Prosperity Assignment: Short Story

For want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe, the horse was lost; for want of a horse the rider was lost, being overtaken and slain by the enemy, all for want of care about a horse-shoe nail. –Benjamin Franklin

The sun was bright and warm when Patrick came home from work. He loved days like this, when the sky was an opaque blue, and there was no hint of clouds or rain. It seemed as if the perfect weather would last forever. As a meteorologist, though, Patrick knew that this was definitely not the case, he knew that this was one of those times when nature belied her tempestuous character. A butterfly had flapped its wings and a cyclone forming in the mid-Atlantic. The models showed that it might turn into a hurricane, but they also showed that it would be severely weakened. Still, the storm was coming in two days, and it was Patrick’s job to make sure that the public was safe. It had been a busy season, and although tropical storm Wilson was just getting started, he was confident that he and his team would be prepared for this one, just as they were for all the others.

***

Johnny was on the balcony, looking out at the stars. He stayed up every night to watch the stars, and the moon, waxing and waning in its lunar cycles. Johnny was interested in everything astronomical, including the sun.  At eight years old, he was a veritable astronomical scholar. He had been reading up about solar flares recently, and noticed that there was one just this September, which got him very excited. “Did you know that solar flares can disrupt some electronics?” Johnny said one day, excited to teach his dad yet another brand new fact.

“No, that’s very interesting. “ His dad was focusing on the weather forecast. He wanted to be prepared for the storm.

 “Yeah, just had one this September, it knocked out some power.” The little boy’s eyes looked earnestly into his dad’s.

“That’s right, but there’s something else that can make us lose power, something that’s coming very soon.”

“The hurricane?” Johnny had been learning about hurricanes since there had been so many this year. Just days earlier he had read an article detailing how hurricanes are formed, and how organizations such as NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, predict the severity and path of a hurricane with extreme accuracy.

“That’s right, it shouldn’t be too serious, but we could lose power for a while. Anyways, it’s time for bed, I’ll tuck you in.”

***

At work, Patrick was looking over the reports. Every day, he would check and double-check them, just to be sure. At this particular moment, he was focusing on the Mark’s report, another meteorologist, and found that he had inputted the wrong data into one of the computers. As a result, there was an inconsistency in the predictions of two modeling computers, and Patrick was not happy about it.

“Mr. Johnson!” Patrick yelled across the room at Mark, who was having a discussion with his friends about the Orioles. “This type of mistake isn’t even reasonable. You were looking at last year’s forecasts and discussing this year’s possible hurricane!” Patrick nearly shouted the last word, and got the entire room’s attention.

“Sorry, I guess I just wasn’t paying that much attention. It’s no big deal really, I mean everyone makes mistakes, you caught it, so no harm done, right?”

“That’s not the issue here. We’re meteorologists, Mr. Johnson, and at times like these we have got to have our act together. Plus, it’s my reputation on the line, so this kind of thing will not be tolerated a second time. Understood?”

“Loud and clear.” Mark returned to his desk, annoyed at the pointless interruption.

Patrick continued leafing through the discussion papers for any more egregious errors.                                               

***

There was just six hours left before the hurricane was set to make landfall and little Johnny was looking excitedly out his window with furrowed eyebrows waiting for the sky to turn dark, and for the terrible storm to come. Johnny’s parents were in the room, watching the news.

               The state was holding its breath, waiting for the storm to strike. NOAA had reported that it would hit the D.C. area, but it wouldn’t gain enough energy to cause any major damage. Johnny’s parents looked over at their son and smiled. They were not overprotective, but had there been the smallest hint of danger, Johnny would have been a hundred miles away.

***

            The storm was here. Patrick and the rest of the crew were busy in their office, monitoring the storm, and working with officials to keep people safe. It was times like these when people needed their weathermen the most, and it was times like these that Patrick relished. He loved the fact that at times like this his perfectionism was respected among the people.

            As a child, he was ostracized for his need for everything to be perfect. However, he didn’t get to be the head meteorologist by being complacent and inattentive. What had gotten him through the first 22 hurricanes of the season was what would get him through this one.

It was so far so good. The sea levels hadn’t risen too much, and the winds were still low. The worst was yet to come, but it wasn’t going to get much worse. Patrick was content. He had gotten all the people out of the danger areas, and had saved thousands of others from needless evacuation. It was another job well done.

***

            There was panic in the office; yells, screams and chaos. Patrick had lost all control. The storm was worse than anticipated, much worse. Whole towns, predicted to be safe, were submerged under five feet of water. The winds had picked up, and the people panicked when windows started breaking, and trees started falling. There were 5 million people living in the direct vicinity of the storm path, who Patrick had told were completely safe. The team was frantically trying to get people to evacuate.

All the while, Patrick was wondering how this could have happened, how he could have screwed up this badly. He looked over all the models, and found that they all pointed to the same thing; a relatively mild storm, larger than just a thunderstorm, but much smaller than the one currently battering the Eastern seaboard. Nobody had even the slightest clue how the disparity could have been overlooked. Patrick even reviewed the raw data, and everything looked okay; the pressure was not too low, the temperature was not too high, and the currents were exactly as he had thought. It was not anomalous that Wilson was wreaking havoc on the United States, it was impossible.
            “Mr. Hughes, I’ve got something!” It was Mark, running across the room to Patrick’s desk, and handing him a piece of paper. It was the Mark’s report with the wrong date. “I’ve figured it out.” He was breathing heavily and looking excitedly with wide-eyes at Patrick and back at his document.
           “What is it?”
            “The date was wrong, and I didn’t catch it, but everyone else did, so they changed it!” Mark was speaking rapidly and gasping out his words.
           “So?”
           “There was a solar flare… last week.” Mark regained his composure as he tried to catch his breath.
            “Once again, so? Solar flares don’t cause hurricanes.” Patrick was growing more exasperated, he had work to do, especially now.
            “That doesn’t matter. The flare knocked out power between latitudes 25 degrees north and 31 degrees south and 79 degrees and 73 degrees west longitude. A satellite lost power, a weather satellite, and until another one began collecting data in its place, nothing was recorded. The system reset, that’s why the date was wrong, everyone else saw it and corrected it, thinking it was a computer mistake. For six and a half hours, there was no weather data collected about conditions in the mid-Atlantic from the satellites. We missed the butterfly’s flap.”
           “Why wasn’t I notified about this?”
           “Power was out. No email or phone. Didn’t you know? It was all over the news the next day.” Patrick knew what the missing data would reveal; warm equatorial currents bolstering the storm into a category one hurricane.
   Mark was right. It had been all over the news, but at that time Patrick didn’t care. His job was to focus on meteorological events right-now, not far-off astronomical events. There were no butterflies in space.
              There was nothing any of them could do, except keep telling the government to urge people to evacuate before the storm got any worse, and take phone calls from officials who were confused, panicked, and angry. At least Patrick could live in the chaos for the moment, but once it subsided, all eyes would be on the meteorologists who assured everyone there was no real danger. All eyes would be on him.

***

           The storm was finally over. Nearly fifty billion dollars’ worth of buildings and homes were destroyed, and worse, Patrick had said the storm wouldn't kill anyone. All, in all, twenty-eight people died in the disaster that struck the east coast. An investigation was launched into the meteorologists of D.C., but the solar flare was excuse enough to get them off the hook.
           Mr. Smith was reading about the whole incident on his computer. Their house had been flooded and collapsed, but luckily he and his wife were near the doorway when they saw the ceiling cave in. A bitter smile was etched on his lips as he read about the solar flare, and the fact that a single email one day after would have supplied the necessary information to evacuate everyone safely. Patrick Hughes was responsible for the disaster that occurred, and Mr. Smith would remember that for the rest of his life even if the rest of the world moved on.
           “It’s time to go.” Mrs. Smith walked down the stairs in her black dress.
           “I’m ready.” Mr. Smith replied, with tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “I’ll miss him.”           
           “I know honey, I will too.” Her voice choked up for a second, but she held it back, and walked out the door, hand in Mr. Smith’s, to attend Jonathan Smith’s funeral service, with her  simple butterfly earrings dangling by her ears.