Fifty Degrees Below - Kim Stanley Robinson [114]
Now he watched Joe stare out the window at the falling snow: not writhing in his arms, not trying to throw anything, not bouncing around absorbed in solitary play, not babbling. Of course the snow was a startling sight, so fair enough. But Charlie was scared by the way Joe felt in his arms.
“Maybe we should go out there and play in the snow!”
“Okay.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun! We can dress warm and make a snowman. Throw snowballs.”
“Okay Da.”
Charlie sighed. No leap up, no marching to the door shouting GO GO GO with finger imperiously extended. . . .
He got up and started to get them dressed. It was a long operation. It was eighteen degrees outside. Already he was thinking, fire in the fireplace, Thomas the Train on the carpet, snow drifting down outside the window. “We won’t be able to stay out long.”
The phone rang. “Oh, wait just a second here.”
Joe’s eyes bugged out in their old style. “Daaa! Wanna GO! GO!”
“Ha! I bet you do! Good for you! Just a second, ha ha. Hello?”
“Charlie it’s Roy.”
“Roy! How are you?”
“I’m fine you? This a good time?”
“No worse than usual.”
“Still suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous children?”
“Yes. Joe and I are about to go outside in the snow, but I can talk to you out there. Let me get my earplug in.”
“I won’t keep you long, you guys just keep doing what you’re doing. We’ve been talking about what Phil can say to counter the president’s people’s attacks. Now that he’s declared he’s running, they’re clearly concerned, and they keep saying that he’ll gut the economy in a futile attempt to reverse climate change.”
“As opposed to letting it continue on its merry way?”
“Yes. Adaptation opportunities are a big thing in certain think tanks now. There are regions due to see more productive climates, they say.”
“I’ll bet they do. Well, let’s hold them to that. Phil has to keep saying that getting right with the planet has become an industrial activity, and getting there first could be a spur to any nation’s economy. It’ll be like the dot com boom, only real.”
“Uh huh, uh huh, I’m writing all this down—”
“Yeah right.”
“—but why shouldn’t we just let private enterprise take care of it, like they say it will?”
“The free market is not good at disaster recovery. Catastrophe is not profitable.”
“But they say it is.”
“We’ll have to point out that it isn’t true.”
“Maybe that’s why we keep losing.”
“Think positive, Roy. Here, put your legs in first, it works better that way. It’s warmer. No way are we going outside unless you agree to put that on. You’re so funny!”
“Charlie, do you need to go?”
“No no. Hey, come on! No, not at all. Here we go. Now, what were we saying, that we’re doomed to lose this election?”
“No, it’s not that, I’m just trying to refine the message.”
“Job creation! Helping people get through the bad weather by stimulating these two new industries, adaptation, then mitigation.”
“The time for a Work Projects Administration may have passed.”
“Roy—”
“I’m just trying to see their next move!”
“You’re bumming me out. I’m out in the beautiful white snow, whee!”
“Ooh! Ooh!”
“Okay Charlie. Call me back, I don’t think my ear can handle you guys besporting yourselves like that.”
“Right, think it over and I’ll call you back. We won’t be out long. Oh but wait just a sec—when I do call back, remind me we should talk about insurance, they might be interested hey Joe! Bye.”
“Bye.”
Charlie hustled after Joe, out into the street. Their street dead-ended right in front of their house, and there was a blanket of snow