Arctic Drift

Lisa gazed at the sleek car, painted in dual shades of cream and blue. The open cockpit offered cramped seating for two, and there was no backseat. Instead, the bodywork behind the driver’s compartment flared to a triangular point at the rear bumper, in the classic boattail shape.

“I don’t think there’s room for all of us,” she lamented.

“There is if somebody doesn’t mind riding in back,” Pitt replied. He walked over and pushed down on the flush topside surface of the boattail. A hideaway seat folded back, revealing a one-passenger compartment.

“Oh my, I’ve always wanted to ride in a rumble seat,” Lisa said. Without hesitation, she climbed onto a foot bracket and hopped into the compartment.

“My grandfather used to tell me how he rode in the rumble seat of his father’s Packard during the Depression,” she explained.

“No better way to see the world,” Pitt joked, winking at her before helping Loren into the front seat.

They loped through rush hour traffic along the Mall and across the George Mason Bridge before heading south into Virginia. As the city monuments grew smaller behind them, the traffic lightened and Pitt mashed down on the accelerator. With a smooth and powerful twelve-cylinder engine under the hood, the sleek Auburn quickly sprinted past the speed limit. As the car accelerated, Lisa gri

Pitt drove past Mount Vernon, then exited the main highway. At a small crossroad, he turned down a dirt road that meandered through the trees until ending at a small restaurant facing the Potomac River. Pitt parked the Auburn and turned off the motor as the heavy scent of Old Bay Seasoning filled the air.

“Best spiced crabs in the territory,” Pitt promised.

The restaurant was an old riverside home converted to a café, plainly decorated but with a cozy atmosphere. They were seated at a table overlooking the Potomac as a crowd of locals began filtering in.

“Loren tells me you are a research chemist at GWU,” Pitt said to Lisa, after ordering a round of beers and crab.

“Yes, I’m part of an environmental studies group looking at the global-warming problem,” she replied.

“If you ever get bored, NUMA can put you to work on some cutting-edge undersea research,” he offered with a smile. “We have a large team studying the effects of ocean warming and higher acidity levels. I just had a project review with a team studying carbon saturation in the oceans and possible means of boosting carbon absorption in deep water.”

“With all the focus on the atmosphere, I’m glad to see someone is paying attention to the oceans as well. It sounds like there might be some parallels with my research. I’m working on a project related to airborne carbon reduction. I’d love to see the results of your team’s work.”

“It’s just a preliminary report, but you might find it useful. I’ll send a copy to you. Or better yet, I’ll drop it off to you in the morning. I have an appearance to make on the Hill myself,” he added, rolling his eyes at Loren.

“All executive agencies must justify their a

She laughed and gave Pitt a hug, then turned to her friend. “Lisa, you seemed anxious after the hearing today to discuss your research work. Tell me more about it.”

Lisa took a large swallow from her beer, then looked at Loren with trusting eyes.

“I haven’t spoken of this to anyone besides my lab assistant, but I believe we have hit upon a profound discovery.” She spoke in a quiet voice, as if afraid the neighboring diners might hear.

“Go on,” Loren urged, drawn close by Lisa’s demeanor.

“My research involves molecular manipulation of hydrocarbons. We’ve discovered an important catalyst that I believe will allow for artificial photosynthesis on a mass scale.”

“Do you mean like in plants? Converting light into energy?”

“Yes, you remember your botany. But just to make sure… Take that plant over there,” she said, pointing to a large Boston fern dangling in a planter by the window. “It captures light energy from the sun, water from the soil, and carbon dioxide from the air to produce carbohydrates, the fuel source for it to grow. Its only waste product is oxygen, which allows the rest of us to survive. That’s the basic cycle of photosynthesis.”

“Yet the actual process is so complicated, scientists have been unable to duplicate it,” Pitt said with growing interest.

Lisa sat quietly as the waitress appeared and unrolled a sheet of brown butcher paper on the table, then dumped a small mountain of steamed blue crabs in front of them. When they each began attacking a spiced crab with a wood mallet, she continued.

“You’re correct in the general sense. Elements of photosynthesis have been successfully duplicated, but none with anywhere near the efficiency seen in nature. The complexity is very real. That’s why the hundreds of scientists around the world working on artificial photosynthesis typically focus on a single component of the process.”

“Yourself included?” Loren asked.

“Myself included. The research at our lab has focused on the ability of plants to break down water molecules into their individual elements. If we can duplicate the process efficiently, and we’ll get there someday, then we’ll have an unlimited source of cheap hydrogen fuel at our disposal.”

“Your breakthrough is in another direction?” Loren asked.

“My focus has been on a reaction called Photosystem I, and the breakdown of carbon dioxide that occurs in the process.”

“What are the primary challenges?” Pitt asked.

Lisa tore into a second crab, sucking the meat out of a hind claw.

“These are delicious, by the way. The basic problem has been in developing an efficient means of triggering a chemical breakdown. Chlorophyll plays that role in nature, but it decomposes too quickly in the lab. The trick I pursued was to find an artificial catalyst that could break down carbon dioxide molecules.”

Lisa set down her food, then spoke in a low voice again. “That’s where I came up with a solution. Blundered upon it, actually. I left a rhodium sample in the test chamber by mistake and added to it another element called ruthenium. When combined with a light charge, the reaction was an immediate dimerization of the CO2 molecules into oxalate.”

Loren wiped the crab juice off her hands and took a sip of beer. “All of this chemistry is starting to make my head spin,” she complained.

“You sure it’s not the beer and the Bay Seasoning?” Pitt asked with a grin.

“I’m sorry,” Lisa said. “Most of my friends are biochemists, so I sometimes forget to take off my verbal lab coat.”

“Loren has a much better head for public policy than for science,” Pitt kidded. “You were mentioning the outcome of your experiment? ”

“In other words, the catalytic reaction converted the carbon dioxide into a simple compound. With further processing, we can get to a carbon-based fuel, such as ethanol. But the critical reaction was the actual breakdown of the carbon dioxide.”

The pile of crabs had been transformed into a mass of broken claws and empty shells. The middle-aged waitress deftly cleared away the mess and returned a short time later with coffee and key lime pie for the table.

“Forgive me, but I’m not sure I understand what you are saying,” Loren said between bites.

Lisa gazed out the window at some twinkling lights on the far side of the river.

“I’m quite certain that the application of my catalyst can be used to construct a high-output artificial-photosynthesis device.”

“Could it be expanded to industrial proportions?” Pitt asked.