Scheherazade was the happiest of all. She kept telling stories to the sultan until he relented of his murderous ways, much to the joy of all Baghdad.
She thought of the storytellers’ guild as her own personal creation and called it Scheherazade’s Fables and Wonders Association.
That slightly ponderous name was soon abbreviated to SFWA.
NUCLEAR AUTUMN
The alternative to strategic defenses in space is no defense against nuclear attack, the policy called mutual assured destruction. MAD is essentially a mutual suicide pact between the superpowers: attack is deterred because neither side dares risk the other’s devastating counterattack.
But there might be another way for a ruthless and calculating enemy to launch a nuclear attack and confidently expect no counterstrike at all.
The arguments over Nuclear Winter—the idea that a sufficient number of nuclear explosions in the atmosphere will plunge the whole world into an era of freezing darkness that will extinguish all life on Earth—is being hotly debated among scientists today.
Strangely, very little of this debate is being reported in the media. Even the science press is largely ignoring it. To the media, Nuclear Winter is a Truth. It was revealed through press conferences, a slickly illustrated book, and videotapes. No matter that the basic scientific underpinnings of the idea are under attack by many atmospheric physicists and other scientists. It is now embedded in cement in the mind-sets of the world’s media—and many science fiction writers, too.
Critics of Nuclear Winter claim that its proponents used Joe McCarthy tactics to publicize what, to them, is a political idea rather than a scientific theory. They claim that Carl Sagan, Paul Ehrlich, et al made their publicity splash and “sold” the idea to the media, and only afterward quietly admitted that there are some doubts about the models and calculations they used.
On their side, Sagan, Ehrlich, and their colleagues insist that Nuclear Winter has been verified by extensive computer simulations, and is absolute proof that even a relatively small nuclear war threatens to end not only human life on Earth, but all life.
“Nuclear Autumn” takes it for granted that the Nuclear Winter theory is right. It shows one of the possible consequences. A very likely one, I fear.
“They’re bluffing,” said the President of the United States.
“Of course they’re bluffing,” agreed her science advisor. “They have to be.”
The chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, a grizzled old infantry general, looked grimly skeptical.
For a long, silent moment they faced each other in the cool, quiet confines of the Oval Office. The science advisor looked young and handsome enough to be a television personality, and indeed had been one for a while before he allied himself with the politician who sat behind the desk. The President looked younger than she actually was, thanks to modern cosmetics and a ruthless self-discipline. Only the general seemed to be old, a man of an earlier generation, gray-haired and wrinkled, with light brown eyes that seemed sad and weary.
“I don’t believe they’re bluffing,” he said. “I think they mean exactly what they say—either we cave in to them or they launch their missiles.”
The science advisor gave him his most patronizing smile. “General, they have to be bluffing. The numbers prove it.”
“The only numbers that count,” said the general, “are that we have cut our strategic ballistic missile force by half since this Administration came into office.”
“And made the world that much safer,” said the President. Her voice was firm, with a sharp edge to it.
The general shook his head. “Ma’am, the only reason I have not tendered my resignation is that I know full well the nincompoop you intend to appoint in my place.”
The science advisor laughed. Even the President smiled at the old man.
“The Soviets are not bluffing,” the general repeated. “They mean exactly what they say.”
With a patient sigh, the science advisor explained, “General, they cannot—repeat, cannot—launch a nuclear strike at us or anyone else. They know the numbers as well as we do. A large nuclear strike, in the three-thousand-megaton range, will so damage the environment that the world will be plunged into a Nuclear Winter. Crops and animal life will be wiped out by months of subfreezing temperatures. The sky will be dark with soot and grains of pulverized soil. The sun will be blotted out. All life on Earth will die.”
The general waved an impatient hand. “I know your story. I’ve seen your presentations.”
“Then how can the Russians attack us, when they know they’ll be killing themselves even if we don’t retaliate?”
“Maybe they haven’t seen your television specials. Maybe they don’t believe in Nuclear Winter.”
“But they have to!” said the science advisor. “The numbers are the same for them as they are for us.”
“Numbers,” grumbled the general.
“Those numbers describe reality,” the science advisor insisted. “And the men in the Kremlin are realists. They understand what Nuclear Winter means. Their own scientists have told them exactly what I’ve told you.”
“Then why did they insist on this hot-line call?”
Spreading his hands in the gesture millions had come to know from his television series, the science advisor replied, “They’re reasonable men. Now that they know nuclear weapons are unusable, they are undoubtedly trying to begin negotiations to resolve our differences without threatening nuclear war.”
“You think so?” muttered the general.
The President leaned back in her swivel chair. “We’ll find out what they want soon enough,” she said. “Kolgoroff will be on the hot line in another minute or so.”
The science advisor smiled at her. “I imagine he’ll suggest a summit meeting to negotiate a new disarmament treaty.”
