short story

There was no water cooler in the Pasadena office. It had gone, along with a number of other staff perks, after the Governor’s last budget cut. Most people in the office bought bottles of mineral water from the staff restaurant. It was expensive but it was cold. Dave Parker drained the bottle he was holding and thought about throwing the empty away. But Dave was from Yorkshire in England where they didn’t like wasting their money. He filled his bottle up from the faucet in the staff restaurant, although he would have referred to it as a tap, and wandered back to his office. He sat at his desk and looked again at the figures in front of him. They simply didn’t make sense. He ran the simulation one more time and got the same result. He drank deeply from his bottle and picked up the phone.
      ‘Tony. Dave here. I’ve got a problem with some figures. Can you come and take a look?’
      In the office in the floor above, Tony DeMarco, Technical Director of the West Coast Contingency Bureau, smoothed his thinning hair and shook his head.
      ‘Not right now, Dave. Senator Hatchett’s invited a couple of boffins from the President’s Fossil Fuel Think Tank into town. The projected oil shortage figures are getting them all worked up. I’ve got to take them out to lunch and schmooze them a bit. I can see you when I get back.’
      Dave nodded and put the phone down. It was eleven o’clock now. A couple of hours wouldn’t hurt him. In fact, it was closer to four pm when his boss returned looking flushed and smelling strongly of alcohol. ‘Sorry, Dave. But the oil lobby is top of the tree at the minute. The Governor has made it crystal that oil is priority Numero Uno. I’m under instruction to give them everything they want.’
     DeMarco loosened his tie and sank gratefully into a chair. ‘So what’s up here?’
      Dave handed a print-off across the desk.
      ‘It’s the figures from the Aquifer Sensors. I’ve run them three times and there’s a problem. The underground water readings don’t make sense.’
      ‘It should be straightforward. Even with the usage restrictions in place, the official figure is that it’ll be at least thirty two years until California has a serious problem with its water supply.’ DeMarco turned away and discretely hid a belch.
      ‘Are we still quoting that?’
      ‘What?’
      ‘That thirty-two years crap.’
      ‘Why not?’
      ‘But that was the projection you told me when I joined the team.’
      ‘Well?’
      ‘I’ve been here five years, Tony. The figure hasn’t changed.’
      ‘It does rain, you know, Dave, even in Southern California.’
      ‘Well, according to the readings I’m getting here that figure is way too high. We could be looking at a really serious water shortage.’ He looked directly at his boss. ‘I think you need to raise this at the Management Board.’
     DeMarco ran a tired hand over his face. ‘I’ll see, Dave, but all they can focus on is the oil shortage at the moment. Can you get me some more definite figures?’
      ‘I can if I can get the sensors replaced and then call Jenny in to look at the software.’
      ‘You can indent for new sensors, but Jenny’s going to be working on the oil projections for the next few weeks. Speak to her when the new sensors have been installed. OK. I’ll leave it with you.’ DeMarco swayed slightly and then headed out.
      Dave sighed, but he knew enough than to challenge a direct order. He walked to the staff restaurant to fill his water bottle and then headed for the stationery cupboard to find a requisition pad.
      A month passed; then two. Dave had run his simulations fifty times over. He was still getting the same results. Eventually Dave finally received what he was waiting for; an internal envelope in the distinctive blue colour of the Procurement Department. He opened it hurriedly, eager to see the details of his new sensors. But instead, he found his original requisition stamped “REQUEST DENIED” and a covering note referring him to the Procurement Helpline. Annoyed, he picked up the note and marched into DeMarco’s office.
      ‘What’s going on, Tony?’
      DeMarco briefly scanned the note. ‘Sorry, Dave. It’s the budget cuts. The Presidential Think Tank has reported that OPEC looks likely to cut production before the end of the month. All available funds are being diverted to oil-related projects like small engine developments, fuel cell technology; that sort of thing.’
      ‘Tony, we can’t ignore this. It’s serious.’
      ‘It’s not as serious as not being able to put gas in your car. California lives and dies by the automobile. I told you, oil is the Governor’s number one priority.’
      ‘But this is important, Tony. If these figures are right then we’re facing a serious water shortage.’
      ‘But they’re not right are they, Dave?’ DeMarco leaned forward and for a moment he looked as dangerous as his boxing namesake. ‘You’ve already said that the sensors must be faulty; that’s why you needed new ones. And there must be a problem with the software or you wouldn’t want Jenny to look at it.’
      Dave paused, taken aback at this unfair appraisal. It took him a while to process its implications. Eventually realisation dawned.
      ‘You didn’t raise the figures with the Management Board, did you?’
      DeMarco remained silent.
      ‘Tony, tell me the truth.’
      DeMarco’s voice softened slightly. ‘Listen, Dave, if I raise this without any concrete evidence, I’m going to get hounded out of the building. If it was about oil reserves, then the Board would be all over it. But everybody knows we’ve got enough water to last thirty-two years. We’ve got time to worry about that in the future. But oil is today’s problem.’
      ‘But if these figures are right this is a bigger problem.’
      ‘If, Dave. If. I need more than if to talk to the Management Board.’
      ‘But how can I get you more if you won’t let me get new sensors or check the software?’ Dave’s voice was nearly a shout.
      DeMarco paused. He didn’t think for a moment there was anything in what Dave said, but he was enough of a politician to make sure that if there was anything, it wouldn’t find its way back to his door.
      ‘OK. Look, Dave, I authorised your request for new sensors, right? It’s not my fault that the Governor’s budget cuts overruled me. You have authority to speak to Jenny about the software. I’ll get a memo sent out to confirm it, OK?’
      Dave nodded curtly and left the room. DeMarco called his secretary and dictated the memo to Parker with a copy to Jenny. He also dictated a memo to the Head of Procurement complaining, in the mildest possible terms about the cancellation of the sensors purchase. He then dictated a final note to the Chair of the Management Board saying that while he fully understood the current focus on oil reserves, it was his duty to ensure that the office looked at all natural resources and that it might be prudent to consider the water situation at the next scheduled meeting. Happy that his back was covered, he told his secretary to hold all calls. He had an important lunch meeting with a company looking to develop shale oil deposits in Kern County.
      Jenny Christianson was setting up to leave her desk when Dave arrived. She was petite with delicate features and long blonde hair she owed to her Scandinavian ancestors. She also possessed a razor sharp mind and was one of the most respected programmers in the building.
      ‘Got a job for you, Jenny,’ said Dave.
      Jenny put her laptop carefully away. ‘Bully for you. First of next month I’ll be right on it.’
      ‘No, Jen. This is urgent. Specially authorised by Tony DeMarco. You’ll get a memo from him later today.’
      ‘No I won’t. I’m out of the office as from right now.’
      ‘What?’
      ‘I’m on special duties for the next month. Seconded to the LA office. Some oil reserve work.’ She blew him a kiss. ‘But when I get back, you’re first in the queue.’ She picked up her laptop bag and left the office.
      Disconsolately Dave put his water bottle to his mouth. It was empty. He headed to the staff restaurant to refill it.
      The next eight weeks were busy for Dave. DeMarco’s memo to Procurement had surprisingly proved effective and Dave had been given permission to buy two new sensors. It was a far cry from the seventeen he needed, but at least it was something. He got them installed and had the installation team check the existing sensors. They were all working perfectly. He then ran the software over and over again. His predictions remained the same.
      Jenny’s secondment overran, as they almost always did. But on her arrival, she kept her word and showed up in Dave’s office. Dave liked working with Jenny because she was meticulous. She went through his software probing for faults and omission. Then she counter-checked by writing a new program of her own. It took her two weeks to complete her work.
     When she came to see Dave, she was ashen faced.
      ‘It’s right, Dave.’
      ‘What is?’
      ‘Your forecast. It’s correct.’
      ‘But that means…’
      ‘I know.’
     Dave raised his water bottle to his lips. It was empty. He stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. In a sort of trance, Dave led Jenny to DeMarco’s office.
      DeMarco’s secretary smiled up at them.
      ‘Hi, I’m afraid you can’t go in right now. Mr DeMarco is going through the latest oil reserve projections and he can’t be disturbed.’
      Dave ignored her and walked into his boss’ office.
      DeMarco didn’t even look up.
      ‘Not now, Dave. I’m busy.’
      ‘The figures are right, Tony.’
      ‘What?’
      ‘The Aquafer Sensors. The figures are right.’
     DeMarco put his papers down and breathed deeply. When he spoke, his voice had the strained patience of explaining something to a not very bright child. ‘They’re not right, Dave. If they were right, we’d be running out of water in the next few days. Your figures are wrong. We have thirty-two years’ water supply. Water is not our problem right now. Oil is our problem.’
      ‘They’re not wrong, Tony. The sensors have all been checked. They work fine.’
      ‘Then it’s your software, Dave. You said as much yourself.’
     Jenny moved forward. She was quaking inside, but she kept her voice even and professional. ‘The software is fine, Mr DeMarco. I’ve double checked everything. Dave’s figures are correct.’
     DeMarco opened his mouth just as his phone buzzed and his secretary’s voice sounded over the intercom.
      ‘Mr DeMarco, Chair of the Management Board on line one.’
     As DeMarco took the call, Dave became conscious of the empty bottle in his hand. As befitted DeMarco’s senior position, there was a sink in the corner of the office. Dave walked across and put his bottle on the sink and turned the faucet. There was a small trickle of water then the faucet gave a cough and a splutter. The flow of water stopped. Dave looked across the room. Both Jenny and DeMarco were staring at him open-mouthed. Then the lights on DeMarco’s phone system lit up like a Christmas tree.
     The next thirty-two years might be difficult, Dave thought to himself absently, but at least they’d have enough oil.