It opens with a heat wave in Uttar Pradesh that kills twenty million people in a week, and the rest of the book is the world reacting. A UN agency is set up in Zurich to represent people who aren’t born yet, run by an Irish administrator with no real power, and Robinson spends four hundred pages on the unglamorous machinery of how it might actually get done — central banks, a carbon coin, glacier engineering, refugee law, rewilded corridors, and a violent wing nobody officially condones. He tells it in fragments: Minutes of meetings, eyewitness accounts, riddles told by an atom of carbon. It’s the most detailed optimistic future anybody has written.
The Ministry for the Future