by Beth Martin
Extricating his key, he let himself into his basement office. It smelled more of mildew than he remembered. He set his bag on the desk, which was shoved in a corner, and plopped down in his chair. Other than a whiteboard, there was nothing else in the room. Definitely no window.
He pulled out his laptop and plugged it in. He had no idea what he would do. His savings were gone, he would no longer have a job after the quarter ended, and he had nowhere to live. But at the forefront of his mind were the geological forces in Colorado and what could be causing the earthquakes.
···
Dr. Hall sent his apologies in an email for leaving Colorado so abruptly. He blamed his departure on a family emergency which had required his immediate attention. What he didn’t explain was why he had taken Eileen with him.
The earthquake reached the top story on CNN’s website. It had been an 8.5 on the Richter scale, making it even stronger, if only by a little, than the one that destroyed the generator.
Seismologists had no way of predicting the next big earthquake, yet somehow Dr. Hall had preemptively known about both big Colorado earthquakes.
The article on CNN discussed how rare it was to have two large earthquakes back to back and quoted top seismologists stating just how improbable the pair of earthquakes were. Although the article postulated the magnitude of tectonic plate activity that was required to form mountain ranges and rift basins, no direct links to the recent earthquakes were made.
Peter had no idea how or what to do next. He pulled up the seismic readings that recorded all of the United States for the most recent activity. He plotted circles on a map corresponding to the locations of each seismic reading. Zooming into Last Chance on his map, he could get a good idea of where the earthquake had been centered. There it was, a spot where all the circles almost perfectly intersected, about a mile due north of the well where they had constructed the generator. A spot just off of Highway 71.
···
Peter reread the email from the editor at the Journal of Earth and Planetary Science. Although they liked his paper, Peter’s hypothesis didn’t seem supported by the information he collected, and he would need empirical data in order for them to publish his paper as an article. Their official decision was ‘revise and resubmit,’ which was much better than he had hoped for.
He opened his last unread email.
Dr. Cork,
My father does an annual gala to benefit renewable energy. Usually someone from First Solar does a presentation, but I think it would be great if you said something about geothermal energy. It would just be a five-minute talk for a bunch of rich business men and their dates. I’ve attached an invitation.
Let me know if you’d like to attend or do the presentation. Don’t worry about the ticket price.
Grace Hudson
He was unsure what he would say in a lecture for a charity gala, but he would think of something. He emailed Grace back to let her know that he would be glad to speak at the event. Not sure how technical his presentation should be, he put together some interesting information on geothermal energy, slanting the topic toward the inevitability of geothermal habitation. One of the attendees may be interested enough to help support his research.
In the meantime, he had to dedicate his time to finding a new job. The deadline for applying to the most prestigious post docs had already passed, but there were a few lower-tiered universities and colleges still accepting résumés. Every once in a while, a prospect would flake out at the last minute, leaving the department scrambling to find a replacement. This was Peter’s best hope of getting a respectable job. All he could do now was make sure his CV was polished and apply to every opening that came up.
···
Peter didn’t recognize the young man meeting him at the tuxedo shop. He had only met him briefly as Sandra’s “friend” the night he spent in LA meeting Grace’s father for dinner. The man before him was compact with dark hair and a megawatt smile, complete with dimples. He seemed like the kind of person who would gladly manage your investment portfolio for a hefty fee, yet somehow found time to play 18 holes of golf twice a week.
But Peter knew better than to rely on judgments made purely on physical appearance. Blake held out his hand for a firm shake, followed by the question, “So, Peter, you play golf?”
“I did play frisbee golf in the rec league,” Peter admitted.
“Oh, man, I played a lot of frolf in college, but it’s been a while. We should do a course, but only if you promise to go easy on me.” He gave Peter a wink, which made Peter wonder if Blake had just asked him out on a date. He was both flattered and perplexed.
“Perhaps,” Peter said, not willing to commit to any plans.
“Well you have my number now,” Blake said, holding up his cell phone. “Grace wanted to make sure you had appropriate attire for the upcoming gala. This place does all the wedding and prom rentals, so it is cheap,” he said, hollering the word ‘cheap.’ “I figured I could get some new links while we’re here,” he said, pinching the end of his sleeve.
The salesperson showed Peter the catalog of all the suits and tuxes they offered for rental. There were pages upon pages of identical-looking articles of clothing; this one with two buttons, this one with three, another one with two buttons and a narrow lapel, but this lapel had a notch. After Blake insisted that a particular tux was far superior to the rest, although it seemed the same to several of the others in Peter’s eyes, Peter settled on that tux.
As the salesperson began collecting Peter’s measurements, Blake continued their conversation.
“So you’re presenting on geothermal energy at the gala,” Blake ventured.
“Yes, that is the plan.”
“I heard there are a bunch of new geothermal plants going in over the next few years. You affiliated with any of them?”
Peter extended his arm as the clerk measured from the back of his neck to his wrist. “No, I’m in research.”
“You should consider working for one of these huge geothermal energy companies. One of my new clients is a manager at GeoPower Solutions. He makes money like it’s going out of style.”
“Huh.” Peter didn’t really care for large corporations, and he couldn’t imagine leaving academia.
“Actually, I think Synergy Power Systems will be starting up a geothermal division. I bet Grace could get you an in.”
After SPS had lost so much money on his experimental underground geothermal generator construction, he doubted he could get a job there even as a janitor. Instead of mentioning all this, he said, “Synergy Power Systems has been funding a good bit of research in the area. I’m not surprised.”
They left the tux shop, Blake holding a small shopping bag containing his new cufflinks, which cost twice as much as Peter’s tux rental. As they walked back toward the SLAU campus, Blake said, “You know, Peter, you’re a cool guy. Some of my buddies do a monthly poker night. You should come join us.”
Peter didn’t respond, having no desire to join a poker game.
“I’ll text you the details,” Blake offered. Peter simply nodded before they went separate ways, Blake to the valet to pick up his car and Peter to the bus stop.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Even though he came back to LA a week ago, Peter still hadn’t bothered to find a place to stay. His office had been working for the time being. One of the items he had packed in his duffle when they scrambled to leave Last Chance was his sleeping bag. It wasn’t terribly comfortable on the cement floor of his basement office, but it was better than getting arrested for sleeping outside.
He changed into the rental tux in the restrooms. Having no idea how to tie a bow tie, he found a video by a Harvard professor on YouTube and watched it four times before successfully getting his own bow tied correctly.
Spending the majority of the last week preparing his presentation and applying to jobs, he hadn’t really put much more thought into the Colorado earthquakes. The only information he had been able to put tog
ether since he returned to LA was the precise location of the epicenter, information which had also been calculated and published by almost every seismologist. Something about the location didn’t sit well with Peter. He looked at the map on his computer for what felt like the millionth time. Although he had suspected that all the fracking had been causing the increased seismic activity, he had been uncomfortably close to the epicenter right before the last quake happened, and he knew without a doubt that no rigs were nearby. Also, something that intense would have been more likely caused by an explosion. An explosion deep underground… right next to 71…
The realization made him jolt. It must have been an explosion set in one of the wells off of 71, the ones Dr. Hall had been trying so hard to hide from Grace and him. He had to see the wells. Had one of them been used to orchestrate a man-made earthquake? He needed to tell Grace.
···
Peter’s anxious jitters about giving a presentation in a few minutes to a room full of extravagantly dressed men and women had been replaced by an excitement to travel back to Last Chance and do some investigating. He didn’t even have enough money for a bus ticket, but he would figure something out. If he could just get there, he knew he’d find the source and hopefully stop future earthquakes.
He nervously bounced his knee under the table, stopping when a delicate hand touched his shoulder. He turned to find Grace smiling at him. She looked stunning with her blond hair half pinned up and half in loose curls and wearing an impeccably fitted, shiny gold dress. He knew he should say some sort of compliment, but found himself speechless.
With the flick of a finger, a server approached her. She grabbed two glasses of white wine and offered one to Peter. “I find a drink helps take the edge off when I’m nervous.”
He took the drink and set it on the table as she sat in the chair next to him. “Thank you, but I need to keep a clear head.”
“Well, all your jittering is starting to make me nervous. Just one drink, for me?” Grace held up her wine glass. “A toast,” she said. “To geothermal energy. Far superior to solar energy.”
“Actually, in LA, solar energy is more cost effective and yields greater wattage output.”
“Oh, come on, Peter,” she quipped. “This is your time to shine. Just pretend that no one is in the audience except for me. Do your presentation like we’re having a casual conversation and forget all these old stodges.”
He smiled. “Fine,” he said, raising his glass.
“To clean energy.” Their glasses chimed in a single staccato clink, and Grace lifted hers to her lips and kept drinking until it was empty.
Peter took only a careful sip before setting his drink back on the table. “I’ve got to get over there.” The MC waved him up to the front of the room.
“Good luck,” Grace said.
His laptop was already hooked up to the projector and ready to go. The MC introduced Michael Hudson, who warmed up the audience briefly before introducing Peter.
He opened the presentation he had made on Google Slides, selecting the first page. The simple, bold black title, “An Introduction to Geothermal Energy,” displayed over a plain white background.
“Good evening, ladies and gentleman. My name is Dr. Peter Cork and I am an associate professor in the department of earth sciences at the South Los Angeles University.”
He advanced to the next slide. “What is Geothermal Energy? The earth’s crust is just a thin layer floating on top of molten hot magma. Harnessing the heat below the surface gives clean efficient energy.”
The third slide was titled ‘Ecological Impact.’ “The first concern when putting in a geothermal plant is the ecological impact on surround plants and wildlife. Although laser drilling has a minimal impact on the encompassing area, the best option is to use an already existing well or naturally occurring vent.”
He tapped the keyboard to advance the slides again. “The method for collecting geothermal energy involves pumping high-pressure water into the ground, forcing up hotter water from deeper down. For residential use, a closed system is installed with a loop which circulates air deep into the ground before coming back into the home, which helps keep the home at a constant temperature.
“Now, both of these methods work best near a naturally occurring fault line. With the advent of laser drilling, oil reserves deeper than could be reached with classical methods are now being tapped. In areas where there is no oil, geothermal power plants have been tested, but only with limited success, since so much water needs to be pumped down to get any results.
“The natural next step is to use the large caverns in the reservoir rock left by the depleted oil fields. Potentially, these caverns could house domiciles. At their depth, heating and cooling systems would not be necessary, so an incredibly energy-efficient house could be constructed in the cavern.”
He looked around at the room full of decidedly uninterested faces. It was no worse than when he held lectures for his students. “And that concludes my presentation.” He was about to ask if anyone had any questions, but Michael started speaking.
“Thank you so much, Dr. Cork,” he said, turning to face Peter while clapping. The room politely applauded, and Peter took that as his cue to sit back down. “Next, we have Alan Greenfield from Solar First, who’d like to share a little about solar energy.”
Peter took his seat next to Grace. “That went really well,” she whispered while Alan started his presentation.
Alan was more of a salesman, trying to convince the gala attendees that the newest model of solar panels were aesthetically pleasing and would not detract from the beauty of their homes. He emphasized the cost saving of solar energy in the long run, but gave no information about how they worked or the environmental benefits.
Peter wanted to tell Grace about the suspicious location of the earthquakes’ epicenter, but was waiting for a good moment. He couldn’t interrupt Alan’s presentation.
Grace kept glancing at Peter, making a variety of silly faces. He wasn’t sure if she was doing this for his entertainment or her own. Michael casually walked up to his daughter and grasped her shoulder. “Stop that,” he said in a stern whisper. She sighed, giving one last exaggerated eye-roll before planting her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her hands.
Once Alan’s finished his sales pitch, Michael invited everyone to the ballroom for after-dinner cocktails. Grace introduced Peter to many of the high-profile attendees, most of whom admitted they hadn’t understood a word of his presentation.
After a whirlwind of faces, Peter was tired and just wanted to get back to his office. Grace slipped aside and pulled on another man’s sleeve. Blake turned away from the group he was chatting with to look at her, his confusion quickly melting to a smile. “Smoke. Back balcony,” she said. Blake nodded and returned to his conversation.
“Let’s get some air,” Grace said to Peter. She led him to the side of the ballroom that was covered in windows. In the middle were a series of French doors leading out to a grand balcony. They were about ten floors high, giving them an excellent view of LA’s perfect grid containing high rises, twinkling windows, and street lamps illuminating the night. The low light made Grace’s pale, golden dress appear to shimmer and glow. She looked beautiful all done up for the gala, even though Peter preferred her natural and unadorned state she had sported while camping in the snow.
She led the way to the far-right side of the balcony where there was a staircase leading down to a smaller balcony. The February evening was a little chilly, and she shivered briefly, running her hands up and down her arms.
“Would you like my jacket?” Peter offered.
She nodded, so he slipped it off and set it on her shoulders. “You think I would have gotten used to cold weather,” she joked.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that—about the earthquake.” He could see her visibly tense at the mention of it, but before he could go on, they were interrupted by a pair of footsteps coming down the stairs.
“You’re my hero,” Grace gushed as Blake pulled a joint and a lighter out of his pocket.
“Ladies first,” he said, giving the joint to his date. He held up the lighter as she put the end to her lips. She gave a delicate puff before passing it to Grace. After she took a drag, she handed it back to Blake.
“You want some?” Blake offered. “I won’t think any less of you if you do.”
“No thank you,” Peter said.
“I’ve got cigarettes in my purse if you’d prefer that,” Blake’s date said, opening her bag.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Peter insisted.
“Where are my manners?” Blake said. “Peter, this is my fiancée Katherine.”
Peter tried to commit her name to memory, giving her a nod in greeting. She looked so similar to Grace’s friend, the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally call her Sandra.
Blake exhaled a puff of smoke before handing the joint back to Katherine. “I liked your talk. You really think houses could be built in decommissioned oil fields?”
Peter nodded. He didn’t want to get sucked into small talk. “That’s what my research indicated. Actually, Grace, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Let me just enjoy this first,” she said, taking another hit. She passed off the joint and walked up to the railing of the balcony. Leaning forward, she stared off into the city, the lights reflecting off her eyes and shimmering gold dress. He watched her as she took in the city.
“Here,” Blake said, holding his glass up to Peter. “Single malt, take it.”
