by Larry LaVoie
The major was saying, “Approximately two months ago Dr. Bainbridge turned in a report to USGS predicting Yellowstone would erupt in the near future.”
Jason was still trying to figure out what was going on. Why did they hand out copies of his discarded thesis? Hadn’t they found out about the mistake in Bainbridge’s report? He had mentioned it to Sanders. He wondered what they would do when they found out Yellowstone could erupt any minute.
“We’ve put some data together for you to review. Dr. Trask. We have an alternate proposal to evacuation of the Yellowstone caldera.”
Jason glanced around. All eyes were fixed on him. “I hope you’re not attaching any credibility to my paper,” he said. “I was a young graduate student. Bainbridge said this paper was the biggest piece of science fiction he’d seen in a long time. You must know I rewrote the paper.”
Bradford cleared her throat and spoke up. “It’s true, but Bainbridge had no knowledge that the technology mentioned in your paper already existed. The material is classified. Under different circumstances we’d want to know how you knew about the technology. Right now we think we could apply the technology to a scenario like you postulated in your paper. Bainbridge should have known yesterday’s science fiction is today’s science.”
Jason shook his head. “It won’t work. Bainbridge was wrong about the timing of the eruption. There isn’t enough time.”
“We think it’s worth trying,” General Montgomery added.
“You’re not going to evacuate?” Jason asked.
“It’s futile,” the President said. “Can you tell me exactly when and how bad an eruption will be?”
“I was supposed to be meeting with radio stations today,” Jason said. “We should at least give the people a choice.”
The President scooted out of his chair and stood towering over Jason. “A choice, Dr. Trask? If the government backed up your statements it would create a nationwide panic. Where could we send several million people to safety? Evacuation is not an option and we are wasting valuable time if your latest assumptions are correct. You may continue, Major.”
Jason sunk low in his chair. Before this meeting he would have bet the administration didn’t give a damn about the people in the wake of a Yellowstone eruption. Now he wasn’t sure what to think. There simply wasn’t time to relieve the pressure inside the magma pool as he’d proposed in his rejected thesis. His thesis had speculated that forecasting an eruption several years in advance would be feasible. Today they had only a few weeks, maybe a month, what good was any of it?
The major was saying, “Given the knowledge we have about the magma chamber, the crust is thinnest at Le Hardy Rapids at the southern edge of the Sour Creek Dome.” She pointed to the area on a map display that miraculously dropped down from a black fixture near the ceiling.
Jason said, “What about the area around Norris Basin? It’s been moving at an alarming rate. It poses a larger threat.”
“As I was about to say,” she continued, “this isn’t the fastest rising area at this time, but with a crust depth of less than three miles it affords the best opportunity —”
“Pardon me, Major.” Jason was on his feet again. “It sounds like you’re going to try and tap into the magma pool.”
Major Bradford gave Jason a look; one like his mother had given him as a child when he was in trouble. She wasn’t used to being interrupted. “Page thirty-two, paragraph three, of your paper, Dr. Trask. It says in part, and I’m quoting from memory ... ‘a penetration into the magma pool by tunneling could be accomplished with a future generation of nuclear-powered subterrene boring machines as described in U.S. Patents issued in 1972 to the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission. Nuclear subterrenes operate by melting through the rock and soil providing a glass-lined tunnel and no muck to dispose of ...’ end quote.”
Suddenly it hit Jason. His eyes scanned the room. The cavernous room had walls of glass; had they been melted through a mountain using a nuclear subterrene? Jason was impressed. The major had quoted his paper verbatim. She knew his paper better than he did, and the machines he had researched long ago must exist.
“If you care to take your seat,” the major continued, “I’ll finish my presentation and then Dr. Trask, you’ll have an opportunity to comment.”
“Jason,” Jason called out. “You can call me Jason.” He flopped back in his chair and watched the rest of her presentation. Several times he bit his tongue to the point it hurt, forcing himself to keep quiet. Everything was wrong. They were treating his paper like it was science. He’d shit-canned the paper for crying out loud! The whole meeting was insane. Finally the major concluded with, “It’s your turn, Dr. Trask.”
Jason didn’t know where to start. He didn’t have any more ammunition. They were going to bore into the magma pools beneath Yellowstone in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure and there was nothing he could do about it, in fact he was the cause of this cockamamie idea. He stood and walked around to the side of the table where Major Bradford was standing. He had his paper rolled up into a tube and slapped his hand repeatedly. “This paper is a complete and utter work of fantasy. It was based on projections, not scientific fact. Do you have any idea what it would take to bore into a pool of magma that’s thirteen hundred degrees Celsius?”
The Major looked at the President. “Two thousand-three-hundred-seventy-two degrees F,” as if she knew what the President was thinking.
“That’s hot,” President Turner contributed to the discussion.
“Hot enough to melt steel. Titanium will burst into flame like a flashbulb at that temperature if it’s exposed to air. Anything and anyone you send toward that magma pool will be toast long before it breaches the crust.”
General Montgomery had remained quiet. Now he pushed away from the table and rose to his feet. “Dr. Trask, we all agree there is a good bit of theory and conjecture in your paper. After all you wrote it years before any of this was possible, but next to Bainbridge, you know Yellowstone better than anyone. You can help us determine the best place to bore. Without Dr. Bainbridge you’re the best we have and you certainly thought this was all possible at one time or you wouldn’t have written the paper.” He cocked his head and formed a straight line with his lips waiting for a reply.
Jason hit the table with his report. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. We’ve got a mountain that could blow up any minute and you’re planning on digging a tunnel based on a science fiction story I wrote while I was a kid in college? Either you’re all crazy or I am. I’m not planning on being anywhere in the Western United States when Yellowstone blows.”
President Turner stood and walked over and put his hand on Jason’s shoulder. He was as tall as Jason and had an infectious smile that had served him well in politics. “Jason, may I call you by your first name?”
Jason nodded, knowing full well he was about to be schmoozed.
Chapter 22
Jason felt like he’d been an easy target. The President hadn’t even use his best stuff, he thought as he sat down, agreeing in principle to hear them out. It was the general’s turn to launch an attack on him.
Montgomery tapped the table with a metal pointer. “Dr. Bainbridge spoke very highly of you. Said you were the brightest student he’d come across. He made you rewrite the report because he thought the scientific community wasn’t ready for it. You wouldn’t have been taken seriously. It would have ruined your career. And at the time, some of the projections you made were bordering on a breach of national security.”
“He told you that,” Jason said, not believing a word of it.
The general nodded and continued, “If the public knows Yellowstone will erupt and the full extent of the possible casualties, it will cripple the nation’s economy and put the security of the nation at risk. Major Bradford has verified your account of the impact of an eruption on the nation. We’ve expanded the data to determine its effect on National Security. With the country weakened and the economy devastated the natio
nal resources would be depleted trying to help the survivors. The United States would collapse as a world power. We would be hard-pressed to be able to defend against an aggressor who might take advantage of the situation. Quite frankly, Dr. Trask, if we don’t stop this from happening, there won’t be a United States any longer.”
Jason felt the sweat bead up on his forehead. At one time he’d believed whatever man could imagine they could accomplish. That was a tiny bit of wisdom his father had left with him. Unfortunately he had discovered his father was wrong. His father was no more than a coward who had abandoned his family. In the years since Jason had written the infamous paper he’d gained a lot of respect for the power and fury of Mother Nature. Milton Bainbridge had talked him into backing off his wild ideas and conducting himself as a scientist. So he had round-filed the paper never expecting to see it again. Now it was coming back to haunt him.
“Well, Dr. Trask, we need an answer,” the President said back in his authoritative mode. “Can the nation count on you?”
Jason raised his eyes not wanting to answer. His eyes met the President’s who removed his thin reading glasses and met his gaze. The most powerful man in the world wasn’t about to back off. Jason let out a long breath of impending resignation. “I’ll help if you will agree to at least evacuate the park. You can’t even fathom the forces locked up inside a super volcano.”
General Montgomery moved toward Jason. “You’re in no place to bargain.”
The President raised his hand, stopping the general. “Dr. Trask, we’re not here to judge the academic quality of your thesis. We need to know —— the nation needs to know, if we can stop Yellowstone from erupting, or at least reduce the impact of an eruption.”
Jason decided it was a losing battle, they had worn him down. “First of all, I didn’t say it could be stopped from erupting. My paper addressed a means of releasing the pressure slowly as it builds, like Kilauea in Hawaii. If we were to do that with Yellowstone at this point it could trigger an eruption. The entire park would become a wasteland of lava flows consuming everything for hundreds of square miles.” Jason walked to the screen with the satellite image of Yellowstone Park. “This area between the Grand Teton and the Rockies would become wasteland. Everything that lies within the caldera, most of the park would be covered by massive flows of lava hundreds of feet deep. It would take years to complete the project. We have at most a few weeks. What makes you think it’s even feasible?”
“I don’t like the alternative,” the President Turner said as if wishing would change the outcome. “If we sit back and wait, assuming you and Dr. Bainbridge are correct, we lose a lot more than a national park, or the state of Wyoming for that matter.”
“With all due respect, Sir,” Jason said. “You leave people in the path of the volcano —”
President Turner interrupted, coming around the table. “You let me deal with the people. Colonel Lansing and Colonel Harden are here to evaluate your proposal. You tell them what will be required and they’ll tell you if it can be done, understand?” The President excused himself. “General, you and your people know what to do.”
A driver wearing crisp fatigues and a black beret drove Major Bradford and Jason to the cafeteria. Jason’s eyes took in all he could see. They passed a tunnel marked with a small metal plaque, Command Center. He couldn’t help thinking Yellowstone might blow while he was here in relative safety while outside millions would die. He swallowed hard putting his hand to his throat.
“You okay, Dr. Trask?” Major Bradford asked.
Jason cleared his throat. Their voices seemed to be lost in the massive cavern. “Fine,” Jason managed. “Everything is solid rock.”
She didn’t comment.
It was a dust-free environment. Jason imagined someone following them, wiping the tire tracks from the shiny floor as they whisked along, but looking behind concluded the place was sterile, no tracks. A faint electrical hum, possibly a power station could be heard but it was impossible to tell from which direction the sound was coming. The entire complex was a disorienting experience. He couldn’t tell direction. The lack of features on the walls made size and distance difficult to judge. The lack of windows made his sense of time fade away.
They turned down another tunnel and parked in a wide area with yellow hash marks painted on the floor.
“Cafeteria,” the driver announced.
“I hope you’re hungry, Dr. Trask,” Bradford said. “General Montgomery insisted you sit with him over breakfast.
“Tell me about the general.” Jason said.
Bradford’s lips turned up in amusement. “You were introduced at the meeting.”
“I know, but you’re all Army Corps of Engineers. What’s Montgomery’s specialty.”
“Let’s say he’s the President’s man and leave it at that.”
That tells me a lot, Jason thought.
Montgomery, seated at a table in the back room of the cafeteria, looked up as they came through the metal door. The room was the first he’d seen that wasn’t the sterile glass sheen of the tunnels. They were surrounded by rich paneled walls, shiny tables, starched white cloth coverings, and china bearing the Presidential Seal.
“Dr. Trask,” Montgomery greeted, “have a seat. In the interest of saving time I’ve ordered for you.”
“Fine,” Jason said pulling out a chair across from the general. Bradford excused herself leaving the two of them alone.
Montgomery picked up a coffee urn and poured Jason a cup. “Sorry for the secrecy, but there are no provisions for bringing civilians into this facility. National Security demands we take appropriate precautions. Count yourself privileged. There are a number of congressmen and senators who have never been in this facility.”
There were those words again, National Security. Where would the nation’s security be with no civilians? If he was so privileged, were they going to ask him to keep his mouth shut or kill him to keep their secret? Jason nodded as if he understood what all the fuss was about. He had decided to cooperate. At this point he would do anything to get out. He had to warn the people of the impending doom.
A waiter poured water for Jason. Montgomery waved his hand and they were alone again. When the room was empty Montgomery said, “The President asked me to meet privately with you and get a better assessment of the situation. There are a number of advisors who think we should abandon the idea of trying to arrest the volcano. Mind you, I’m neutral at this point.”
Jason doubted the general was neutral on anything. He set his cup in the saucer and leaned forward. “I thought I was pretty clear in our meeting with the President. What is it you don’t understand?”
The general nodded at the door behind Jason and an enlisted man came in with a tray. He placed a platter on the table filled with fresh fruit, cantaloupe, grapes, tangerine wedges and bananas.
“Help yourself,” Montgomery said, “bacon, eggs and hash browns are coming. All American breakfast,” he said proudly.
Jason took half a cantaloupe and started spooning out bite-size pieces. He was hungry and didn’t know when he’d get to eat again. It all looked good to him. When the waiter appeared again Jason asked for a glass of milk. The waiter delivered a small carton a crystal glass and a plastic straw. Jason poured the milk and took a drink, set the glass down and said, “I’ll ask the question again, general. What is it you didn’t understand?”
“What makes Yellowstone so much more of a threat than St. Helens or Pinatubo? We had an air base at the foot of Pinatubo.” He grabbed a hand full of grapes and popped one in his mouth.
“Apples and oranges,” Jason said. “Pinatubo is a conventional volcano that’s fed by deep magma formed by the collision of tectonic plates. The magma comes up through vents a hundred miles or better in the earth. Yellowstone, on the other hand, is a hot spot where the earth’s crust is relatively thin only three miles thick. The magma is contained in a giant lake.
“When Pinatubo erupted the ash cloud caused the earth
’s temperature to drop one degree Celsius for a year. If Yellowstone erupts, it’ll drop the temperature at least fifteen degrees. That could cause another ice age resulting in worldwide starvation.”
The general chewed on a grape and nodded. “Yeah, why can’t we drop a smart bomb down the spout of this thing and plug it up?”
The question was so outlandish that Jason put his hand over his mouth to stifle his laugh. He was grinning when he said, “You’re serious?”
“Don’t play games with me, Dr. Trask. Everything I do is serious.”
There was enough venom in the general’s voice to poison a charging army. Jason flipped his cantaloupe over forming a dome and jammed the plastic straw through the rind. “Maybe this will help explain. Pretend this is a conventional volcano. You couldn’t find the hole to drop a bomb down before it erupted if you tried. The best you could do is drop one in the crater. What would you gain? It’s going to erupt anyway. Just for the sake of argument, let’s say you knew where the main magma tube was and you could get a bomb into it. The magma flow might be plugged for a time until it worked its way around the plug and blew out somewhere else. We’re not dealing with a low pressure system like Kilauea. Yellowstone has the pressure of a hundred Pinatubo’s.
Jason pulled the straw out of the cantaloupe. A super volcano is a lake of magma under a swelling dome of rock stretched to its breaking point. When it erupts it’s more like this.” He stabbed the cantaloupe with his butter knife splitting the dome. The magma is under enormous pressure like a balloon ready to burst. As soon as the pressure is released the gasses in the magma expand, like a can of pop that has been shaken. You have the mother of all explosions.” Jason pointed to the split. The magma shoots up in a sheet of molten rock miles into the stratosphere. The prevailing winds pick it up and in a few hours the entire earth is enveloped in an ash cloud so dense it blocks out the sun. The sulfur dioxide reflects what little remaining sunlight is left back into space. The earth’s temperature drops by twenty degrees and all plant life dies. The heavy fallout covers thousands of square miles suffocating everything in its path. This may go on for years. To put it in perspective, draining Yellowstone’s magma pool is like trying to drain the great lakes with a pick and shovel, or in a worst case letting the air out of a balloon by stabbing it with a pin.
