“I thought we had a couple of month’s supply of fuel. How could this happen?” Third asks after being brought up to speed as the golf cart sped from the Main building toward the Auxiliary access corridor.
“Yeah, you and me both,” Gary mutters with some clear exasperation in his voice. “So either the numbers were a lie or something else.”
Third watched as the nice, paved asphalt dropped to rough blue gravel and the groomed hedge line was replaced with chainlink fencing. The two sets of fences lining the road created a pair of distinct rectangular work yards known alternatively as the Pit and Heavens. Most of the smaller machines like bulldozers and backhoes were parked in the Pit where the severe puddling wouldn’t cause as much trouble. Alternatively, most of the collected parts and supplies for maintaining them were safely stored under the roofed portions of heaven. And seated in the very center at the end of the access corridor sat the three enormous tanks of fuel as well as the underground reserve.
A few hundred feet before arriving at the tanks the golf cart skidded as a pair of larger work trucks pulled out in sequence to block the road.
The first, a beat-up F-350 with mismatched front tires and a large tank situated in the bed, and the second a newer Silverado with a pair of large air and hydraulic pumps bolted to a structure obscuring the rear window.
From the first truck stepped a man with a red hat emblazoned with a logo Third recognized as a sports team but couldn’t name. He yanked at his belt as it failed to meet its goal of keeping his oversized pants around his wide body. Coughing into his hand and then replacing it with a cigar, he tips his hat as he steps up to meet the stopped golf cart.
“I’m glad you accepted our invitation.”
A few chuckles ring out from a handful of crusty-looking men sitting on stacks of tires and in the seats of tractors under the covered section the trucks had departed from. It seemed like this was an expected show for the handymen and assorted technicians assembled.
“I see you guys, fortunately, have power,” Gary growls with mock ignorance as he pulls himself from the golf cart to meet the man face-to-face as he wanted. “You need to say something Falcotini? Say it, don’t drag people out by pulling some stunt that could get someone killed.”
“Say it?” The Foreman of the grounds asks with a forced laugh mixed into his words. “My god, we’ve been saying it nonstop Podavani!”
The pair of Gary’s faced off using a long history of butting heads as instant kindling to burn into explosive rage.
“What’s going on? Everyone calm down and just talk like adults.” Third, finally having enough, pulls himself from the role of bystander. “Are we actually out of fuel or not?”
“No,” Gary immediately fills the opening of the Foreman’s mouth. “He pulled this stunt to send…”
“Our brilliant CEO is exactly correct.” Gary Falcotini smiles condescendingly before turning serious as he turns to Third. “You don’t need to panic yet Junior, but this was a preview of what’s coming if we keep overusing the generators as we have been. Things aren’t designed to run full throttle 24/7.”
“Isn’t that exactly what they were designed for?” Third honestly asks with a perplexed expression.
“They are rated for 7 days continuous. But we have four so we've been cycling them so that none are…” Gary Podavani begins to explain from beside Third.
“That ain’t my point and it ain’t even true.” The foreman rebukes immediately spitting the words as if washing the taste from his mouth. “All you guys and your calculations and your procedures don’t account for shit if you don’t know shit. And if you’d asked we could’a told you weeks ago. Jake, explain the stuff to these idiots.”
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Following his request, the man who had driven the newer truck steps from his cab with a ruggedized laptop and clears his throat.
“I calculated the original fuel audit that you are working with, three months was the estimate with the generator as the only fuel consumer.” Jake’s point was clear as soon as he said the final words, but he continued to truly show the scope. “Build a road, that’s three days less power. Each scouting flight, even though the UAVs are electric, that’s still 6 minutes. Turn an office into a house, that’s a new load, and the calculation has to change. How many variables are you accounting for when calculating how much longer we can survive? Because our numbers are far off. If the trend continues, let alone 2 months we might not have two weeks.”
Third turned his head hoping for something from Gary but the brilliant CEO could only nod as he swallowed the new data uncomfortably. Catching the glance he grimaces weakly to Third with a shrug.
“What do you suggest?” Third asks, breaking the tension in a manner the Foreman and his team hadn’t expected.
“Do something to increase our fuel supply.” A jeer from the yard comes.
“Yeah!” Another adds noncommittally.
“There was talk at some point about buying back fuel from the commuters. That would be a start.”
“With what, money?” Third laughs picturing the wad of valueless paper tucked in his wallet.
“Not dollars, pay it in coins.” Gary nods beside Third. “We’ve started gathering a fairly sizeable sum by installing private wells for business and nobility. And then once we begin clearing and farming the…”
A realization occurred as he mentions the other project requiring fuel on the direct horizon.
“You see now why we invited you down here.” The foreman asks with an understanding nod.
“That doesn’t excuse putting people at risk.”
“Look around.” The foreman sighs pointing behind the two at the arrays of glimmering lights illuminating sections all around the complex. “The downtime was minimal and necessary. No vital facilities were severed all we did was shut off the lights for a bit. And if it helps resolve things it's worth spooking a few folks.”
“But we still don’t have a real solution.” Third sighs as the looming diesel tanks in the distance seemed to shrink the more he looked at them.
“I can think of an easy one,” Jake says fairly blankly as if the real solution was dead simple.
“Drill Baby! Drill!” One of the sideline members shouts with a few hoots and howls of agreement.
“You’ll have to excuse the guys. A bunch of ‘em ran platforms with A&R Fuel before they came over.”
“Can we?” Third asks, never even considering it as an option until now. It seemed silly as he thought of it. Of course, they could. Refining fuel probably isn’t too complicated.
“It’s not easy.” Gary fills in as if reading Third's mind from his expression alone. “Let alone finding the oil itself, refining at a consistent pace will require a fairly extensive construction project.”
“We’ve thought of that,” Jake adds after receiving a subtle nod from the Foreman. Turning the nod and passing it to a pair of workers, he motions them forward. “We even built a small-scale model.”
One stepped behind a large crate and pumped on a wheeled jack until it began to roll loudly across the concrete pad. Stopping a short distance, the other worker yanks on the sides of the crate forcefully until it thudded heavily against the ground.
“That’s it?” Third couldn’t help asking a bit disappointedly. On the wooden platform sat a simple-looking stack of metal pipes with a handful of braided hoses coming from manifolds on either side
“Give us some credit we’ve never built one before.” The man who wheeled the device complains a tad defensively.
“Will that work?” Gary asks a bit dubiously tilting his head to fully take in the welded set of tubing and gauges.
“It works with mash.” The gruffer Gary reasons as he rubs his stubbled chin. “Tha’s a good shine.”
“It’ll work,” Jake explains confidently. “Fuel won’t be ideal but it’ll burn. You let us worry about that, you just bring us the oil. As much as you can.”
“Deal.” Third says without a thought. With the amount of data they’d gathered and aerial surveys they’d taken, there was no doubt in his mind that they had surely found something that would indicate an oil deposit or something.
Almost as an afterthought, he glances at Gary to gauge his enthusiasm. “You know we can’t make any promises, but if it’s out there, well ya’ll know better than any, that we can bring it to the surface.”
“We’re counting on it.” Jake nods solemnly, “Do what you can.”
“And cut out all this wasteful energy use. Do we really need to be running servers and buses and all this junk?” The foreman adds abruptly as the tension was finally leaving their minds.