Global Warming

332 Global Warming He looks up from his magazine at the beach ball globe floating near the edge of the pool. The familiar pink and blue and yellow continents painted across turquoise seas look like harmless flowers; maybe if he gets inside the globe he can figure out what’s wrong by studying the reverse sides of the cheerful landmasses. But he has to be quick before his kids start batting the ball around, so he squeezes through the plug at the top, falling down to the bottom and sprawling across the backside of the South Pole next to a dead fly. How did the fly get in here? He gets to his feet, looking up. From inside the globe, the topographies appear as flat, featureless clouds. It’s hard to breathe, and when he starts climbing up the sticky plastic sides toward Australia, he’s soon covered in sweat. It makes no difference whether he crosses an ocean or a country, there’s no breeze, no mountains, no fish or trees, only the happy whoop of distant children and the insistent hiss of air leaking from the top. maura stanton ...