the choice cuts to look through.”
He had a couple
of USB sticks which we plugged into my computer. We watched a few
adverts showing the elephant herds grazing and a lion bringing down
its prey. These were followed by a ten-minute documentary of a
young buck learning its world.
“Nice, right?”
said Harry proudly.
It was all part
of Noah’s plan. He wanted to conserve ecosystems and species in
miniature until the world was ready for them again, but there could
be no recovery until people had changed their priorities.
“Do you really
think this will work?” I asked Harry.
“People live in
front of their TVs,” he said with a shrug, “and they will want to
watch this. As soon as we are up and running people will be able to
follow the lives of their favourite animals. People will be able to
choose which cameras they use, which animals they follow and which
sides they take when hunter and prey go to war. Exciting, education
and emotional. Now that’s what I call good TV.”
Noah wanted to
inspire a whole generation to better things. I privately wondered
if a rerelease of animals could ever happen, or if Noah’s ships
would be the only place where animals would still live free. The
Park could potentially survive the total failure of the Earth’s
ecosystem and still last for years, a bastion of nature doomed to
eventual failure. Perhaps Noah’s long term plan included larger
Parks, but the immediate strategy was one of entertainment.
“Changing the
world by documentary,” I said with a hopeful smile.
“The most
comprehensive nature documentary ever made,” he said, holding up an
imaginary glass to cheers me.
I worked
through the night, only falling asleep as the sun rose. When I
awoke, the ship was moored about ten kilometres off the shore of
New York. We had reached our destination. Helicopters began
arriving early in the afternoon, each bringing a group of
journalists to the boat. The journalists were on the Parklands
1 to ask questions about the animals and the forthcoming series
of documentaries. Only a hundred journalists had been invited,
although thousands from across the world had applied. The
journalists that attended were representatives of every large
network, news station, blog and search engine on the planet. They
were the cutting edge of popular opinion for billions across the
globe.
As the Park’s
senior ecologist, I had been asked to sit in on the interviews and
answer questions. I was used to presenting before small audiences,
but everything I said today would be seen by most of the Earth’s
population. My mouth was dry, and my hands shook slightly.
“You ready?”
asked Shaun, who offered me a cup of coffee as he led me to the
interview room.
The coffee was
bitter and black, but Shaun’s company was relaxing.
“You’ll be
fine, boy. Noah has faith in you, and so do we,” he said.
I wondered when
he had talked to Noah. I myself had only heard from our leader via
curt emails. Noah himself was absent, as always. I wondered what he
could be doing that was more important than the unveiling of his
masterpiece. I walked into the interview room and took a seat at
the desk set to face the journalists. A small earpiece sat on the
table in front of me. I put it in my ear, but couldn’t hear
anything.
I was surprised
to see that Dr. Emzara was standing at the back of the room rather
than sitting beside me. She winked and gave me a thumbs up.
The interview
room was a new addition to the Park. It was totally transparent and
projected out above the safari. We were low enough to see
individual animals moving below us. The view was impressive, even
to those of us used to such sights. The glass became opaque just
before the journalists entered, cutting off any view of the Park.
The journalists entered quietly and with unusual reverence. They
sat quickly, keen to hear from us.
I was the only
member of Noah’s team sitting at the desk, and I was beginning to
feel very uncomfortable. The