The Greenest Desert
Carla sat in the train’s premiere lobby, closing interrogating the time hovering in the corner of her smart glasses. The delegation was just now arriving, thirty minutes late.
She was joined by two other scientists, part of the committee who were dispatched based on some intelligence they had received.
Aisha Al-Sadir’s sleek limousine glided through the bustling street at the airport, then stopping in front of the lobby.
“The Honorable Doctor Carla Adamson, it is pleasant to meet you,” said Aisha as she beckoned the diplomat into the car.
Carla frowned right away. The limo was excessively large and appeared to use an old battery technology that used precious resources.
“Prime Minister Aisha, I have been looking forward to this meeting. We have much to discuss.”
“And I have much to show you. Come on driver, let us go towards the city.”
As the limo rolled onto the highway towards the bright, gleaming capital ahead, everyone’s gaze turned towards the holographic displays that hovered above them as they entered the urban center.
“Observe that,” she gestured towards the augmented view.
Shimmering clouds drifted lazily overhead, casting patches of shade on what would otherwise be sun-scorched streets.
“Before Project Stratus, the temperatures here were unbearable. The coal burned by the West made each successive year worse. Now, our citizens can work, play, and thrive without the constant threat of heatstroke.”
Dr. Anya Petrova, the stoic Russian climatologist, peered out the window as they passed by a vibrant marketplace.
“This is truly impressive,” she conceded. “But we were not consulted. What of the long-term consequences? Altering the cloud cover on this scale…”
“Is completely necessary,” Aisha interrupted firmly. “The international community preaches adaptation and lower temperatures, but we in the arid belt have long been pushed beyond the limits of human endurance. That is why I ripped up our agreement as soon as I took office. I was a reform candidate, in more ways than one.”
The limo swerved around a bend, passing out of the city towards the countryside. Everyone could see a swathe of green appearing amidst the sprawling desert.
“These are our reclaimed fields,” Aisha explained. “The increased rainfall thanks to Project Stratus had made this possible. We project in five years to become food independent, and ten years to develop a thriving food export business.”
Dr. Elena Ramirez, the Brazilian environmentalist, gave a deep frown. “But this water… it must be diverted from elsewhere. Where is it being drawn from? Couldn’t you be inadvertently creating a drought downstream?”
“Our water management is meticulous,” Aisha countered. “We draw from deep aquifers thanks to our knowledge of deep drilling. They are replenished from flash floods which we once lost from evaporation. I have hired the best scientists from around the world. And I pay them better than you, else they would not have left.”
The limo approached a large shimmering field of solar panels, a sea of obsidian rising out of the sand.
“We have not abandoned sustainability at all, but doubled-down on it,” Aisha continued. “This, along with our wind farms, power the cloud-seeding infrastructure.”
Carla spoke up, “The science is sound. From what I can tell, Project Stratus is a localized solution that is carefully calibrated to avoid larger disruptions.”
The limo finally reached its final destination: a research institute towering into the sky. As the three members of the committee disembarked, Aisha turned to them.
“It is easy to condemn us from the comfort of nations less affected. But come, let me show you the faces of those who benefit.”
The tour through the institute took hours, with frequent stops for greetings and questions. The labs buzzed with technicians eager to share their learnings and classrooms of children learning of a time before the merciful clouds. Some were becoming farmers, with a renewed optimism of a return to a livable climate.
The sun began to dip as their tour came to an end. The light had grown softer, painting the desert city in a warm glow. The three members stood at the entrance and chatted, feeling both awe and concern.
“It’s not a perfect solution, but I see its necessity,” Anya admitted.
“A stopgap measure certainly, and yet… what can we do but continue buying precious time on this wonderful planet?” Elena was deep in thought.
Prime Minister Aisha smiled. This was not a full victory, but a good start. The world may never approve of her methods, but they would cherish the result. The desert nation, transformed by desperation, would become a leader in science.
Once her plan was complete, they’d all acknowledge she was right: the path forward was not outright condemnation, but a cautious, calculated gamble for survival.
Geoengineering is an idea whose time is coming. There are plenty of people who don’t like it, those who will be the last to be affected by climate change. Summers in countries like India and Saudi Arabia are brutal today, and will get worse. Leaders in those countries will take short-term solutions. You would too in their shoes. Ultimately, I am skeptical that shame and geopolitics will prevent geoengineering from happening, so we should probably figure out how to do it well.