Greg shut out the light and was asleep almost before the room went dark.

Monday, April twentieth, 2009 came none too quickly for Greg. The previous two weeks had been among the busiest in his entire life and now he simply looked forward to immersing himself intellectually in the important work of the EuroSolar Symposium on Alternate Energy. He checked in at the reception desk of the Beethovenhalle at 9:30am and had his laptop and briefcase checked thoroughly by security. The keynote address was to begin at 10:00am, but with the backlog of late arrivals, he knew he had time for at least one more coffee. He looked around to see if he recognised any of the other attendees. It was odd but the crowd seemed to have a number of big energy apologists and Alternative Energy debunkers. Greg felt uneasy about this. It had been these sorts of folk that had almost scuttled the Kyoto accord a decade ago.

he wondered.

she asked drowsily.

she acquiesced. Greg concentrated on the younger people scattered in small knots of conversation. Maybe he could recruit for AERIE from here. Deep in thought, he was startled by a familiar voice from behind him.

“Why Doctor Greg Howard,” the voice said in a fake southern accent, “…as I live and breathe, my eyes must be deceiving me. I thought you never left that pinch of sand of yours in Canada.” Greg spun around to face the source of the voice. It was Jon Tyler, one of his former colleagues from the University of Toronto, and ex-roommate.

“Jon! Jezus, how the hell have you been? Did you ever finish that thesis you were working on?” Greg grinned broadly, pumping his friend’s hand.

“I did indeed,” Jon said, rescuing his hand from the manic grip of his pal, “I gots me a doctorate in chemical engineering… sometime around the time you got your third doctorate… well, that sort of spurred me on a bit,” he smiled brightly. “But I thought you were still in the ‘great white north’, saving the planet one tree at a time.”

“Things change Jonny. I made a big theoretical breakthrough on efficient wind generation and I’m now setting up field tests. I also want to ramp up acceptance of the efficient hybrid car. Canada has signed on, but I have to start cracking other markets too,” Greg laughed.

“That’s so very cool man! All I came up with is a way to break down carbon monoxide so it won’t produce as much smog… in the lab at least,” he admitted jovially.

A small group of the younger people started to move towards them murmuring and gesturing in Greg’s direction. A young oriental woman stopped by the pair and her eyes widened.

“Oh my God! It is you!” her hand covered her mouth. Greg gave Jon a sidelong look.

“Not another one of your Ex's, Jonny?” Greg nudged his friend verbally.

“Oh come off it Greg, these kids have only been reading about you and your work… like forever. Your papers are becoming the basis of graduate work all over the world. You’re the Doctor Seuss of the environment,” Jon said mockingly. He turned toward the gathering crowd and made a fanfare noise.

“Laaadies and gennlemen! Live and in person, the one, the only… Greg Howard! Come one, come all! Step right up and get yer tickets here!” Greg swatted Jon gently on the shoulder.

“Same old goof…” he said, attempting to cover his embarrassment. The young woman spoke up first.

“Dr. Howard, it is such an honour to meet you. Your work has inspired me to study biodiversity and anti-extinction protocols. I’m Rumi Takahashi and I work for the University of Tokyo,” she effused.

“Uh… a pleasure I’m… um… sure, Ms. Takahashi,” Greg stumbled. Jon grinned widely.

“Oho! Still the blushing bride, eh Greg?” he snickered under his breath.

Others stepped forward to congratulate and admire his work and Greg quickly lost track of all the names. He had an idea.

“Excuse me, um… if you’ll all excuse me momentarily, I may have a better way to meet you all,” he cut himself loose from the gathering crowd, tracked the symposium director down and pulled him aside.

“Ah, a moment of your time Sir?” he inquired.

“Certainly Herr Doktor Howard, how may I help you?” the gentleman asked.

“I… uh seem to have attracted a fan club somewhere along the way…” Greg stammered and pointed to the crowd of people around Jon that were looking in his direction. A few even waved, “…and… um… I had noticed you have several periods on the agenda that are simply listed as discussion salons. Would I be correct in assuming that these are simply small gathering rooms?” Greg continued hesitantly.

“Indeed Herr Doktor, that is exactly what they are… ahhh, I see, you wish to have a room put aside for your…” the coordinator grinned, “…fans. I can do that, will a 3 hour booking tomorrow afternoon do?”

“That would be wonderful Herr…?” Greg paused politely for the answer.

“Klaus will be fine. Will you require a coffee service?”

“That also would be wonderful, Klaus. Let me know if you’ll need any payment for the room or the coffee, OK?”

“Certainly Doktor. Would you like the Salon announced?” Klaus asked. Greg thought quickly for a moment and then answered.

“You can… um… call it Dr. Gregory Howard, AERI and AERIE,” he instructed.

“As you wish Doktor,” Klaus wrote quickly on a note pad. “I will announce it before the keynote address so the agenda’s can be updated.”

“Thank you, Klaus,” Greg said warmly. He returned to the group and addressed them.

“Ladies and gentlemen… um… I’ve arranged for a discussion salon tomorrow afternoon where I can meet you all and answer your questions. The time and room will be announced just before the keynote speech, which should be starting right about now. So if you will excuse Doctor Tyler and me, we have to go and find seats for the opening of the symposium. I would suggest you all do the same,” Greg smiled widely at his adoring fans and then took Jon by the elbow and steered him into the main hall.

“Pretty slick Greg. You’ll have them eating out of your hand soon enough,” he chuckled.

“Well gee thanks Jon, you were a great big help.”

They found seats mid-auditorium and settled in for the address. Klaus Neubauer took the podium to address the gathering.

“Ladies and gentlemen, before Professor Bochner begins, I have a late addition to the agenda if you’ll please take note. Tomorrow between 1:00pm and 4:00pm in the Sonata room, there will be a discussion salon titled ‘Doctor Gregory Howard, AERI and AERIE’ moderated by Doctor Howard,” he announced. A low murmur ran through the hall and there was a rustling as people made note of the change to the schedule.

“Now, it is my great pleasure to introduce Professor Anthony Bochner for our keynote address on the true renewability of energy and how we might achieve it…” the director introduced the opening speaker to a long round of applause and then the crowd settled in for the speech.

Almost 2 hours later the crowd applauded again as Professor Bochner left the podium. Greg got up and stretched to loosen his muscles. Jon had already bolted for the men’s room and Greg decided that would be a good idea as well.

chirped Trish.

Greg replied.

she asked him suspiciously.

he filled her in on his plan.

Trish was mightily impressed.

Greg completed her thoughts with a flourish.

she teased.

The afternoon sessions continued after lunch and Greg couldn’t help notice the group of detractors who seemed to oppose any form of energy that was not a dead dinosaur or didn’t leave a toxic residue behind. They regarded Greg and his popularity with a disdain that used to be reserved for rock stars. The seeming ringleader of the obstructionists, Doctor Frederick Gullivan, cornered him during the afternoon break.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Doctor Popularity himself. Still pushing your tree hugging beliefs on the rest of us, are you?” he sneered.

“Ahhhh, Doctor Gullivan. Well it seems that I don’t have to push all too hard nowadays, what with everyone abandoning your sort of ideas. What’s the matter? Are your corporate masters losing their profit-share?” Greg shot back.

“Howard, you seem like a bright person but I can’t understand why you environmental types are always trying to frighten people with your doom and gloom scenarios. There is more than enough oil, gas and coal on the planet to last for years,” he said.

“Really? That much? Is there enough of the planet left? How many people will be poisoned by your extraction processes? Why is it you can’t drink tap water without a filter anymore? Why are so many of the major arboreal regions dead or dying now? Corporate greed is killing the planet, but you don’t have to worry about that do you? You’ll be long dead by the time Earth is uninhabitable, won’t you?” Greg’s questions were like rapid-fire, his voice rising in volume as he spoke.

“Why you young punk! Are you against progress too?” Gullivan was noticeably shaken.

“Unrestrained progress at the cost of our only home? Why yes, of course I’m against it! I notice you’re drinking bottled water… won’t expose yourself to your own pollutants, will you? Hypocrite,” Greg said dismissively.

“You’re a fine one to talk. I read the prospectus on that vehicle of yours. I see it still uses petroleum in its fuel,” Greg’s opponent forced the continuation of the debate.

“Why Gully, I didn’t know you could read. If you had really read the prospectus, you would have seen that the gasohol blend is 85% corn alcohol and 15% petrol. Moreover, you might have noticed that the next model is phasing out the combustion engine completely in late 2010. I intend to remove petroleum from consumer transportation by 2015 and place the final nail in the coffin of the oil industry soon after! You’d better update your resume by then ‘cause you’ll be pounding the pavement and looking for work. Just don’t apply to the AERI or its sister installations,”

Greg advised the man, effectively terminating the conversation. Doctor Gullivan looked like he was about to explode and strutted away sputtering incomprehensibly. There was a loud round of applause and Greg realized he had lost his temper in a gathering of his peers. He blushed and made a satirical bow toward the crowd. Jon and Rumi approached him from the refreshment table. Rumi handed him a bottle of water. He cocked an eyebrow at her and set it back on the table.

“Bravo Greg, old Gully looked like he was going to pop. I’ve wanted to see him put in his place since he sat on my original doctorate committee,” said Jon approvingly.

“It was marvellous to watch Doctor Howard. People like him make me feel ill,” she seconded.

“Thanks… Rumi, was it? Please, call me Greg. I didn’t know he sat on your graduate thesis committee Jon. Did he reject it?”

“Twice... he couldn’t understand why I clung to my empty-headed environmental ideals. He got a job with the oil industry shortly after and without him on the committee I passed with flying colours. Oddly enough, it was his signature on the job offer I received from Shell,” Jon smiled at the irony.

“Dr. Tyler, it sounds like he wanted to control your research,” Rumi commented.

“You could very well be right Ms. Takahashi. It certainly took me a long time to find employment after I rejected the Shell offer, but I managed to complete my second doctoral thesis in the meantime,” Jon mused.

“Are you working now Jon?” Greg asked.

“Just at the good ol’ U of T. The hours are long, but hey… the pay sucks,” Jon grinned his infectious grin, his eyes twinkling with good humour, and all three of them broke up laughing.

The symposium ended for the day at 6:00pm and the delegates returned to their hotels to rest and prepare for the second day. Greg took Trish to a romantic restaurant and they discussed the day’s events.

giggled Trish diabolically.

Greg grumped.

Trish was enjoying the replay of events.

Trish began humming ‘I’d Like To Teach The World To Sing’.

Greg interrupted her small jest,

Their banter became more serious now.

Trish sighed happily. They went back to the hotel and made love in a sunny field all night long.

Interlude: Island SIX.

Dreamwalker assembled his team in the conference room and began,

“It’s time people… time for us to stop playing like this is some sort of popularity contest, constantly worrying about the press and whether governments are condemning us or not. We have the power to reshape the world, not as Gods, but as the representatives of the downtrodden.” Sarida spoke up.

“What do you propose David? I know that Carina and I will follow you, as will the others, I’m sure,” she said genuinely.

“We must give the people of the world the means to free themselves from their corporate masters Sarida. Redistribute the true wealth of this planet to her people. Water, food, shelter and power, but most importantly, we must eliminate the fear that grips the majority of the population. The corporations and their governmental lapdogs have control of all the regular distribution channels and they have weapons to force their views on others. We however, have the power to disarm and wrest the control of distribution away from them. We can repair the soil that has been factory farmed until there are no nutrients left; we can supply water from the icecaps to make the deserts bloom again; we can provide legacy seeds that will reproduce without human aid or intervention; we can make the world healthy again,” his voice boomed through the conference room like a television evangelist.

The other members of The Six were on their feet and cheering. This is what they all wanted to do. Make the world a paradise, and woe betide any who stood in their way.

End interlude.

Day two of the symposium started on an amusing note for Greg when he saw that the troublemakers and naysayers were being studiously ignored by the bulk of the attendees. Whenever one of their group tried to start a conversation or join one in already in progress, they were ignored or walked away from.

Trish observed.

Greg said in amusement. Gullivan just glared as Greg passed him and there were rumblings from his assemblage of cronies. Greg ignored them and headed straight for the coffee. Rumi, who was having a croissant and tea, joined him.

“Good morning Doct… I mean Doc. You sure can liven up a joint! Look at all the groups… And do you know what the main topic of conversation is?” she smiled.

“I don’t know Rumi… either the environment or me,” Greg said facetiously.
“The latter Doc… definitely the latter. You know, I just found out that you are the first person in 12 years not to be cowed by Gullivan? No one is even giving him the time of day now,” she winked knowingly at Greg.

“Well good… karma is often a rigorous mistress,” Greg smirked. “He’s a corporate tool anyway, and you can take that however you wish Rumi,” he winked back. “I have two workshops this morning. Will I see you at the salon this afternoon?”

“Oh yes, I’ll be there, as will most of the others here. They’ve moved your salon to a larger room to accommodate all the people who signed up… and here comes Mr. Neubauer to inform you now,” Rumi nodded in the direction of the gentleman approaching them.

“Herr Doktor Howard?”

“Good morning Klaus, I just heard that my little meeting isn’t so little anymore,” Greg greeted him.

“True Herr Doktor, we have had to open 3 of the rooms together, but there is no difficulty as the other salons can now be placed in smaller rooms. Doctor Gullivan’s group has just dropped to 20 attendees. Uh… about the good Doctor, I’m afraid I must inform you that he has lodged a formal complaint against you,” Klaus responded uncomfortably.

“Really… imagine my surprise,” Greg said contemptuously. “I have a feeling that the low numbers for his group may have had something to do with it, as well as the little discussion we had yesterday…” Klaus gave Greg a small tight smile.

“Even so… the complaint was heard and dealt with and he was censured by the committee.” Greg smiled back.

“Poor Frederick, his week just keeps getting worse and worse, doesn’t it?” Greg said facetiously. “Do me a favour Klaus? Would you please set up a buffet of cold meats, cheeses and fruit, with beverage service for this afternoon’s gathering? I’ll pay.”

“Of course Herr Doktor,” the director said, his eyes twinkling, “we will arrange a tab with the hall for you.”

“And Klaus, my name is Greg, not Herr Doktor, OK?” Greg insisted.

“Of course… Greg.” Klaus hurried off towards the symposium office. Rumi watched the exchange and then turned back to Greg.

“And that’s why you’ll always be a better person then Gullivan, Doc… you treat everyone with respect,” she commented sagely. Rumi wandered off to join one of the other groups and Greg helped himself to some more coffee before heading off to his workshop for the first half of the morning.

Four tedious hours later, Greg emerged into the lobby blinking his eyes and shaking the cobwebs loose from his mind. How could men call themselves learned if they feared and mistrusted new ideas? He had heard proposals for mining the Arctic and Antarctic regions for the coal and gas fields believed to be there. He had also noticed that none of the researchers in the workshops was less than 65 years old. He walked outside to get some fresh air. On days like this, he almost wished he didn’t have to be inside. Greg noticed there was a large black limo parked at the foot of the stairs. The rear doors of the limo opened and several large men got out.

he warned.

Trish advised him. He stepped back into the shadow of the Beethovenhalle entrance and waited. The men approached him.

The largest of them spoke.

“Doctor Howard?”

“Who wants to know?” Greg responded.

“Never mind the lip, are you Doctor Gregory Howard?” the man leaned in threateningly.

“And I’ll repeat my question, who are you and why do you want to know?” Greg said again firmly.

“Ah c’mon Sammy, this is the smart guy… we all saw his picture,” a weasel faced hood spoke up. The bruiser addressed as Sammy glared at his underling, then narrowed his eyes menacingly to look at Greg.

“You’re comin’ with us Poindexter, and this ain’t no request,” he growled. Greg stood his ground.

“Then take me away, if you must…” Greg invited. The first of the men reached for him and he neatly broke his arm. Two quick kicks to the kneecaps and the man was on the ground weeping.

“Uh Sammy, he ain’t supposed to be able to do that,” said the weaselly fellow.

Two of the men rushed Greg and he whirled, kicking the first in the solar plexus and catching the second on the chin. They both went down and stayed there. Greg wasn’t even breathing hard.

“Who’s next, you Sammy?” asked Greg with a feral grin. “You’re almost out of thugs. Oh… I thought not. Now bugger off… and take your garbage with you… I have a meeting to attend,” Greg spoke over his shoulder as he started back into the auditorium.

The remaining men started to drag their fallen back to the car. The one called Sammy turned back towards Greg and snarled,

“This isn’t over Howard, not by any stretch of the imagination!”

“That’s Doctor Howard to you Sammy,” Greg hurled back, “and you should hire a better quality of muscle next time.” He flipped Sam the bird just as the door closed behind him.

“How did you do that Doc?” a soft voice asked incredulously. Greg spun on his heel, still on the defensive. Then he saw it was Rumi and relaxed.

“You mean them?” asked Greg dismissively. “Tai Chi and Chai Tea… I used to study martial arts when I was younger and I’ve kept the Tai Chi up,” Greg covered smoothly.

“You were so fast, it was amazing…” she breathed.

“Well I felt something was up when I saw the goon squad coming and it gave me time to summon up my chi,” he said offhandedly. “You’ll note I didn’t attack, I defended myself.”

“So you say Doc,” Rumi shook her head, “What did they want?”

“They wanted me to take a little ride with them, but if they had been cops, they’d have identified themselves when I asked,” Greg smiled ruefully. “I guess I stepped on someone’s toes yesterday. You watch Gully and his pals when I come back into the atrium, I think they’ll be very surprised to see me.”

To Be Continued