The Bridge | Bots 'R Us

Chapter 4 | Oops

Catty dandy host Arteena leaned towards my friend. "Jonah, darling, your book is fascinating! On page 454, you demonstrate a new variation on tantric sex that completely mesmerized me..." they paused, he fumbled. "Am I boring you? You've come to this show with an uplifting piece of work. A Simple Life is a true contribution to our enlightened society. You should be radiant, but I could swear you're ready to join the ranks of the suicidal maniacs who are spoiling it for the rest of us! What's up, honey, your boy toy has dumped you?"

Nassif, Arteena's Pashtun co-host, gasped. He played the good cop to her bad cop, in their polished routine to extract the most out of their guests. His hologram popped into the room, crouching by Jonah's side, his chin resting on his closed right fist, waiting for my friend's reaction. And they had pushed his buttons, alright!

"Arteena," Jonah replied in the calm, controlled tone he used to maintain his cool, "you are a delightful, smart, and life-loving person. Why would you point the finger at the most sensitive people among us? Yes, I come here with a book where I poured my heart and expressed how much I care for our well-being and growth. We've made tremendous progress on the path of enlightenment, but we shouldn't expect everybody to be all positive all the time. There are still reasons for concern. Sure, this suicide trend is alarming and shocking, but what if it's the signal for something bigger, the survival of our species. Maybe those people you scorn feel more deeply the challenges ahead and are overwhelmed. For the last few weeks, I have returned to my environmental research. I was alarmed by some oceanic reports I had read. I'm a marine biologist first and foremost, as you know. Well, we haven't resolved all the threats of the industrial revolution, yet. The poisons of the past have caught up with us, gnawing at our foundations. While we were captivated by big, existential projects, millions of compounds combined in the wild, unbeknownst to us. We could be on the brink of catastrophe."

"Are you serious?" asked Nassif, half irked, half troubled. "We all need a lift here, and you are bringing us down!" On that note, he took a whiff of a popular herbal euphoriant—a major sponsor of the show, product label in evidence.

"Sure, Nassif," opined Jonah, "there may be solutions. After all, the obstacles seemed insurmountable at the beginning of this century, too, and we overcame them. Or at least we overcame what we had identified as insurmountable. But we are unprepared, today: We need a higher level of consciousness yet. We cannot just rest on GINI's laurels. No wonder the most sensitive among us are overwhelmed. Erecting a wall of righteousness around our past accomplishments doesn't prepare us for the next ecological peril. It's time to get involved again, learn, and fight."

"Well, you heard it here first!" interrupted Arteena. They gave a quick plug for the book and delivered the sponsor's message, so appropriate for our times. "Amalaya, the number one Peyote collective from Mexico's arid Altiplano, is offering this short meditation break. Live from London, I'm Arteena..."

"Live from Tamanrasset, I'm Nassif..."

"And you're watching Arteena and Nassif in the Morning," they said in unison.

That was it for Jonah's big-time on ANM. I checked TweetMetrics; the numbers were going through the roof! Jonah's book was an instant success, with over two hundred million copies downloaded right after his appearance. End-of-the-world sites were seeing their ping rates explode. Jonah had made the news and became another action item for the 10:00 hour meeting.

The White House was only a half-hour ride away from home by hoverbike. Thanks to self-guidance, I only had to pedal gently to make the mag-lev bicycle go. Easy breezy exercising and I could use that time for reflection and occasional chats.

The third Category 3 storm in a month had hit Washington City yesterday. The cleaning and construction bots were hard at work sweeping and patching the highways. But there was a levee breach on the way, and I had to take a detour to Capitol Island. A sultry 30º C spring day was supposed to unfold. Spring was more a notion tied to the months of the calendar than to the facts of life in the second century.