Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #13 April 2015 | Page 154
“The mean level of sun flare radiation has gone up
again. It’s been steadily increasing since we started
measuring, and now its growth is becoming exponential.”
Another Justice spoke this time. “Sun flare radiation
goes up and down all the time. It’s high at the moment, yes, but you said yourself that the roof screens
could handle it. We just need to wait it out.” She sat
back, happy that this had closed the subject.
“That’s just it,” Joran tried to apologise with a look,
“Um, it’s not going to go down this time. My interpretation of the Institute’s calculations is that the sun’s
reached a critical level of activity.” He looked round,
willing them all to believe him. “The radiation output is going to keep on increasing until it just burns
through the roof screens one day - and it might be
sooner than we think. If we wait until we’re sure, it
will have overtaken our capacity to act.”
The Justices muttered between themselves, unwilling
to seriously contemplate what was usually regarded
as a theory on the more hysterical fringes of scientific
thought.
It was impossible to live in the open. The roof screens
covering the cities protected the people and their
growing crops, If the sun’s level of radiation ever
overcame the ability of the roof screens to filter it,
the people of Aleameth would be directly threatened.
They could face extinction within a few years if the
roof screens completely failed. However, not everyone
agreed that this would happen. Joran’s presentation
had predicted just that, and had not met with a positive
reception by the guarded Justices.
“Why are you presenting this scenario now, Lecturer Joran? This kind of scaremongering just feeds the
fears of the public.” The speaker was not a Justice.
The tall, well-built man was dressed in the russet
brown of a Higher Will advisor, his voice deep and
commanding.
“Advisor Puyek.” Joran acknowledged him formally. The Higher Will was an ancient philosophy that
advocated accepting the dictates of Aleameth and its
environment, whatever that might mean. Followers of
the philosophy, believed that should they eventually
be poisoned by their own planet, they would be rewarded after death for their humility and acceptance.
It had been a mere possibility in previous generations,
as Aleameth’s ecology had become more hostile, but
the sun’s recent activity had enabled the teachings of
the Higher Will to gain unprecedented