The prehistoric sky is pale blue, and it is cold enough to make frost form almost instantly around the nose and beak of the Pteranodon who has just awakened in a treeless land of ice beyond the reach of the sun. The climate at the North and South Poles is changing, leading to a puzzling consequence that mankind is unable to control or defeat. As the Pteranodon cranes its long neck and surveys the frigid, unending miles of white in search for food, others prepare to escape the ice prison that has held them in a frozen state for sixty-five million years. Now, in the seemingly endless night, they are alive again-the result of global warming. No one is more aware of the escalating environmental catastrophe than Professor Edgar Hauptman. As he wonders whether time is running out, Hauptman writes a controversial essay that reaches the desk of the President, causing immediate chaos as everyone wonders if mankind is doomed. In a desperate attempt to cool the earth, Hauptman leads an ambitious mission to the ocean floor. Success means new life, but failure means death of the world as they know it. Can he save the planet in time?
Future Imaginings
We May Someday Live in Unimaginable TimesBy Howard Paul FeigelmaniUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2011 Howard Paul Feigelman
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4620-4063-6Contents
Part One Prehistoric Sky.........................1Part Two Accidental Survival.....................67
Chapter One
Prehistoric Sky
The sky was a pale blue and the temperature was -20 degrees Fahrenheit (-29 degrees Celsius). It was cold enough to make frost form almost instantly around the nose and beak of Pteranodon, a condition it was not accustomed to. It had awakened in a land of ice, a land that was beyond the sun. A human being would be forced to gasp for air in the cold and would likely keep gasping until he or she passed out, but the cold air had little effect on Pteranodon. Only eight to ten inches of snow fell on this remote region of planet earth each year, but it would never melt. The snow would drift, covering anything that might be peeking out above the already accumulated snow. That was the climatic situation at the North and South Poles for millions of years; however, now it was changing. The poles were warming, and that phenomenon would lead to ...
* * *
Its eyes opened as if for the first time. It surveyed the frigid, unending miles of white. There was no movement; it could not detect any life forms, only long white miles where only the lonely wind prowled. It was hungry, so instinctively it thought of food, but where it could find food at this moment remained a mystery. It craned its long neck in search; its wings felt stiff, and its body rigid. A takeoff at the moment was out of the question. Pteranodon peered out at its surroundings. The night was cold and soundless. Others were also escaping from the ice prison that had held them in a frozen state for sixty-five million years. Now, in the seemingly endless night, one fact could not be argued: they were alive ... again.
This was not a spring ice melt, nor was it a summer thaw; this time, it was much more. It was commonly thought that if a location remained cold enough throughout the years, no melting could occur. That explained why the North and South Poles were covered in ice throughout the year. Zero degrees Celsius was known to be the freezing point of fresh water (or, said another way, the melting point of ice). Sea water froze at -2 degrees Celsius. Pteranodon should have remained frozen in the glacial ice for all time, except for the fact that the poles were warming, causing extreme melting. The fact that this phenomenon was occurring was no secret to the inhabitants of planet earth. The animals knew it instinctively, the humans intellectually.
The wind persisted. For humans, the region was still too cold and dark for habitation for any substantial length of time. This was truly a harsh, forbidding location on planet earth. The wind gained in strength, knocking over Pteranodon. It attempted to gather its legs under its belly in an attempt to regain its footing. Something was moving under the thinning ice. It was a fish. Pteranodon broke through the ice with its sharp beak and caught the fish. It chewed the fish with its sharp teeth and swallowed it in pieces. Now, somewhat nourished, it would move on when the wind died down and the weather had improved. Pteranodon would rendezvous with other Pteranodons later. It realized that somehow it had survived, and instinctively it realized that this second chance meant that it must get stronger in order to overcome the struggle in front of it. Somewhere in this dark cold mysterious world, there was a second awakening, by a cousin of Pteranodon.
The Pterosaur opened its eyes and immediately realized two realities. It was very hungry, and there were no trees.
Trees were an integral part of Pterosaur's habitat. Pterosaur knew that in order to survive, it needed a green forest environment. Like Pteranodon, it had been reborn, given a second chance to live, breed, and migrate. Fortunately, its short, whisker-like hair was acting as an insulator, protecting it from the extreme cold. It looked up at the sun, unfolded its wings, and absorbed what little heat the sun was offering. Slowly, Pterosaur felt its body temperature rising. Able to maintain a high body temperature, it would soon be warm enough to fly, perhaps to a more temperate location. Although it did not really feel the extreme cold, it did not appreciate the wind and blowing snow.
Both Pterosaur and Pteranodon had been sheltered underneath the ice for a very long time. These flying crocodiles had adapted before. Both species recognized their innate drive to exist and live forever through their own survival and the survival of their hatchlings. But first they had to escape this harsh, remote place; although life is never uninvited in any location on planet earth, life seemed to be banished from some regions, or reduced to a limited existence. This was such a place, and both species realized that they must leave, and soon, or their previous fate would be repeated.
Their new life, like their extinction, was abrupt. However, their survival instincts were acute. They had come this far and would continue to make progress toward increasing their numbers. This time they would persevere. This time they were determined to live and dominate all living species on the planet. Although weakened by their ordeal, they were breaking through the melting ice in greater numbers. The North and South Poles had become unstable. Antarctica was dying. The polar bears and seals knew it. The caribou and penguins knew it. Man appeared clueless as to the impact on the planet these climatic changes would eventually bring. But Pteranodon and Pterosaur were alive and growing in numbers. And if humans did not understand that the planet was warming, these newly revived creatures did, and it was their intention to take full advantage of this second opportunity given to them to survive.
* * *
It was inevitable that my family and I would participate in the proliferation of single-family housing popping up to the north of the city. When I grew up, my mom and dad would shop in neighborhood stores. Not the Gap, Old Navy, or the Banana Republic but rather Max's Men's and Boys' Apparel Store. We ate out at Sid's luncheonette, and we bought our meat at the butcher shop, got groceries at the corner grocery store, and filled our prescriptions at the drugstore owned by the Stone family, who lived on the third floor in the five-story apartment building we lived in. Those were good times, but when I became an adult, I changed my shopping habits and began to frequent malls and shopping centers. I forgot about Max's and gravitated toward Macy's and Bloomingdale's. Eventually I succumbed to the "modern times," got married, and started a family.
Families were moving away from urban centers and heading north, south, east, and west of the city. We, like many other families, became suburbanites. I wanted to enjoy the bucolic serenity of the countryside. The idea of raising my children surrounded by a lawn and not pavement appealed to me. There also was that unspoken belief that if you owned your own home in the suburbs, you were a success. Call it elitism, insecurity, or dysfunction, it was the way things were. Suburban sprawl had arrived in the Northeast, and we were determined to become a part of it. The Windsor family were destined to become home owners and realize their dreams.
My wife, Elizabeth, quickly adapted and...
