Light up the World

By Robert C. Brewster

'Light up the World' tells the story of North America’s endeavors to alleviate their reliance and dependency, on foreign countries for its energy needs.  A massive hydroelectric project unlike anything the world has ever seen is being built in the furthest northern regions of Quebec. 
Funded by huge American oil conglomerates, tobacco companies and other International institutions, project HOPE (Hydro Ocean Powered Electricity) will generate enough electrical power to supply more than half of North America’s energy needs.  Everything seems fine until something goes drastically wrong.  Will the money people understand that the project must be put on hold?  Would they believe the inventor’s explanation, after he was the one who convinced them that the project was not only feasible but also very doable?  Would the greed for profits overshadow the tremendous loss of human lives that would surely occur, if dollars were more important than lost souls?  How far would they go in order to ensure that project HOPE went ahead on schedule?  Could they realistically be stopped, considering their unlimited resources? 
 

LIGHT UP THE WORLD answers those questions and proposes viable solutions to this new age problem.  Its unexpected ending will leave readers not only satisfied but enlightened.  In an energy-starved world whose basic existence depends on mass consumption, renewable energy sources are an undeniable factor for its very continuance.  This story offers us hope but also spells out the necessities that must be taken to ensure that that day, will soon arrive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert C. Brewster
• Release date: Jan 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781540185761

Robert C. Brewster

Robert C. Brewster is the author of six previous fiction novels. There is also a non-fiction account of his time spending summers along the New Jersey shore in the late sixties and early seventies, called: 'On the road to find out.'  He is a writer/film actor/voice character specialist and lives with his wife Kim and daughter Britany and son Kristy in St. Sauveur des Monts, Quebec, Canada.  

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ALSO BY ROBERT C. BREWSTER

FICTION

A MOMENT OF CLARITY

GENTLEMEN & PIGS

NO BORDERS NO BOUNDARIES (REVISITED)

DECEIT DECEPTION AND DELIVERANCE (REVISITED)

NON- FICTION

ON THE ROAD TO FIND OUT

I love hearing from my readers.  Please visit

www.robertcbrewster.com

and leave me a message.

Create Space Publishing in 2016, 1st Edition

Copyright © Text Robert C. Brewster First print edition

The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. All Rights Reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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This book is dedicated to the loving memory of Elliot Shatsky, who left our realm on July 2, 2013 and Gerry Stewart who left us on January 1, 2016.  Both of you were dear and true friends of mine and shining lights to so many.  The world was a much brighter place, with you guys in it, my friends.  I love you guys and miss you both so much.

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ONE

HUDSON BAY, QUEBEC 1980

Unless you have stood with your feet on the ground, and stared out into the vast expanse of Hudson Bay, you cannot begin to imagine what it is like, nor can you find appropriate words to describe it.  It is an enormous body of water, which is eight hundred and fifty miles long, and at points six hundred and fifty miles wide.  It is considered part of the Arctic Ocean and into it, drains water from five Canadian provinces and four American states.  To say it’s unique and one of a kind would be more than just irony, it would be a travesty.  Plain and simple, this place has to be seen and felt, to be truly appreciated and believed.  For a few weeks in July and August each year when the sun is warm enough to dissipate the fog, ‘old stock' Quebecers frolic along some of its warmer sandy shores.  Seven-year-old Robert Lafleur is playing on the beach.  He is building little dams and rivers in the sand under the watchful eye of his grandfather.  In the distance is the family's large stately summer home where they are vacationing.

Grandfather, the water is coming in again.

That's high tide Robert.  It happens twice a day.

It will destroy everything, Robert said with tear filled eyes

No, but it will rearrange the components back to their original form. Robert’s grandfather flashed a knowing smile.

And tomorrow I will rearrange them back again.  Only this time they will be bigger, better and stronger, Robert said so confidently his grandfather believed him.

This is a fact as sure as the sun will rise again, the old man spoke with pride and conviction.

They will be a little bigger, a lot better, and much stronger.  You will see grandfather.

I'm sure I will.  So it's official then.  You will shed no more tears today over the destruction of the changing tides.  Robert's grandfather placed a loving arm around the little boy's shoulders.

I am too old to cry over that which I cannot control.  Together they slowly made their way toward the house on the horizon.

Those are wise words for one so young. The old man smiled and then laughed.

I wish I could control the tides, Robert whispered bubbling with youthful excitement.

Dear boy, if you could control the tides.  Then you could harness the power of the oceans; which means, you could light up the world. Robert’s grandfather had a loving look on his face. 

He adored his grandson.  He meant everything to him and was most likely the reason he was still alive today.  The same day his loving wife of forty-five years Rose Marie passed away, his grandson was born.  He could have easily wallowed in his grief, given up hope of what the future held for him, and fallen into a life of depression and despair.  Instead, God blessed him with a grandson.  God had breathed new life into an old tired man who just wanted to lie down and die.  God had kicked him in the ass and let him know that there was still a whole lot more of life he had yet to discover.  A gleam appeared in young Robert's eyes unlike any other his grandfather had ever witnessed before.  A look that said this seven-year-old boy did understand.  They walked back up to the house never once looking back at the ‘high tide', which was washing away the little dams and rivers that Robert had spent the day creating.

TWO

HUDSON BAY, QUEBEC 2017

The helicopter hovered over the Hudson Bay Inlet and then slowly made its way inland.  Inside the Agusta 139, the pilot and two Project H.O.P.E. engineers closely surveyed the surrounding area.  On the ground, Grand Chief Soaring Eagle shook his fist skyward as the noise from the helicopter made a small herd of caribou scatter dazed and confused into the rapidly depleting underbrush.  The pilot was the first to spot the large tree trunk that was lodged in the main mechanism of the channel duct, which had caused the man-made conduit to malfunction.  The helicopter hovered over the damage the huge tree had created.  By its positioning, it was obvious to them that it was wedged into place.  As the helicopter swooped down for a closer look, there was a human figure hiding in the woods that none of them saw. 

How many times are we going to have to undo what these ignorant savages persist on doing?  One of the project engineers said.

What I want to know is how long are we going to tolerate these deliberate acts of vandalism?  The other project engineer said.

The words were barely out of their mouths when a large caliber round hit the fuselage of the helicopter, and seconds later, all that was left was a fireball that lit up the northern sky.

THREE

At a remote police outpost nearby later that same day.  A visibly agitated Captain Ronald Rickard of the R.C.M.P. was holding court with a handful of print and TV reporters on the steps of the porch, which lead to his office inside the eight hundred square foot round log structure, which served as official police headquarters for an eight hundred square mile area.

No.  We do not have a suspect in custody at this time, and I am not at liberty to reveal any leads we might have if we have any, he said putting emphasis on the ‘if’.

Mark Bennett carefully maneuvered his way to the front of the line with his cameraman Willie close behind him.  He stuck his microphone close to the captain's face.  What about the weapon used to shoot down the helicopter?  Have you identified it yet?

No, we haven't.  Now you know all I know.  That will be all for now, the captain said turning his back on the crowd and proceeding to the safety of his office.

So captain you're confirming then that it was not an FIM-43 redeye ground to air missile that brought the Chopper down?  Mark Bennett had struck a nerve with his remark and the captain suddenly turned to face the reporters with an irksome look on his face, which quickly turned to a glare of disgust.  An amateur Mark thought to himself.  No matter what the captain said next, didn’t matter.  The fact that he didn’t walk straight into his office but rather chose to turn around and respond to his remark told him everything he needed to know.

That is not what I said, Captain Rickard alleged gritting his teeth. It was obvious that he wasn’t comfortable dealing with nosy reporters

But you won’t deny that it wasn't an FIM-43 Redeye or similar device.  Will you captain?  Mark asked hoping he would catch the young captain in a lie.

No Mr. Archer.  I will not.  You and the others can speculate all you wish, but I don’t deal with uneducated guesswork, only facts. 

This time the captain spun on his heels and quickly retreated into the building and slammed the door behind him.  He was oblivious to the shouts from the rest of the reporters who continued to bark out questions and accusations for a full twenty seconds to a closed door, before jointly realizing that the captain wasn’t about to return. 

Well, I guess his silence confirms it, one of the print reporters said.  The TV journalists and their camera people quickly scurried to their telephones and the warmth and safety of their mobile studio satellite trucks. 

Mark Bennett and Wild Willie Larkin were busying themselves doing a quick edit on their ‘news piece' before beaming it back to the TV station in Montreal, where they worked.  They’d been sent up to Hudson's Bay to document and record all they could about everything surrounding the eventual grand opening of Project HOPE.  It was an assignment that Mark Bennett had wanted to be involved with from the very start, and it was not as some might suspect a ‘banishment assignment'.  Even at the best of times, it was always cold in the far northern regions of Quebec, but somehow its majestic natural beauty always had a way of making you feel warm.  They were almost finished their edit when they heard a persistent tapping at the side door of the truck.  Mark slid the door open and came face to face with a stern looking R.C.M.P. constable. 

The captain would like a word with you, Mr. Bennett.

I was counting on that, Mark said smiling.  He got out of the truck and motioned Willie to follow him.

No.  He stays here, the constable said firmly.  Bennett wasn’t that surprised with the request.  He was sure that what the captain had to say to him, were for his ears only.

Willie you finish the edit and send it off.  I'll be back in a few minutes.  If I'm not you call the cops, he said tongue in cheek.  Willie gave him thumbs up, and Mark was off.

He followed the constable up the steps and onto the porch.  The officer then knocked on the door and went inside leaving Mark cooling his heels outside.  A moment later, he returned and escorted Mark inside the Spartan-like office, and pointed to a chair that he should sit in while waiting for the captain.  The constable waited until Mark Bennett was seated before he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him and resuming his centurion like position on the porch outside.  Oh, this is classic.  Mark thought.  First, you summon the reporter whom ‘you' know, knows something, and then you leave him alone in a room to sweat it out a little, before making your grand authoritative entrance.  It never ceased to amaze Bennett how young military and police commanders responded to circumstances that they hadn’t been trained to deal with properly.  This kid was out of his league.  He’d probably been sent up here to handle normal situations that regularly occur, but certainly not a potential terrorist attack, resulting in the death of three men.

The captain entered the office from a back room and at first said nothing as he slowly circled the room as a predator would its prey.  Mark did his very best to suppress the laugh that was bubbling inside him and threatening to burst out.

"Mr. Bennett, I will be direct and to the point, as I believe you will also be.  I believe you may have