The Thanatos Syndrome

“I think there’s been a Grade Two incident at Grand Mer. Either a spill or a leak. Vergil knows the plumbing—maybe he can help us. What I can’t understand is how in the hell it could get into the Ratliffe intake upriver. In any case, it’s my business. When people get sick, etiology unknown, it becomes my business. What do you think?”
    Vergil and I look at each other, “One question, Lucy,” I say.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou know those queries you made of the data banks last night?” “Yes?”
    â€œDo they know they’ve been queried by you?”
    â€œWhy?” She looks at me strangely.
    â€œJust curious.”
    â€œIt’s routine epidemiology. I’m entitled. They wouldn’t red-flag it—as they might if the query were suspicious, some hacker fishing around. They know me. I did the same thing with the Jap encephalitis, though not on such a grand scale as last night.”
    â€œI see. Lucy, are you going to notify the feds, EPA or NRC?”
    â€œOf course. This is heavy-duty stuff—and you found it. We found it. We’ll both report it, okay? But before the stampede of bureaucrats, I’d like to have a look for myself. Want to come? I think you better come. You’re the guy that blew the whistle. I should think you’d be interested.”
    â€œI’m interested.” She’s forgotten it is my idea.
    â€œVergil’s going to come. He knows the territory and the technology. He’s our resource person. Okay, Vergil?”
    â€œSure,” says Vergil without looking up.
    â€œOkay, now look.” Lucy weights the map with more crystal goblets and salt cellars. “Here we are at Pantherburn. Here’s old Grand Mer, now a blind loop of the river, a lake. Up here is Angola, the state pen, a plantation with ten thousand inmates—which incidentally is supplied by the Ratliff number-one water district. Here’s Fedville—”
    â€œIs that in the water district?” I ask.
    â€œNo, it’s not. They’ve got their own intake half a mile upriver.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œYou see what?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œHere’s Tunica Island, not really an island, as you see, but part of the great Tunica Swamp. Here’s the Grand Mer facility, reactor and cooling tower. Here’s Raccourci Chute, the New River, and here upriver, less than a mile from the facility, is the Ratliff intake. And next to it, over the levee, is the pumping station which supplies the area of the occurrence of your syndrome. Here, not three hundred yards upriver, is Ratliff number-two intake, which supplies all of Fedville. Now here’s the question. You already know, don’t you?” She cocks an eye at me.
    â€œSure. The question is how what you call an incident can affect number-one intake, which is upriver, and not affect number two.”
    â€œRight,” she says, eyeing me. “Why do you say ‘what you call an incident’?”
    â€œThat’s what you call it. I don’t know what it is.”
    â€œLet’s go look.” She pushes back her chair.
    â€œDo you just drive up to the gate and announce your business?”
    â€œI sure as hell do. Because it is my business. And I’ve got both federal and state passes. I can go to the facility or the water district number-one station or the Fedville station. I can go anywhere. You, Tom, are coming along because it is also your business. You discovered it. What we don’t know and mean to find out is whether it is a one-shot spill and we’ve seen the worst or whether it’s an ongoing contamination. Vergil is coming because he knows pipes. What we’ve got here, both in the facility and in the water district, is essentially nothing more than a system of pipes. And Vergil is majoring in pipes, aren’t you, Vergil?”
    Vergil smiles and nods.
    â€œWhat we got here is a pipe problem,” Lucy tells us. “A busted pipe. Got to be. Let’s go.”
    â€œLucy,” I say, taking her arm, “before we go I’d like to check one more reading upstairs. Could Vergil meet us at the truck in, say, fifteen minutes?”
    â€œNo problem.” Vergil nods and is gone.

6. LUCY WAITS, SMILING , at her keyboard. “Who do you want to run?”
    â€œEllen.”
    â€œEllen.” One swift, hooded glance, but her voice doesn’t change. “Okay. How do we get