The Tempest by A.J. Scudiere (story read aloud .txt) 📗

was clenching his hands. At the front of the tent, Radnor was talking, waving his own hands in front of a projection screen showing a map of the entire US. It seemed most of the audience—the Helio Systems team—was sitting rapt in their white folding chairs, trying to catch up.

“We ran the data before we started the project,” Radnor said, waving his hands across the whole of the map. “And we picked this site. However, we've been running the data again. With the latest addition, we've noticed a big change. Dr. Murawasa?” He motioned to where she stood at the side and the manager stepped readily into place in front of the screen.

Not just a manager, Cage thought as Ragnar introduced her. That was quickly followed by, So she'd known. Not just that there was a meeting but specifically what the meeting was going to be about.

The team had been told not to take notes, but having something to do would have kept him from fidgeting. He tapped his toe in a steady rhythm to release part of his energy and clenched his fingers tighter together.

Next to him, he felt more than saw Joule’s eyes flick his direction, as if to ask, What is this?

The project had already had a major setback before they and the other newbies had arrived on the scene. Was this going to be another catastrophe?

Stepping forward, Chithra—apparently Doctor Murasawa—pointed at the map. It seemed she was a meteorological data analyst. Once again, he wondered why he and his sister had been hired, fresh out of school.

Up until they’d arrived on site the first day, he’d foolishly believed there would be workers here as well—people hired to move things around and install everything. And, when he was honest, he’d believed he would have at least some status in the hierarchy. But apparently, no, they were the lowest rung of this ladder.

He pushed his attention back to where Dr. Murasawa was pointing at several specific points on the map and expecting her captive audience to follow. “We were looking at tornadoes first, because that is what this section of Alabama—” she ran her hand up the middle of the state, “—is known for.”

Waving her hand along another section running up through Tennessee and Kentucky, she added, “I think most of you know, but just in case, this area north of us is well-known for strip mining. When we head toward the Virginia and West Virginia area, we see more energy from more standard coal mining scenarios. Either way, we're looking at fossil fuels. Our main goal is to come in, create an alternate system, and maybe make some systemic nudges that change the culture toward becoming more fossil-free.”

Cage involuntarily tipped his head toward his sister and saw that she'd done the same. The protesters out front indicated the last part was not going as smoothly as intended.

But Murasawa wasn’t dwelling on that. “This section of the country does have a tornado issue, and we've been building to suit that. However, we're now looking at other data. Because the area isn’t known for flooding—despite having heavy rainstorms—we’d run the calculations and when they came out as minimal risk, we didn’t worry. Much of the Alabama area has a wonderful watershed system…” The screen changed to a brightly colored topographical map, but Cage’s mind was flashing other thoughts.

Oh shit, he thought, remembering what Sarah had said about the creeks rising. As he watched, the map expanded again, shifting the focus from Alabama to the entire continent of North America.

“The rest of the world aside, we've seen massive flooding situations here—” She pointed to New Orleans. “Here.” She pointed to Houston. “And here.”

All heavily localized to the south, Cage thought.

“Miami, New Orleans, mostly coastal towns,” she said, even as he thought it. “And those places were prepared for flooding. It’s not new, though recent floods have been reaching new heights. Now, we add in more recent years. We've seen too many ‘hundred-year’ floods. Nashville had one in the late aughts.” She pointed to the middle of Tennessee. “The entire Southeast US suffered extensive flooding in ninety-eight. And the Palo Alto area had one just under four years ago.” She moved her hand across the entire map to the other side of the country as Cage felt his stomach clench. Joule’s fingers slipped in between his, grasping his hand. They had been there.

“In recent years, the spring flood outlooks don’t hit the Alabama area.” The map changed again, showing water flow and bright purple flood warning areas far to the north. “But we have seen ‘hundred-year floods’ hitting in record numbers, and flood levels of thirty-plus feet. These tend to happen because of mountain runoff. It wasn't so much the quantity of rainfall in one area—though that is problematic—but that pooling and watershed runoff created fast-moving water and rising flood lines. If we go back and look at Texas, we can see that their scenario had that as well.”

The entire team was now turning heads and looking at each other. They weren’t supposed to be in a flood zone. Wasn’t that the whole point? They were in Nowhere, Alabama for a number of reasons. Cheap land and open space was important, but lack of catastrophic natural disasters was crucial. And after the number of disasters they’d seen, that had been a huge pull for Cage and his sister.

“But what does all this mean?” Dr. Murasawa was smart enough to openly ask the question they were all thinking. “Two things. One—as we look at the topography of this area, we should be relatively okay.”

She moved her hand around showing the map that had switched back to a topo map of the state. The colors indicated high ground and low points, and this time, Cage was trying to follow the key and make sure he was interpreting it correctly. Joule moved her hand away from his to point. Though their area was higher ground for Alabama, it was lower than the surrounding areas.

“The