Dry Spell (Part 3)

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I honestly hadn’t even thought about it. Perhaps she was on to something. The signs were always in front of us, but no one thought to look at it differently until it was so severe that the real underlying issue came to light. Okay, so now I feel that this must be true. What to do?

“What are you planning on doing about it?” I asked her.

“What? Me? Oh, nothing really, I study history. I don’t think there really is anything I can do to help or contribute. Perhaps I’ll just continue doing everything I do the same as I have before.” She gave a weak smile as she stated this.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s all we can do.” I reciprocated, “I guess we can leave it up to the better minds out there that are already working on the problem and hope.” But deep down I knew that I wouldn’t be satisfied with just rolling over and letting my life be decided by men in lab coats I didn’t know. Something inside of me was pushing me, no, reassuring me that I could unlock the solution to our problem. I don’t know why, but I’m sure it would make sense eventually. My first order of business was to learn as much about water and its impact in the environment as I could, so it was off to the library for me.

I guess it doesn’t really matter when or where, but all libraries seem to be the same place. Just stacks and stacks of books, a few elderly librarians hiding behind desks keeping to themselves, and some random patrons tucked away among the stacks. I’ve always loved the smell of a library, something about lots of old books wafting that papery smell. I don’t think I can really describe it completely, but anyone who has spent a few minutes in a good library will know what I mean.

I wasn’t sure where to start, so I found my way to the main circulation desk and waited patiently for a librarian to take notice of me. A rare gem came out from behind a large stack of books piled high on a desk. She looked to be in her late twenties, wore red acetate glasses with a cat-eye theme, stood six inches shorter than me, had dishwater blonde hair than framed her face well and went just past her shoulders. She looked expectantly at me.

“How may I help you?” her voice was soft, powerful, and entrancing. I found myself staring into her sky blue eyes.

“A book,” I said rather stupidly.

“Well this is a library,” she chuckled, “we have a lot of those around here. Any one in particular?”

“Oh, right!” I could feel myself blushing, “I need books on global warming, weather patterns, water tables.”

She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment as if she was appraising me. She held up one finger and rushed off back to her desk out of my sight. She returned wearing a blue knit cardigan. “Follow me, I think I know exactly what you need.”

-V-

Dry Spell (Part 2)

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He pulled off his glasses to absentmindedly clean them with the corner of his lab coat. “At the current rate of ‘devisoration,’ as we are calling it, lakes and rivers will be completely dry within two years. The oceans as deep as we believe them to be, will be dry within ten years. We have our top minds on the problem, but as of yet we have no solutions as to the cause or long-term effects. We are working night and day to come up with a good solution. We will let the public know as soon as any progress is made. For now all we can say is try to conserve water as best you can.”

The room erupted into a cacophony of reporters’ questions and outbursts. The presidential seal appeared on the screen, and then the world fell silent for a short time. What was going to happen now? Would we be living in a strange new land, were lawlessness takes over? The only thing I was sure of, things were about to get real abnormal around here.

I rushed to my front door and ripped it open, plunged outside and stared up into the sky. Nothing looked different: clouds, airplanes, the sun; all was in order and normal. I reclaimed the feeling that this was all just a silly hoax. Someone was having fun at my expense.

“Do you believe it?” A voice drifted over to me from the apartment next door. “I mean, can it really be true? Are we finally doomed?” The questioning voice emanated from my neighbor, Tia Capucine, a late twenty-something bombshell of a girl. She was perhaps five foot four inches tall, had chestnut brown hair, which was pulled back into a tight ponytail that just went past her shoulders in length. Her skin was a creamy dark olive and her eyes were a deep brown and had energy emitting from them like burning embers.

I have had a thing for this girl ever since she moved in two years ago. She was a graduate student studying history; specifically ancient Mesopotamia sparked great interest in her. She seemed to be very intrigued by the Fertile Crescent. I can’t say I much cared for history, but for her I’m sure I could learn volumes on the subject.

“I’m not sure what to believe right now,” I responded, “I mean, it’s sort of unbelievable. One day they just decide to drop an information bomb on us of this magnitude? No, I’m pretty sure someone is having a good laugh, much like Orson Welles infamous War of the Worlds radio broadcast.” I smiled reassuringly at her, but she looked pensive nonetheless.

“I wonder,” she said, pondering the question, “I called a few people at the university in the chemistry and biology departments that I have made friends with. I think they have seen data that corroborates the story.”

“You’re putting me on.” I jovially answered.

“Not at all,” she said seriously, “I’m pretty sure these guys wouldn’t lie to me. And think about it; what if all this ‘global warming’ hype was really us misunderstanding the intrinsic issue, just like we need water to sweat out to stay cool, so does the earth?”

-V-

Read Part 3

Dry Spell (Part 1)

“NEWSFLASH!!! An important announcement will be broadcast on all stations in ten minutes…” it read across the bottom of the screen on my television set. I wasn’t paying too much attention until a loud beep started coming from the set. Whatever it was, it was not a test. So I sat patiently, waiting. The screen cleared and I was looking at the white house backdrop. Oh no, I thought to myself, we were finally in a full-scale war with one of the many countries our government has wronged along the way. Or possibly some fanatical group was crazily trying to make a name for themselves, or any other number of insane plots that would lead us down yet another abyss for our economy and lifestyle.

I waited the longest five minutes ever sitting there staring at the flags slowly saunter in the background. It was the only movement on the screen, very eerie. Finally the President walked into frame and up to the podium. I could feel the tension in the pressroom permeate into my living room.

“My fellow Americans, and people of the world, it is with great urgency that I must make this speech. Some people may have noticed the recent changes. It is on a very small scale at the moment, but I have been informed it will reach global proportions very soon.” He paused to take a drink of water; one could see a visible quiver in his arm as he did so. “Our top scientists and those from around the world have confirmed that our water table is reversing itself. Simply put, rain is going in reverse. I cannot explain the reach or implications of this information, so I will turn the podium over to a top American scientist who can explain further. Dr. Schmeckle, if you please.”

My jaw dropped. I ran over to the calendar that sits on my desk in the office. It was certainly not April first, and this was not simply an elaborate joke. I could not hear any laughing though my television from the pressroom either. This was real. I started getting text messages, left and right, from friends, obviously news was travelling fast.

Dr. Schmeckle eased onto the platform soundlessly. He was improbably old looking, but you could see a youthful fire in his impossibly blue eyes. He wore a traditional empowering white lab coat, but lacked all the other traditional mad scientist accoutrements. I was honestly hoping for rubber gloves or welding goggles; the best I was going to get were a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that he wore. His hair was slicked back with copious amounts of gel and was as white as freshly fallen snow.

“As you have already heard the President say,” His voice was low and hearty, “The water tables are reversing. In essence, clouds are no longer depositing rain on the earth, but rather sucking up water like a sponge, and then it is disappearing, we’re not sure how.”

-V-

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