Free The Prophet's Ladder by Jonathan Williams Page A

business model obsolete, Todd thought. Every spaceport, every commercial satellite launching venture would either have to step up and build their own elevator or figure out some other way to drastically reduce the cost per kilogram of shipping things into orbit, or else….
    And Al-Hatem and, by proximity, the UAE would be at the center of it all. The Arab-speaking world would be at the forefront of technological innovation and progress. It would blow every American’s mind , that’s for sure. Todd considered all the hatred and vitriol he had observed in the U.S. immediately following the horrific tragedy of 9/11 and during the invasion and occupation of Iraq and Afghanistan. Misspent and misdirected rage had destroyed Arab-Americans’ homes and businesses, had driven paranoia levels and the U.S. security state’s overreach to an all-time high. Was the Arab world and, by extension, the rest of the planet ready for such a shift in perception? Todd wasn’t sure. I suppose Al-Hatem Aerospace has to succeed first. The company’s rocket launch he had witnessed previously was impressive, but it was in part both a cover for the corporation's true mission and also a fallback plan, were the elevator not to function as designed.
    Todd had been briefed on how he and his fellow expat co-workers were to interact with host country nationals. Many UAE citizens were Wahabists, a conservative sect of Sunni Islam, and some—though not all—wouldn’t approve of their work or even their living in the country. All that besides, their work was to be considered classified to the highest degree. Each Al-Hatem employee working on his team had had his or her background checked and vetted thoroughly before being granted clearance to work on the Solifuges project, and his team wasn’t even working with the top secret engineering teams. They were based in another compound where the elevator car, the tether, and its launch mechanism were being designed and constructed.
    Perhaps they’re isolating us, each team, so that we won’t know anything comprehensively should our work be compromised? It was a sobering thought. He hated all this black ops industrial espionage malarkey whenever it came up.  Any corporate bureaucracy was difficult enough to navigate without there being trade secrets involved. Still, he could understand why this work in particular must remain hidden from the public eye, especially here in the UAE.
    Fifty minutes and a bottle of water later, Todd and Anne were strolling through the park Al-Hatem aerospace had built for its employees in the center of their planned community. It was built around an old oasis: date palms stretched upwards, their tanned, lanky trunks curving ever so slightly eastward against the prevailing desert winds. Each tree was topped with a busy mop of dates and fronds. It was a brightly lit evening, with the moon almost full, its glassy white features starkly visible to those terrestrial observers. Even so, solar powered streetlights lit the path ahead of them. The paved pathway they followed formed a circular loop around the oasis that fed back onto itself, a veritable Oroboros. Other couples, families, and young teenagers strolled in the park or sat by the water’s edge on the green grass, skipping stones or laughing heartily. Many of the women wore the hijab covering out of respect for the indigenous culture, as Anne did. Others did not, some westerners even opting for shorts or tank tops.
    “So, how did it go today?” Anne inquired. Her face seemed more distinct in the moonlight, framed by cloth and not her usual shoulder-length auburn hair.
    “Pretty well. I think the team is really starting to cohere. The language barrier thing wasn’t really an issue to begin with. I think it was just folks acclimating to the diversity of accents in the room,” Todd replied, swallowing a pinch of sunflower seeds from his hand.
    “That’s great.”
    “Yeah. And the Solifuge is really a fun project. The