Saved By the Bell
Three kids were playing out in the snow, throwing snowballs at one another. One of them hid behind the snowman they had all made together earlier. He laughed and caught his breath as the mighty frozen guardian protected him from a pummel of snowballs.
The Scientist wished she could be out there with them, not stuck in this stuffy convention center. She gathered up her courage, took a sip of white wine and walked back towards the crowd, reminding herself that this was all for science. At least she had some time to kill before her presentation.
She walked around the showroom, half-impressed, half-overwhelmed by the endless displays of green technology and environmental project proposals. It was certainly more intense than the kind of symposiums she was used to attending. The way everyone spoke and pitched their ideas, she felt more like she was in a salesroom than a science conference.
But it was about time she got used to this sort of thing, after all it had been this way for the past couple of years. As climate change got worse, the issue became mainstream in a way that no one could have expected. Well that wasn’t exactly true, plenty of people expected it, it was just the scale and speed of the change that was unbelievable.
Big corporations adopted the issue in a huge way. Suddenly, every company was trying to “save the world”. ESG goals mattered again and buzzwords like “climate responsibility” and “greenability” flooded the corporate lingo. Tech companies started shifting most of their research funds into developing green technology. The greatest minds in the world raced to find ways to reduce emissions, sequester greenhouse gases, and provide clean water and energy. Companies like Rheya funded conventions like this one, trying to find the next big project that could turn the tide in the fight against climate change.
The change happened at an individual level too. Even the most jaded minds were not impervious to the hysteria of heroism that spread through the world in the form of movies, social media trends, tv shows, and memes. Many became convinced that society was entering another “Heroic Age. Hashtags like “#heromaxxing”, “#savetheworld”, and “#ageofclimateheroes” spread like wildfire.
The Scientist was mostly appreciative of these changes, after all it meant that more people were getting interested in environmental sciences and wanting to make a difference. How could that be a bad thing? Not to mention the increase in funding opportunities.
But one thing she did notice was that while there were a lot of enthusiastic, ambitious ideas being spawned, they didn’t always have much depth or prudence. Take for example a conversation she had with an environmental consultant earlier that day.
He was an older gentleman with a soft countenance. Standing in front of his digital presentation board, he gave The Scientist a warm smile as she passed. She walked over to him — he reminded her of one of her favourite profs from university.
“We’re going to lobby the government to pass a new bill that will give a huge tax break to electric vehicle owners. Survey research suggests that in less than a decade electric vehicle usage will jump north of sixty per cent!” he said.
The Scientist raised her eyebrows, “Well that would certainly be a lot of emissions saved. But would the producers be able to keep up with the demand?”
“Of course! Our partners at Rheya assured us that they were up for the challenge.”
“Yes… but what about neodymium and dysprosium? Wouldn’t the supply of rare earth metals be a bottleneck?”
She expected the man to frown and push back. Instead, his expressions softened and his voice came out meek, “Ah well… you know, new reserves are always being discovered. America is catching up to China when it comes to processing capabilities. We can make it work.”
The Scientist thought about retorting, reminding the man of the huge environmental impact of mining and processing rare earth metals. How producing one ton of rare earth metals resulted in over a ton of radioactive waste.
But something about his expression told her that he already knew all these things. His eyes showed the tired solemnity of a man resigned to his duties. This was not the idea he wanted to showcase today, someone higher in the chain had pushed him.
She offered him a warm smile and said, “It’s an exciting idea! I’ll be rooting for you guys.”
Another thing she noticed is that a lot of ideas lacked a thorough risk-benefit analysis. This was especially apparent in any projects involving AI. But a lot of the time, it simply came from lack of age and experience.
Earlier that day she passed by a young man on the convention floor. His presentation was kind of shabby: A collection of notes and graphs on a paper mache board that stood out like a sore thumb against the sea of cutting-edge digital presentation boards and holographic displays. He looked nervous, and she could tell he wasn’t used to being in crowded rooms.
“Hiya! What are you working on here?” she asked him.
The shy guy’s shoulders lurched up, surprised that someone was speaking to him. After taking a few seconds to gain his composure he stammered a response, “Thank you for your interest! I’m here to showcase my app: MyGreenPal. It’s a hyper-intelligent chat bot that will get everyone excited about caring for the environment.”
“Oh cool! Education is always the first step,” replied The Scientist.
“I’m very glad you think so. Of course, there are a lot of eco chat bots out there but what really sets MGP apart is how proactive it is. It regularly scans the world news for latest happenings that will impact the environment and suggests actions we can take, like petitions to sign, which can help mitigate damages from those events. It focuses on solutions.”
“I see… and what language is it running on?”
“Indra 9.2,” the reply was short and quiet.
“Oof! That’s a very expensive model.”
“I know… token usage is on the high side, but advanced reasoning is crucial to maximize the chatbot’s ability to recognize cause and effect. And to make it sound as real as possible. Like an actual friend who wants you to go help the planet because he legitimately cares.”
The Scientist smiled supportively, recognizing that he has toiled over this decision a lot. Just then the phone on the display table beeped and a notification for MPG appeared on the screen.
“Perfect, you get to see the app in action. That’s the hourly news update.”
The idea of having to read the news every hour made The Scientist's head spin. Still, she looked at the phone as he handed it to her. She read the update out loud:
🪚🌳🪓 Deforestation Update:Synaptic has just signed a new forest-decommissioning agreement with the Canadian government. The company will clear over 150,000 acres of forested land in northern Alberta to build 122 new data centers. A spokesperson for the company explained that while the decision to decommission forests is always tough, these data centers are necessary to power their latest machine-learning models which are vital tools in the fight against climate change. In return — the company has pledged to plant 15 million new trees in the next decade.
🐿️🦫😢 Ecological Concerns: Environmentalists have raised concerns that such a large-scale deforestation will have far-reaching consequences. The displacement of large numbers of animal species is sure to have an impact on forests throughout the province and beyond. What do you think? If you’re interested in helping out I can draft up a letter to the environmental committee Synaptic, holding them accountable and demanding more transparency about the agreement.
The Scientist frowned, “Synaptic as in…”
“The developers of Indra 9.2… Maybe I should consider changing the model,” said the young man.
The Scientist gave an encouraging smile to the crestfallen programmer. She probably would have made the same kinds of mistakes as him at his age.
“Yeah, you should definitely think about choosing a lighter LLM. That will make this whole thing more sustainable. I’m sure you could work on the prompting to get the results you want out of it,” she said.
The young man beamed, “Yeah you’re right! I just need to optimize. I’m a comp-sci student… that’s what we do!”
The two exchanged more friendly words and The Scientist walked away, happy she could help keep the young developer’s passion going.
Besides those two people, the day had been pretty uneventful for The Scientist. None of the other tables really engaged her and many of them were crowded with people putting their business cards into raffle boxes.
The Scientist looked at her watch, it was almost time for her own presentation. Only now did it hit her how much she was dreading it. Public speaking had never been her forte and it had only become more challenging in recent years as the crowds became saturated with investors and tech execs. She highly doubted that any of those people would be interested in her presentation about the dangerous levels of mercury in the lake by her hometown and her proposed remediation project. Although she felt in her heart how important her work was, she was also pragmatic enough to realize that it wasn’t the kind of idea that would raise any stockholder’s eyebrows.
She sighed and walked back over to the window, hoping that one last look at the snow would calm her nerves. The Scientist gazed out and noticed that the children were gone, leaving behind the snowman as proud evidence of their joyous exploits. Suddenly, The Scientist remembered a meditation technique she learned from one of her teachers a long time ago. She fixed her focus on the snowman, tuning out the background chatter both within and around her. The snowman was truly a thing of fine craftsmanship, with neatly lined pebbles forming its eyes and mouth. A bright orange carrot stuck out from the middle of its face.
Suddenly, the carrot fell from the snowman’s face, landing squarely on the snowfloor. Then the pebbles started sliding down and the snowman’s smile drooped into a frown. He was melting!
The Scientist fell out of her meditation and looked out into the background. Very far away in the white snowy vista she could just make out a small cluster of orange. It got bigger (both horizontally and vertically) by the second. After just a few moments she realized what was going on: A tidal wave of fire was heading towards the building, burning everything that stood in its way.
The room got hotter as The Scientist stood dumbfounded. It wasn’t long before people realized what was going on. They screamed and ran. Within seconds, panic had a vice grip on the entire conference. Everyone rushed towards the exits, tripping over exhibits and one another. A couple people got stepped on.
The Scientist found herself unable to move. She couldn’t take her eyes off the fire, for a couple of reasons. First, it was completely illogical. A wildfire in winter? Not to mention they were miles away from the forests. But even more, there was something unnatural about the fire, almost as if it was… alive. It consumed everything in sight, haughtily wrapping itself over buildings, trees, and cars, as if it was exacting vengeance on the material world. Even more terrifying was that it grew relentlessly, seemingly burning through thin air to sustain its demonic hunger for destruction.
She was only shaken out of her trance when the fire alarm started to ring. Despite the horror of the situation, she couldn’t help but think about all the times in high school when her friends would pray for the fire alarm to get out of doing a test or a presentation. One time it actually came true before a big calculus exam. She remembered how happy she had felt going to the burger place across the street to get poutine with her friends instead of slaving over differential equations.
“At least I don’t have to do this dang presentation anymore,” she thought to herself.
This small dose of humour lit a light in The Scientist’s brain, bringing her back to the moment. She looked around and started devising an escape plan. The main exit was clogged with people as the doors were much too small for such a big venue. People pushed and shoved — progress was as slow as cold molasses dripping down a funnel. There was a smaller fire exit in the west side of the building but many presenters had carelessly placed their elaborate exhibitions in front of it. People yelled, argued, and tried to dismantle the endless rows of desks and boards. All in all, the conference looked like a mosh pit at a Slipknot show.
Suddenly, she remembered seeing a set of red ladders earlier in the day. The colour had stood out to her and she even remembered exactly where it was. Without thinking, she ran to it and started climbing. Her arms and legs felt sore after a while but she soldiered on, thanking herself for going to the gym semi-regularly in the last few years. Before long she climbed the last rung and found herself stepping on to the concrete rooftop. It was empty.
From here she could see the fire coming from the north more clearly. It filled up nearly the entire horizontal vista, and The Scientist could not make out where it ended and began. This couldn’t be a natural disaster, it had to be something much more sinister.
Anyways, no time to ponder about it now. The Scientist ran to the south side of the rooftop, away from the fire which was now less than 100 yards away. She looked down — it wasn’t the tallest building. Heavy blankets of snow covered the ground, at least several inches off the ground.
There wasn’t any time to think about it. The fire was getting closer and it would soon melt the snow so quickly. The Scientist gulped and took a leap of faith, covering her face with her arms.
She fell into the snow, free at last.
