The Wind Guardian

Chapter 3

Chapter 3The coast here was as magnificent as the Amalfi. Where mountains met ocean at the edge of a continent was always the perfect formula for grandeur and wonderment. It made Cameron recall the first time he saw it, in daylight, white waves crashing in turquoise blue coves, deepening in color to the outer reefs; sea lions lounging on rock inlets, and further out, the occasional spouts of California Grey whales moving with their seasonal migration from Mexico to Alaska. Sloping upward from the ocean were long, emerald-green terraces of tall shore grass, which replicated rows of shimmering silk banisters, diminishing in size until vanishing in the distant haze. Cameron especially liked this time of year, when everything was in bloom. Although it was dark now, he could imagine it vividly. Eastward, where the slopes angled steeply up to the towering coastal mountaintops, emerald green hillsides were brush-stroked with bright yellow lines of mustard flowers.

It was the Great Irony, Cameron thought, entering the Protected Zone. By virtue of the Pacific Alliance Power Company and the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, and all the entry prohibitions that came along with it, the California pelicans, and sea otters, and the red and black abalone, which clung in the tide pools, and all the other wildlife, remained as bountiful as they had been during the time of the Chumash Indians one-hundred years before. It was here the Chumash had lived in harmony with nature for centuries, navigating Pacific currents in their reed-built tomols, building their bent-poled shelters along the coastal terraces, and burying their dead on windswept knolls above the sea. It was a place where the warm Santa Anas swept across the ocean, carving artistic formations in the sandstone cliffs and chattered through the leaves in the sycamore canyons—where wind still whispered through the tall shore grass—oddly enough, all due in thanks to a nuclear power plant!

And thinking of the power plant, Cameron recalled the first time he set eyes on it. He was humming along the access road on his first day to work when suddenly, ahead, there were two enormous white domes. To him it appeared as if Poseidon had misplaced two huge Trojan helmets on the Pacific shoreline. It reminded him of a time he had taken a helicopter ride to the Grand Canyon, flying low toward the South Rim, one-hundred-feet above the tree-tops; then suddenly breaching the rim, the view gave way to a five-thousand foot drop and an awe-inspiring view of the Canyon.

It was the exact same feeling, Cameron thought—Jaw-dropping.

The power plant was indeed a futuristic-looking complex, awkwardly perched at the ocean's edge. Stretching out before the two massive containment domes was the Turbine Building, a structure large enough to house a football field, and nestled in-between was the Auxiliary Building, a multi-terraced, skyscraper-looking structure which served as the 'brains' of the power plant.

A marvel of Modern Technology, Cameron mused.

And from the start, he was mystified by it. Everyone was mystified by it. Building a nuclear power plant on a pristine coast of velvet-waving shore grass seemed as idiotic as painting over a Van Gogh with motor oil. And yet, despite the absurdness of it, the reasoning was undeniably prudent. Ideal was a power plant strategically placed, out of eyesight and earshot of the masses, and isolated far enough from areas of population as to provide a cushion zone in the event of a radiation leak or nuclear disaster. From here there would be time to orchestrate a mass evacuation, should the unlikely necessity arise.

In truth, it was no easy task building a nuclear power plant on a coastal terrace in central California. For the Pacific Alliance Power Company, it had been a battle from the beginning. It rubbed so hard against conventional thought that it instantly confronted a firestorm of hostility. The permitting process was constantly thwarted by legal action brought on by the Sierra Club, Abalone Alliance, and Mothers for Peace. But eventually, with the backing of the federal government, whose new mantra was 'Independence from Middle Eastern oil,' the permits were granted and the power plant was built.

Contingency plans, evacuation plans, coordination plans, of every kind, with every vital agency, were made. Local, state and federal law enforcement agencies, the U.S. Coast Guard, and even local National Guard unit stationed forty-five minutes north, had committed to a quick-response plan to provide immediate assistance for any event, including terrorist threat. In the event of a mass evacuation, letters of agreement were signed with many local businesses and corporations to provide aid and assistance. Local municipalities, as well as Amtrak and Greyhound Bus Lines, signed-on for transportation purposes, and McDonalds Corporation agreed to provide emergency food to a weary population if a mass evacuation became necessary.

A problematic matter was in the winds. The area was known for its Devil Winds—unpredictable winds—sometimes blowing from offshore, sometimes from the land, often converging in flurries and funnels visible at sea. Several tests with balloons never netted the same wind direction. This caused great concern among the scientific authorities who tried to predict, with reasonable consistency, the wind currents for evacuation and planning purposes.

Yet an early warning system was developed based on a 'best guess' scenario of prevailing wind conditions, strategically dissecting the central coast into a twelve-ring “Protective Action Zone” which radiated out from the 'epicenter' of the power plant. Each ring varied in its level of response determined by wind and proximity to the Plant. Tall warning sirens were tactically placed in all neighborhoods, mountainsides, school yards, city streets, and along beaches and highways, throughout the region. Automated gamma ray detectors were positioned along Protective Action Zone Two, a six-mile radius from the Plant, which fed data into a centralized computer which would enact an automated alarm if dangerous levels of radiation were detected. Local media, radio and televisions stations all had pre-scripted instructions; how, where, and when to provide emergency airway information should a Level-One Emergency be enacted.

Orchestrating the efforts was the Nuclear Regulatory Commission through volumes of federal regulations designed to increase safety measures and prevent the possibility of a nuclear disaster. Millions of dollars were expended for earthquake upgrades after fault-lines were discovered just offshore. Back-up power supplies, to ensure the constant pumping of millions of gallons of ocean water to cool the reactors, consisted of no less than six huge diesel generators, a battery room the size of a tennis court, and four separate electric lines traversing the hilltops to a neighboring fossil-fuel plant thirty miles north. The reactor containment domes, standing two-hundred and fifteen feet high and constructed of three-foot thick concrete and steel, were capable of withstanding the impact of a commercial jetliner. A sea wall and huge support braces were built on the western front to handle a sixty-foot tidal wave. P.A.P.C. had even gone so far as to employ marine biologists to take samples from the ocean to monitor the effects of the discharge and ensure the protection of the marine life. In the end, despite many protests and demonstrations, the power plant was built, became operational, and began producing mega-watts of electricity for hungry cities throughout California.

Cameron's little Honda sped over the last hill and down toward the small city of lights, from which rose the two white containment domes of Mal Loma Nuclear Power Plant. He headed directly for the Security Building, which, illuminated brilliantly, hung like a jewel at the southern end of the perimeter fence. He could tell by the number of cars left in the parking lot that the shift change was well underway. It meant his post replacement was still waiting. Speeding into the lit parking lot, he slid in between two large cars. He grabbed his lunch pail, leaped out of the car, and headed for the entrance lobby.