Read Online The Explorer's Code by Kitty Pilgrim - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kitty Pilgrim
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which administers the International Seed Vault.
The International Seed Vault is now located on the site of the former Arctic Coal Mining Company owned by Elliott Stapleton. The government of Norway constructed the seed vault on your inherited property without a proper title search. Therefore, the land on which the seed vault is built belongs to you. The government of Norway will undoubtedly contact you in the near future to ask you to sell the rights to the land. We urge you not to do so.
We believe that no sovereign nation should be in possession of the vault. It should remain in trust to protect the common interest of humanity, and its benefits should remain outside the conflict of national interests. We respectfully request that you contact our solicitor at your earliest convenience to discuss this matter.
Yours sincerely,
Thaddeus Frost, Executive Director, Bio-Diversity Trust
She hit the Forward button and sent it to Jim Gardiner in New York. What on earth were they talking about? Jim could figure it out.
She was absolutely exhausted. With the time-zone shift, even her bones were tired, and her head was spinning. She walked to the bathroom, dropping her gown to the floor. She’d pick it up later. Cordelia had barely enough energy to splash water on her face and brush her teeth. Her nightgown felt light and cool. She pulled down the coverlet, slipped into the silkiness of the Frette sheets, and closed her eyes.
But even as tired as she was, Cordelia was not at all sleepy. Her mind was racing through a montage of all the spectacular scenes from the event. She kept hearing the speeches, and replaying the long walk to the podium in the spotlight with John Sinclair looking at her. The scent of his lemony, herbal cologne, and the feel of his hand next to hers. His jacket sleeve brushing her shoulder. What an unnerving man. She reviewed her conversation with Prince Albert II and marveled at how much knowledge he had about environmental matters. She remembered her conversation with Charles Bonnard. She really must have jet lag, to refuse a drink with him.
The whole evening had been sensory overload, and she couldn’t find the off switch to her brain. After forty minutes of listening to the soft whir of the air conditioner, Cordelia sat up, turned on the bedside lamp, and picked up the battered leather journal of Elliott Stapleton.
J ANUARY 1, 1908
I N THIS LEAP YEAR OF 1908 , I MAY WELL NEED THE EXTRA DAY TO RECOVER FROM THE FESTIVITIES OF LAST EVENING. I SPENT MUCH OF THE EARLY EVENING AT R ECTOR’S ON B ROADWAY, WHERE L ANGDON H ALE HAD ASSEMBLED A DOZEN OF HIS COMPATRIOTS. W E CONSUMED QUANTITIES OF CHAMPAGNE ALONG WITH OYSTERS THE SIZE OF SAUCERS . A LMOST AN HOUR BEFORE MIDNIGHT WE ASSEMBLED IN THE BROAD PLAZA , T IMES S QUARE, IN FRONT OF THE T IMES T OWER BUILDING, THE SECOND TALLEST STRUCTURE IN THE CITY.
O N THE SUMMIT, THEY HAVE ERECTED A 70-FOOT FLAGPOLE AND A LARGE SPHERE, ENTIRELY COVERED IN ELECTRICAL LIGHTS . W E WERE TOLD AT MIDNIGHT IT WOULD DESCEND . T HE ROWDINESS OF THE CROWD INCREASED AS THE HOUR DREW NEAR. S EVERAL OF L ANGDON’S FEMALE FRIENDS WERE CLINGING TO ME IN THE HOPE OF KEEPING WARM . S UDDENLY THE CROWD BROKE INTO A THROBBING CHANT, AND THE LIGHTED GLOBE STARTED MOVING SLOWLY DOWNWARD UNTIL BRIGHT LIGHTS PULSED THE YEAR 1908.
A GREAT CHEER WENT UP AND MY COMPANIONS WERE EMBRACING EACH OTHER. O NE WAS EMBOLDENED ENOUGH TO PRESS HER LIPS TO MINE IN A CELEBRATION OF THE MOMENT . W E THEN REPAIRED TO THE FAMOUS M ARTIN’S, BUT BY THREE IN THE MORNING MY ENTHUSIASM FOR THE COMPANY HAD WANED AND I SENT MYSELF OFF TO BED.
The sunlight was blazing in from the balcony. Her reading light was still on and the journal was lying across her chest. Cordelia put the journal gently on the night table and walked outside. It was breezy, her cotton batiste nightgown billowed around her limbs, and the sun warmed her body through the thin fabric. How could she have slept so long? Time to get moving.
The International Seed Vault is now located on the site of the former Arctic Coal Mining Company owned by Elliott Stapleton. The government of Norway constructed the seed vault on your inherited property without a proper title search. Therefore, the land on which the seed vault is built belongs to you. The government of Norway will undoubtedly contact you in the near future to ask you to sell the rights to the land. We urge you not to do so.
We believe that no sovereign nation should be in possession of the vault. It should remain in trust to protect the common interest of humanity, and its benefits should remain outside the conflict of national interests. We respectfully request that you contact our solicitor at your earliest convenience to discuss this matter.
Yours sincerely,
Thaddeus Frost, Executive Director, Bio-Diversity Trust
She hit the Forward button and sent it to Jim Gardiner in New York. What on earth were they talking about? Jim could figure it out.
She was absolutely exhausted. With the time-zone shift, even her bones were tired, and her head was spinning. She walked to the bathroom, dropping her gown to the floor. She’d pick it up later. Cordelia had barely enough energy to splash water on her face and brush her teeth. Her nightgown felt light and cool. She pulled down the coverlet, slipped into the silkiness of the Frette sheets, and closed her eyes.
But even as tired as she was, Cordelia was not at all sleepy. Her mind was racing through a montage of all the spectacular scenes from the event. She kept hearing the speeches, and replaying the long walk to the podium in the spotlight with John Sinclair looking at her. The scent of his lemony, herbal cologne, and the feel of his hand next to hers. His jacket sleeve brushing her shoulder. What an unnerving man. She reviewed her conversation with Prince Albert II and marveled at how much knowledge he had about environmental matters. She remembered her conversation with Charles Bonnard. She really must have jet lag, to refuse a drink with him.
The whole evening had been sensory overload, and she couldn’t find the off switch to her brain. After forty minutes of listening to the soft whir of the air conditioner, Cordelia sat up, turned on the bedside lamp, and picked up the battered leather journal of Elliott Stapleton.
J ANUARY 1, 1908
I N THIS LEAP YEAR OF 1908 , I MAY WELL NEED THE EXTRA DAY TO RECOVER FROM THE FESTIVITIES OF LAST EVENING. I SPENT MUCH OF THE EARLY EVENING AT R ECTOR’S ON B ROADWAY, WHERE L ANGDON H ALE HAD ASSEMBLED A DOZEN OF HIS COMPATRIOTS. W E CONSUMED QUANTITIES OF CHAMPAGNE ALONG WITH OYSTERS THE SIZE OF SAUCERS . A LMOST AN HOUR BEFORE MIDNIGHT WE ASSEMBLED IN THE BROAD PLAZA , T IMES S QUARE, IN FRONT OF THE T IMES T OWER BUILDING, THE SECOND TALLEST STRUCTURE IN THE CITY.
O N THE SUMMIT, THEY HAVE ERECTED A 70-FOOT FLAGPOLE AND A LARGE SPHERE, ENTIRELY COVERED IN ELECTRICAL LIGHTS . W E WERE TOLD AT MIDNIGHT IT WOULD DESCEND . T HE ROWDINESS OF THE CROWD INCREASED AS THE HOUR DREW NEAR. S EVERAL OF L ANGDON’S FEMALE FRIENDS WERE CLINGING TO ME IN THE HOPE OF KEEPING WARM . S UDDENLY THE CROWD BROKE INTO A THROBBING CHANT, AND THE LIGHTED GLOBE STARTED MOVING SLOWLY DOWNWARD UNTIL BRIGHT LIGHTS PULSED THE YEAR 1908.
A GREAT CHEER WENT UP AND MY COMPANIONS WERE EMBRACING EACH OTHER. O NE WAS EMBOLDENED ENOUGH TO PRESS HER LIPS TO MINE IN A CELEBRATION OF THE MOMENT . W E THEN REPAIRED TO THE FAMOUS M ARTIN’S, BUT BY THREE IN THE MORNING MY ENTHUSIASM FOR THE COMPANY HAD WANED AND I SENT MYSELF OFF TO BED.
The sunlight was blazing in from the balcony. Her reading light was still on and the journal was lying across her chest. Cordelia put the journal gently on the night table and walked outside. It was breezy, her cotton batiste nightgown billowed around her limbs, and the sun warmed her body through the thin fabric. How could she have slept so long? Time to get moving.
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