“I would have expected nothing less, given your reputation for integrity.”
Kinkaid grunted and sat back in his chair. “Pardon me for interrupting,” he said. “Please get on with your, er, fascinating presentation.”
“Thank you,” Brynhild said. “To continue, you gentlemen come from all parts of the country and represent many different endeavors. Among your number are politicians, bureaucrats, academics, lobbyists, and engineers. But you and I belong to a common fraternity bound together by one thing. Water. A commodity we know to be in very short supply these days. Everyone is aware that we are facing what could possibly be the longest drought in the country’s history. Is that not so, Professor Dearborn? As a climatologist, would you kindly give us your appraisal of the situation?”
“I’d be glad to,” replied a middle-aged man who seemed surprised to be called upon. He ran his fingers through thinning ginger-colored hair and said, “This country is experiencing moderate to severe drought in its midsection and along the southern tier from Arizona to Florida. That’s nearly a quarter of the contiguous forty-eight states. The situation will probably get worse. In addition, water in the Great Lakes is at all-time lows. A prolonged drought of Dust Bowl levels is entirely possible. A mega drought lasting decades is not outside the realm of possibility.”
There was a murmur from around the table.
Brynhild opened a wooden box in front of her, dug her hand inside, and let the sand run through her long fingers.
“The party’s over, gentlemen. This is the bleak, dusty future we face.”
“With all due respect, Ms. Brynhild,” drawled a Nevadan, “you’re not telling us anything new. Vegas is going to be in tough shape. L.A. and Phoenix aren’t much better off.”
She put her hands together in light applause. “Agreed. But what if I told you there is a way to save our cities?”
“I’d like to hear about that,” said the Nevadan.
She slammed the cover down symbolically on the box.
“The first step has already been taken. As most of you know, Congress has authorized private control over the distribution of water from the Colorado River.”
Kinkaid leaned forward onto the table. “And as you must know, Ms. Sigurd, I led the opposition to that bill.”
“Fortunately you did not prevail. Had the legislation gone down, the West would have been doomed. The reservoirs hold only a two-year supply. After that ran out we would have to evacuate most of California and Arizona and a good portion of Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, and Wyoming.”
“I’ll say the same thing I told those fools in Washington. Putting Hoover Dam in private hands won’t increase the water supply.”
“That was never at issue. The problem was not water supply but distribution. Much of the water was being misused. Ending government subsidies and putting water in the private sector means that it will not be wasted for the simplest of reasons. Waste is not profitable.”
“I stand by my basic argument,” Kinkaid said. “Something as important as water should not be controlled by companies that are unaccountable to the public.”
“The public had its chance and failed. Now the price of water will be set by supply and demand. The marketplace will rule. Only those who can afford the water will get it.”
“That’s exactly what I said during the debate. The rich cities would thrive while the poor communities die of thirst.”
Brynhild was unyielding. “So what of it? Consider the alter natives if the water continued to be distributed under the old publicly owned system and the rivers dried up. The West as we know it would become a dust bowl. As the man from Nevada said, L.A., Phoenix, and Denver would become ghost towns. Picture tumbleweed blowing through the empty casinos of Las Vegas. There would be economic disaster. Bond markets would dry up. Wall Street would turn its back on us. Loss in financial power means lost influence in Washington. Public works money would flow to other parts of the country.”
She let the litany of disasters sink in, then went on. “Westerners would become the new ‘Okies,’ straight out of The Grapes of Wrath. Only instead of moving west to the Promised Land, they would pile their families into their Lexus and Mercedes SWs and head east.” With irony in her rich voice, she said, “Ask yourself how the crowded eastern seaboard would react to thou sands, millions of jobless westerners moving into their neighbor hood.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Wouldn’t it be interesting if the people in Oklahoma refused to take us under their wing?”
“I wouldn’t blame them,” said a developer from Southern California. “They’d greet us the same way the Californians did my grandparents, with guns and goon squads and road blocks.”
A rancher from Arizona grinned ruefully. “If you Californians weren’t so damned greedy, there would be enough water for everybody.”
Within minutes everyone was talking at once. Brynhild let the argument go on before rapping the table with her knuckle.
“This fruitless discussion is an example of the squabbling over water that has gone on for decades. In the old days ranchers shot each other over water rights. Today your weapons are law suits. Privatization will end this squabbling. We must end the fighting among ourselves.”
The sound of clapping echoed in the hall. “Brava,” said Kinkaid. “I applaud your eloquent performance, but you’re wasting your time. I intend to ask Congress to reopen the whole issue.”
“That might be a mistake.”
Kinkaid was too agitated to detect the veiled threat. “I don’t think so. I have it on good authority that the companies that have taken over the Colorado River system spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to influence this awful legislation.”
“Your information is inaccurate. We spent millions.”
“Millions. You-?”
“Not personally. My corporation, which is the umbrella organization for those companies you mentioned.”
“I’m stunned. The Colorado River is under your control?”
“Actually, under the control of an entity set up for that ex press purpose.”
“Outrageous! I can’t believe you’re telling me this.”
“Nothing that has been done is illegal.”
“That’s what they said in Los Angeles when the city water department stole the Owens Valley river.”
“You make my point for me. This is nothing new. L.A. be came the biggest, richest, and most powerful desert city in the world by sending forth an army of water surveyors, lawyers, and land speculators to take control of water from its neighbors.”
Professor Dearborn spoke up. “Pardon me, but I’m afraid I agree with the congressman. The Los Angeles case was a classic case of water imperialism. If what you’re saying is true, you’re laying the groundwork for a water monopoly.”
“Let me pose a scenario, Dr. Dearborn. The drought persists. The Colorado River is unable to meet demand. The cities are dying of thirst. You wouldn’t have lawyers debating water allocation, you’d have gunfights at the water hole as in the old days. Think about it. Thirst-crazed mobs in the street, attacking all authority. The complete breakdown of order. The Watts riots would be a schoolyard fight by comparison.”
Dearborn nodded like a man in a trance. “You’re right,” he said, clearly troubled. “But, if you’ll pardon me … it just doesn’t seem right.”
She cut him short. “This is a fight for survival, professor. We live or we die according to our will.”
Defeated, Dearborn leaned back, arms folded, and shook his head.
Kinkaid took up the cudgels. “Don’t let her confuse the issue with her phony scenarios, Professor Dearborn.”
“Apparently I have not been able to change your mind.”
Kinkaid stood and said, “No, but I’ll tell you what you did do. You’ve given me some good ammunition for when I bring this matter up again before committee. I wouldn’t be surprised if antitrust action is merited. I’ll bet my colleagues who voted for the Colorado River bill would change their minds if they knew that the whole system was
