The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(72)

In the middle of the dance floor, Tommy gyrated with a gaggle of his friends, resplendent in a white evening jacket.



They looked so young.



What sort of world would they inherit?



Hershel nudged me with his shoulder.



“What was that sigh?”



“Doomsday stuff.”



I waved it away and picked up my champagne glass.



This party must have cost them a fortune.



France hadn’t been able to get a vintage ripe since before the Meteor.



“Ah … you’re also looking at those kids and doing weather projections forty years out, huh?”



He nodded and picked up his own glass, lifting it in a toast.



“To the long summer.”



“To space.”



I clinked my glass against his and sipped it,

bubbles rising up to bring flavors of apricot and flint along the top of my palate.



“Do you think they’ll remember what the stars looked like?”



He shook his head.



“Rachel doesn’t.”



My breath caught in my throat.



Of course.



She’d only been five when the Meteor hit.



By the time the dust settled, there was enough steam in the air to give us near constant cloud cover.



“That’s appallingly tragic.”



“Not for her.”



He pointed with his champagne flute toward where she spun with some of her friends.



Her little taffeta party dress twirled out around her.



“She thinks all of this is normal and just the way the world works.”



“Even with a father who is a meteorologist.”



“Oh … she has an intellectual understanding of it, but, it’s like … I don’t remember what it was like to walk.



The polio hit when I was so young, you know?”



He rested a hand on his crutches where they sat propped against the table.



“This is my normal.



Intellectually, I know that it’s not.



That a disease paralyzed my legs.



But I have no memory of being able to move them.”



I hadn’t known that, oddly.



But I suppose my own memory was just as skewed.



My brother had used crutches since before I was born.



That was just normal.



So, I guess I had firsthand experience that proved his point.



These kids wouldn’t realize how much things had changed.



“How … how bad

does the global climate look?



I’m so focused on the IAC that I haven’t been tracking it.”



“Well … the cold went a little longer than we projected, but I think that’s because our models were based on volcanic eruptions, and ash is nonreflective.



Plus, we didn’t take into account how long things burned.



I mean, we did, but the data from the early days was pretty scarce, so…” He shrugged, light glinting off his glasses as he looked toward the ceiling.



“The greenhouse effect is still going to hit, but

it’s looking like the ozone wasn’t damaged as badly as we thought it would be.



Again, modeling based on A-bomb testing.”



“So … it’s not an extinction event?”



“This is why I’m not allowed to talk to the press.”



He wiped the back of his hand across the back of his mouth.



“The Earth is going to heat up.



That’s going to be permanent.



But if we can limit the amount of greenhouse gases we generate, then we might—and I stress the word

might—be able to keep the Earth habitable.



Or at least habitable longer.”



“Well … that’s something.”



After that, what do you say?



We sat and watched people dancing.



Doris’s brother had pulled her out on the dance floor.



I was a little jealous of her for getting to dance with her brother.



Or anyone, really.



I cleared my throat.



“Nathaniel is sorry he couldn’t be here.”



Hershel waved that away.



“The crash.



I understand.”



“Still.”



All of these people, and we were the only Wexlers.



I wasn’t even properly a Wexler anymore, and Rachel wouldn’t be when she got married.