters.Many people insist that the few fish that are left should be enjoyed while they last – an argument, hard to fault in many parts of the world, that applies to so much that is vanishing.

As devastating as rising oceans have been, droughts and heatwaves inland have created a special hell. Vast regions have succumbed to severe aridification, sometimes followed by desertification, and wildlife there has become a distant memory. These places can barely support human life; their aquifers have dried up. Cities like Marrakech and Volgograd are on the verge of becoming deserts. Hong Kong, Barcelona, Abu Dhabi and many others have been desalinating seawater for years, desperately trying to keep up with the constant wave of immigration from areas that have gone completely dry.

Extreme heat is on the march. If you live in Paris, you endure summer temperatures that regularly rise to 44 degrees Celsius (111 degrees Fahrenheit). This is no longer the headline-grabbing event it would have been 30 years ago. Everyone stays inside, drinks water and dreams of air conditioning. You lie on your couch, a cold wet towel over your face, and try to rest without dwelling on the poor farmers on the outskirts of town who, despite recurrent droughts and wildfires, are still trying to grow grapes, olives or soy – luxuries for the rich, not for you.

You try not to think about the 2 billion people who live in the hottest parts of the world, where, for upwards of 45 days per year, temperatures skyrocket to 60 degrees Celsius (140 degrees Fahrenheit) – a point at which the human body cannot be outside for longer than about six hours because it loses the ability to cool itself down. Places such as central India are becoming increasingly challenging to inhabit. For a while people tried to carry on, but when you can’t work outside, when you can fall asleep only at 4am for a couple of hours because that’s the coolest part of the day, there’s not much you can do but leave. Mass migrations to less hot rural areas are beset by a host of refugee problems, civil unrest, and bloodshed over diminished water availability.

Inland glaciers around the world are quickly disappearing. The millions who depended on the Himalayan, Alpine and Andean glaciers to regulate water availability throughout the year are in a state of constant emergency: there is little snow turning to ice atop mountains in the winter, so there is no more gradual melting for the spring and summer. Now there are either torrential rains leading to flooding or prolonged droughts. The most vulnerable communities with the least resources have already seen what can ensue when water is scarce: sectarian violence, mass migration and death.

Even in some parts of the United States, there are fiery conflicts over water, battles between the rich who are willing to pay for as much water as they want and everyone else demanding equal access to the life-enabling resource. The taps in nearly all public facilities are locked, and those in restrooms are coin operated. At the federal level, Congress is in an uproar over water redistribution: states with less water demand what they see as their fair share from states that have more. Government leaders have been stymied on the issue for years, and with every passing month the Colorado River and the Rio Grande shrink further. Looming on the horizon are conflicts with Mexico, no longer able to guarantee deliveries of water from the depleted Rio Conchos and Rio Grande. Similar disputes have arisen in Peru, China, Russia and many other countries.

Food production swings wildly from month to month, season to season, depending on where you live. More people are starving than ever before. Climate zones have shifted, so some new areas have become available for agriculture (Alaska, the Arctic), while others have dried up (Mexico, California). Still others are unstable because of the extreme heat, never mind flooding, wildfire, and tornadoes. This makes the food supply in general highly unpredictable. One thing hasn’t changed, though – if you have money, you have access. Global trade has slowed as countries such as China stop exporting and seek to hold on to their own resources. Disasters and wars rage, choking off trade routes. The tyranny of supply and demand is now unforgiving; because of its increasing scarcity, food can now be wildly expensive. Income inequality has always existed, but it has never been this stark or this dangerous.

Entire regions suffer from epidemics of stunting and malnutrition. Reproduction has slowed overall, but most acutely in those countries where food scarcity is dire. Infant mortality has rocketed, and international aid has proven to be politically impossible to defend in light of mass poverty. Countries with enough food are resolute about holding on to it.

In some places, the inability to gain access to such basics as wheat, rice or sorghum has led to economic collapse and civil unrest more quickly than even the most pessimistic experts had previously imagined. Scientists tried to develop varieties of staples that could stand up to drought, temperature fluctuations, and salt, but there was only so much we could do. Now there simply aren’t enough resilient varieties to feed the population. As a result, food riots, coups, and civil wars are throwing the world’s most vulnerable from the frying pan into the fire. As developed countries seek to seal their borders from mass migration, they too feel the consequences. Stock markets are crashing, currencies are wildly fluctuating, and the European Union has disbanded.

As committed as nations are to keeping wealth and resources within their borders, they’re determined to keep people out. Most countries’ armies are now just highly militarised border patrols. Lockdown is the goal, but it hasn’t been a total success. Desperate people will always find a way. Some countries have been better global Good Samaritans than others, but even they have now effectively shut their borders, their wallets and their eyes.

Ever since the equatorial belt started to become difficult to inhabit, an unending stream of migrants has been moving north from Central America, towards Mexico and the United States. Others are moving south toward the tips of Chile and Argentina. The same scenes are playing out across Europe and Asia. Enormous political pressure is being placed on northern and southern countries to either welcome migrants or keep them out. Some countries are letting people in, but only under conditions approaching indentured servitude. It will be years before the stranded migrants are able to find asylum or settle into new refugee cities that have formed along the borders.

Even if you live in areas with more temperate climates such as Canada and Scandinavia, you are still extremely vulnerable. Severe tornadoes, flash floods, wildfires, mudslides and blizzards are often in the back of your mind. Depending on where you live, you have a fully stocked storm cellar, an emergency go-bag in your car or a 6-foot fire moat around your house. People are glued to oncoming weather reports. Only the foolhardy shut their phones off at night. If an emergency hits, you may only have minutes to respond. The alert systems set up by the government are basic and subject to glitches and irregularities depending on access to technology. The rich, who subscribe to private, reliable satellite-based alert systems, sleep better.

The weather is unavoidable, but lately the news about what’s going on at the borders has become too much for most people to endure. Because of the alarming spike in suicides, and under increasing pressure from public health officials, news organisations have decreased the number of stories devoted to genocide, slave trading, and refugee virus outbreaks. You can no longer trust the news. Social media, long the grim source of live feeds and disaster reporting, is brimming with conspiracy theories and doctored videos. Overall, the news has taken a strange, seemingly controlled turn towards distorting reality and spinning a falsely positive narrative.

Those living within stable countries may be physically safe, yes, but the psychological toll is mounting. With each new tipping point passed, they feel hope slipping away. There is no chance of stopping the runaway warming of our planet, and no doubt we are slowly but surely heading towards some kind of collapse. And not just because it’s too hot. Melting permafrost is also releasing ancient microbes that today’s humans have never been exposed to – and as a result have no resistance to. Diseases spread by mosquitoes and ticks are rampant as these species flourish in the changed climate, spreading to previously safe parts of the planet, increasingly overwhelming us. Worse still, the public health crisis of antibiotic resistance has only intensified as the population has grown denser in inhabitable areas and temperatures continue to rise.

The demise of the human species is being discussed more and more. For many, the only uncertainty is how long we’ll last, how many more generations will see the light of day. Suicides are the most obvious manifestation of the prevailing despair, but there are other indications: a sense of bottomless loss, unbearable guilt and fierce resentment at previous generations who didn’t do what was necessary to ward off this unstoppable calamity.

Figueres, Christiana; Rivett-Carnac, Tom. The Future We Choose (pp. 27-34). Bonnier Publishing Fiction. Kindle Edition.