“We agree,” Mayor Ramirez said. “The germ must not get out of L.A. Thank you for your support, Mr. President.”
Ramirez ended his phone call with the President of the United States and rubbed his eyes. Their conversation had been distressingly frank. Until someone came up with an antidote to the petroplague, the man in the White House had one overwhelming priority: quarantine. Isolating the plague to Los Angeles was all that mattered in Washington, and the majority of federal assistance would be devoted to that task. Emergency services, food distribution, and clearing the roads were Ramirez’s problems.
Deep down, he knew the President was right. But this was his city, and he was a fighter. He survived gang-infested streets as a child, and ambushes in Iraq during his time in the service. Los Angeles would not become Baghdad, not on his watch.
He rose from his desk and leaned against a floor-to-ceiling window in his office, forehead pressed against the glass. Los Angeles sprawled in all directions around him but an invisible noose would soon cut it off from the rest of the world.
He left his private office and joined a group of high-level officials in the conference room outside. It was time to prepare a battle plan, starting with a containment strategy.
Leaders display confidence to inspire confidence in others.
“Quarantine, people. How big do we draw the circle?”
“Better to over-shoot than under,” said Molton, his chief of staff. “We should think in terms of concentric rings, drawing the outer ring quite large. Nothing leaves the center ring. Vehicles can move from outer rings to inner rings, but not the other way around. Where possible, movement within a ring should be allowed.”
“How are we going to quarantine fifteen million people?” a second advisor said.
“We don’t,” Ramirez said. “Christina Gonzalez said the germ doesn’t infect people. It infects petroleum and anything the petroleum touches. The people of the greater Los Angeles area are free to leave the city, but they can’t go in any type of vehicle that burns oil or gasoline. No cars, trucks, mopeds, lawn mowers, not any internal combustion engine of any kind. Let’s make this perfectly clear: if those bacteria get out of L.A., the whole country is screwed, and it will be our fault.”
“So people are supposed to walk across the San Gabriel Mountains?” someone asked.
“That’s an option. Or they can stay put,” Molton said.
“With the support the President just promised me,” Ramirez said, “we can offer a few more choices than that. But staying put is the best option, and the one we should promote. We can’t have thousands of people straggling across the desert in this heat. As long as we have utilities, Angelenos are safest in their own homes.”
“What are the chances the lights will stay on?” an advisor asked.
Molton flipped through a stack of notes.
“The electricity and water shouldn’t be directly affected by the germ. The Department of Water and Power gave me a breakdown of where they get their energy. Most of their generating capacity comes from coal-fired plants that aren’t even located in California.”
“Do the bacteria eat coal?”
“According to Gonzalez, no. They’ll eat gasoline, kerosene, jet fuel, and diesel, but not coal or natural gas. Which is good, because LADWP’s second biggest power source is electricity generated from natural gas plants here in the Los Angeles basin. Even if those plants are contaminated, they should still function normally. The rest of our electricity comes from a variety of secure sources: nuclear from the Palo Verde plant in Arizona, and a variety of hydroelectric, solar, wind and geothermal projects.”
“So virtually none of the city’s electricity is dependent on petroleum,” Ramirez said.
“Not the generating, anyway. Of course if there are infrastructure problems—downed lines or whatever—LADWP is going to have trouble getting things repaired in a timely fashion.”
“And the water?”
“In theory, should be okay. The area’s water lines are either standard gravity-fed or pressurized by electric or natural gas pumps.”
“Thank God for small favors,” Ramirez said. “If we can keep the water and electricity on, we can count on most people staying home, at least for now. Nobody panics when their TV, fridge and air conditioner are running.”
“But those refrigerators will soon be empty,” Molton said. “Without truck and rail transit into the city, we’re going to run out of everything real fast.”
“Let’s talk big picture,” Ramirez said. “The President agrees that the absolute number one priority is to contain the infection. Nothing that carries or touches petroleum is to leave L.A. If we can prevent the oil-eating bacteria from spreading beyond this area, it will buy us time to deal with our transportation problems while the scientists work on a solution. We’ve got one thing in our favor: any vehicle running on contaminated gasoline is going to die before it gets very far, so we have a natural quarantine effect.”
“What about the Port?” someone asked. “Tankers shipping contaminated oil won’t suffer engine failure.”
“The Port of Los Angeles is closed, effective immediately,” Ramirez said. “Any ships that haven’t made physical contact with California should be diverted elsewhere. Any ships already in port will have to stay there to prevent spreading the germ. The President will order the U.S. Navy to enforce the ship quarantine. Of course the airports are shut down already.”
“And the Port at Long Beach?”
“Same deal.”
“Sir, you realize the impact these closures will have on the economy?”
“The President and I discussed it. The Port of Los Angeles is the busiest container port in the country. It handles twenty percent of America’s imports and exports. Closure will be crippling, and the longshoremen will put up a fight, but what choice do we have?” he asked, throwing his hands up in frustration. “This isn’t about money or a temporary economic disruption. It’s not about poll ratings or political gain. Do you realize what will happen if this bug gets out? Our entire civilization is based on oil. We can’t survive without it.”
Gradually, the true magnitude of the crisis dawned on the city leaders. Their parochial concerns about Southern California were overshadowed by the global cost of containment failure.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ramirez said gravely, “we have the authority of the President to use any means necessary. Whatever it takes, those bacteria must not escape.”