Sat Mar 17 2012

Sat Mar 17 2072 Zero Hour, Barstow. The Mojave river has flowed clean and pure for three days, the waters cold and welcome. Mana rich, the river has brought life where it touches. Already, reeds and trees are growing along the banks and the river teems with fish. Children play in the water and there is already talk of what the river could mean to Barstow. It would transform Barstow from a lonely little stopover to a regional presence, simply by having its own water, able to export it and use it. Agriculture could flourish. There is not enough to power a city like Los Angeles, but there is enough here to lift the lives of 50,000 people in Barstow… and support the estimated 200,000 refugees that live in the Mojave Basin. Frost returns - this time driving a car across the Mojave River Bridge. Stepping out, he removes his shades and looks over the police cars and Cal Guard that greet him. "All this, just for me? I'm touched." He says, lips tracing a bit of a grin. The city council of Barstow, along with the Mayor, steps forward. Major Jim Hawking watches as Frost approaches. "Alright. You got our attention." "Thats good. I'm not sure what else could be done to get your attention if this…" Frost gestures to the water as it flows… "Did not. Do you have an answer?" "We run the numbers. We can't take them all. Just too many." "Oh. Don't worry about them -all-. Just… the ones who will not relocate to Las Vegas. That is already handled." "How many you thinking?" "Fifty thousand, no more." "And the water flows and the winds don't hit Barstow? You can promise that?" "Me? No. I'm just a voice. A mouth piece. But my backers can. My friends. They will ensure that Barstow… for 15 miles from this spot… will never see an adverse wind again… and that the Mojave river flows year round with this quality. Do not pollute it, do not try to take more from it than it will give… and your flow is assured." "Then we'll take your people." "I know. The first will arrive in a months time. Try to build some shelters."