J. Curtis - Calexit - The Anthology

Everyone nodded and a few looked bored. “This is this year, or is what the Colorado really wants to do to us this year, with the help of the Gila and Green and a few other friends.” He drew a second curve, with a much higher and wider peak. “This is what we, meaning the hydrology and dam-management people, hope will happen. We’ve got three-and-a-half times average snowpack at least, since we don’t know what exactly the depths are across the Cali border, and it is still raining and snowing.” He drew a saw-tooth, with a very sharp initial peak and steeper decline below the first two curves. “This is what the people downstream don’t want, and what the dam managers sure as hell don’t want.”

“As I recall, no one engineered the big boys for over-the-top flows,” Pat “the Ranger,” the Wildlife Department liaison said, running a finger under his nose.

“Or to operate with the spillways ripped out and new side-channels created.” Dominic straightened up. “Ms. Villanueva and the Cali Water Board want option one. We will probably have to go with option two, and start releases a little early just so we don’t overload the diversion dams.”

Domingo “Frio” Gavrijlla made a rude sound. “Those of us in the Central Arizona Project appreciate your concern. Even though we’re not taking much this year.”

“What, no surfing the irrigation canals?” Rick teased, nudging the dour liaison from Arizona’s largest irrigation operation. Frio had relatives on the Cali side of the line, some of them decent people, or so Dominic seemed to recall.

“We’re already fishing for whales. I swear someone called and reported seeing a shark on one of the Gila-River cross-overs last week, and they sounded sober.” He gathered his own papers and straightened them with a frustrated tap on the table. “It may be too wet for the cotton this year, and we’ve lost some of the produce already. One more year like the last two and I’m going to stop thinking that radio preacher with the giant boat is crazy.”

“You and me both,” Dominic said. “It’s like the 1920s all over again, in terms of hydrology.”

Kira Nguyn asked, honest puzzlement on her face, “So everyone gets their full allocation?”

Frio nodded. “Everyone, upper basin and lower basin. Top off the reservoirs, shower for an hour or until the hot water runs out, grow rice in Utah, whatever floats your boat.”

The others groaned or rolled their eyes. Nguyn winced. “Right. On that note, the conference is over. Go get some work done.”

Dominic and Frio managed not to snort at someone from the federal government encouraging productivity. On the other hand, when the Bureau fouled up or goofed off, people tended to die in headline-making ways.

That evening Dominic’s house phone rang. The caller ID showed it as a call from a very fancy hotel in Singapore, and Dominic shook his head. What was Greenie up to now? “I’ll get it, dear,” he told Carla. “I think it’s Raj calling about the conference paper.”

“OK.” She stopped washing dishes for a moment, head turned toward the living room as he headed for his ’office.’ Carla leaned back, trying to peer around the door. “Tony, Maria, what are you doing?” When no answer followed, she asked, “Dear could you check on them? It’s too quiet in there.”

Dominic detoured through the living room. Both kids were working on coloring books and not attempting to color each other. He waved and kept going to the modified walk-in closet that held his tiny home work-space. He caught the phone just before the machine did. “Runningwater Hydrologic Services, how may I help you?”

“Mr. Waters, this is Mr. Babbage. I need confirmation on some locations for our irrigation and reclamation contract.”

Dominic’s heart rate surged as he heard the hacker McDavitt on the line, but at least he was maintaining some semblance of security. He made himself take a deep breath, sit down at the desk, and get out a small write-erase board and marker, along with a book listing all the facilities with information about them. “Certainly. Just to confirm, this is the Calexico program contract?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Thank you.” He rotated in his seat so he could see the wall map with all the dams and take-offs on the Colorado and its main tributaries. “Go ahead with the locations, please.”

‘Mr. Babbage’ recited a set of lat-long coordinates. Dominic noted them down, then thumbed through the book’s reverse-location index to find what was where. The first one was the Imperial diversion structure. The second was a smaller upstream diversion. “I have a third one, but it might not be as suitable.” Dominic heard doubt in the hacker’s voice, and wondered what he meant.

“Let’s see what it is and we can decide. It may impinge in at least one of these.”

Dominic’s eyes bulged when he saw the third set of coordinates. Parker Dam? Babbage had found a way into the diversion controllers at Parker Dam? They couldn’t— That was supposed to have been firewalled so tightly even Old Scratch couldn’t get in or out. “I’m afraid the third location’s not really suitable for the irrigation idea, since it is already taken by a main-stream dam and most of the surrounding terrain is quite rugged. Or is this the possible salt-remediation site that we’ve discussed?” In plain English, was this really what Babbage had in mind? Because if they could open it as a flood flow came through, it might take out the two downstream diversions on its own. It would also take out Yuba City and a lot of other things as well. But if it hurt Cali, or more importantly, the LHdT, he’d take the chance. And Yuba City was two-thirds empty already.

“Yes, it is the possible salt-remediation site.” Dominic heard relief and excitement both in Babbage’s voice.

“It certainly would have more effect there than downstream, assuming your client was not concerned with re-concentration due to evaporation.”

“Hmm. I’ll ask him. But the other two would be feasible?”

“Certainly. You will have to confirm water availability, of course. I believe Kewitt, Richards, and Crocker now has international water lawyers on staff who are certified for the U.S. and Cali both.” That firm probably did, since money was involved.

The voice at the other end calmed down. “Very good. Thank you, and I will call back when I have more details as to exactly what my client has in mind.”

“Certainly, and thank you for calling. I’d rather sort things out now than in the field.”

“I quite agree, Mr. Waters. The less ground-truthing required, the happier I’ll be.”

After he terminated the call, Andy stood up, stretched left and right, and twisted at the middle. Something went pop and that nasty catch he’d had since the climbing accident let go. “Aahh. Much better.” Even though he worked for the Bureau, Waters wasn’t a bad guy.

Andy knew Waters wasn’t his contact’s name, but it was safer to use at least two layers of falsification. The feebs had infested EarthFirst! because people got careless, and he really did not want his plan for restoring the Colorado River estuary ruined by some fool who thought they knew rivers from rivets. Underestimating the Cali Water Board’s computer and other security people probably wasn’t too smart, but shit. They’d let the MWD have full access to everything, including operational files? Really? Andy glanced at the clock and checked once more that the wireless was turned off and the computers powered down.

The landlady had been whining about electricity costs again. She ought to have put in a wind turbine and solar when it was still easy. The engineering part of his mind reminded Andy about what happened when solar panels burned, like that massive apartment fire just before the Calexit. He laced his sneakers, pulled his satchel over his shoulder and wrestled his town-bike quietly down the stairs. The air felt drier than it had for the past few weeks, so maybe they were getting to the end of the spring rains. His boss complained that she was starting to feel moldy. Hey, if Mother Nature wanted to mess with humans, that was her privilege.