Broken Ice
Ice that was thousands of years old was finally seeing sunlight. Hundreds of feet high, the face of the glacier stood fragile and weak in the grips of a particularly warm winter. It was now exposed to a new atmosphere; an atmosphere that was markedly different than the one it saw as it formed in the last ice age. It was a warmer, thicker atmosphere that contained more carbon dioxide, artificial pollutants, and soot from far off wildfires.
As an autonomous UNIRO drone flew overhead, it could see cracks forming and chunks of ice the size of cars beginning to fall into the cool teal waters below. To the scientists watching the drone's footage at a nearby research camp it was clear what was about to happen, and disturbing. Within minutes millions of pounds of ice had disintegrated into the sea, pushing the edge of the glacier back by over a mile.
The sound of event, called a glacial calving, was the sound of death. It signified that something was wrong, that something was very sick. It signified a system that was failing. After decades of ignoring this plea for help, the world was finally starting to listen as rising seas drowned any doubt and images like those the drone was recording incurred fearful awe.
Sensors placed ahead of the collapsing glacier began registering a small tsunami moving swiftly through the fjord that called the glacier home as millions of tons of water moved out of its way.
The camp's lead scientist looked over a map of the fjord and saw that there was a small fishing village at its mouth. One of the monitors on his desk began flashing red. A computer simulation showed that the tsunami would reach the village in under three minutes as a twelve-foot high wave. He knew no building in the village would be able to survive it and that there would be no warning.
Finding the team's emergency satellite phone, he ran out of the research camps monitoring room, dialing it frantically.
"Base Tranquility," he said as he put it to his ear, "this is Research Site Echo. We have a problem!"