Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [265]
"Sure," said Tim. "Tell me, Dolf, what's your job here?" Weigley seemed too young to be an engineer, but he wasn't built like one of the construction workers.
"Power system apprentice," Weigley said. "Which means we do everything. Got that stuff settled? Let's go. They told me to show you around and help you set up the radio."
"Right … What does it mean, 'everything'?"
Weigley shrugged. "When I'm on duty I sit in the control room and drink coffee and play cards until the duty operator decides something needs working on. Then I go do it. That could be anything at all. Get a reading on a dial. Put out a fire. Throw a switch. Turn a valve. Repair a break in a cable. Anything."
"So you're a robot for the engineers."
"Engineers?"
"The duty operators."
"They aren't engineers. They got their job doing what I do. One day I'll be an operator, if there's anything left to operate. Hell, Hobie Latham started by walking on snowshoes in the Sierra, measuring the snow to find out how much spring runoff we could expect, and he's Operations Manager now."
They went outside into the muddy yard. The big earthen levees loomed high around them. Men worked on them, putting tip forms while others poured in concrete to reinforce the cofferdam that kept SJNP safe. Others did incomprehensible things with forklifts. The yard was a bustle of activity, seemingly chaotic, but everyone seemed to know what he was doing.
It made Tim feel curiously vulnerable, to stand inside the Project grounds and know that the water outside was thirty feet above them. San Joaquin Nuclear Project was a sunken island, surrounded by levees thrown up by bulldozers. Pumps took care of seepage through the earthen walls. One break in the levees, or a day without power to the pumps, would drown them.
The Dutch had lived with that knowledge all their lives, and what they feared had come to pass; Holland couldn't conceivably have survived the tidal waves following Hammerfall.
"I think the best place for your radio is on one of the cooling towers," Dolf said. "But those are cut off from the plant." He climbed a board staircase to the top of the levee and pointed. Across a hundred feet of water the cooling towers loomed up, four of them set inside a smaller levee that had leaked badly. Their bases were partly flooded. A thick white plume rose from each of the towers, climbed into the sky, growing ghostly, finally vanishing.
"They won't have any trouble finding this place," Tim said.
"No."
"Hey, I thought nuclear plants were nonpolluting."
Dolf Weigley laughed. "That's no pollution. Steam, that's all it is. Water vapor. How could it be smoke? We're not burning anything." He pointed to a narrow planked footbridge leading from the levee to the nearest tower. "That's the only way over unless we get out a boat. But I still think it's the best place for the radio."
"So do I, but we can't carry the antenna on that plank."
"Sure we can. You ready? Let's get the stuff."
Tim gingerly climbed the slanting ladder that zigzagged up the side of the big redwood tower. Once again he was impressed with the organization at SJNP. Weigley had gone into the yard and come back with men to carry the radio, car batteries and antenna, and they'd skipped along the narrow plank bridge with all the stuff in one trip, then gone back to work. No questions, no arguments, no protests. Maybe Hammerfall had changed more than marriage patterns: Tim remembered from the papers that SJNP had been plagued with strikes and arguments over which union would represent whom, overtime pay, living conditions … Labor troubles had delayed the station almost as long as the environmentalists who'd done their best to kill it.
He reached the top of the fifty-foot tower. He was about thirty feet above the level of the sea. The base of the tower was surrounded by a leaking dam, and pumps worked to keep its intakes clear. There was a strong wind into the tower at its bottom.
The thing was big, over two hundred feet