Water Farming
Andres watched his niece, Sandy, working hard a few yards away. He walked through the fields, watching how the intense heat caused the air to shimmer.
He knelt down, inspecting one of the photovoltaic panels sitting in the adobe soil. It was just one of many that sprawled out far into the horizon of his property that absorbed the sun with greater hunger than any crop. He looked out even further out to see the Tijuana river extending seemingly forever.
In the center of the two hundred acres they managed was a large reverse osmosis facility which hummed all day and night. A large intake pipe snaked its way through Andres’s fields, branching out in various directions all the way to the Pacific. Surrounding the facility were large white holding tanks which stored millions of freshwater at any given time.
Andres looked down at his watch and tapped on the watchface to bring up the sensor diagnostics. His dirty thumb scrolled several times on the smooth glass to look through each data point.
Salinity Intake: 32,410 ppm
Brine Discharge: 61,200 ppm
Freshwater Purity: 4 TDS
Four parts per million of total dissolved solids was a good number, even cleaner than the rain water he would collect as a child.
Andres brushed his hand on his shirt, dislodging some of the dust that was collecting on his skin. Although it seemed like the land had dried out, and had died, there were always people hoping to rehabilitate it.
Just then, his watch started vibrating urgently. Sandy must’ve gotten a similar alert because she immediately turned and started running towards the facility.
“Oh no,” he muttered, feeling his heart pound as he went in a slow run towards the facility, with his boots kicking dust up into the air.
Sandy swiped her card against the control room door and rushed inside. She pulled a keyboard out from the side of the server rack and began typing. A small monitor started emitting a long stream of data. Andres came in behind her and noted how the lights had turned red. There was a loud, high-pitched alarm going off, although it was too high for him to hear very well.
“Sandy, report,” his voice was tight. He stood behind her, not sure how to help.
“The pressure is dropping rapidly in the primary hose,” her face continued to be illuminated by the bright monitor. “We’re losing our efficiency fast.”
“The Californian tanker is going to be coming soon,” he looked down at his watch with a growing dread. “Mija, we have just a few hours to fulfill our contract. If we don’t, we’re going to lose a quarter’s worth of revenue.”
“I know that, Tio,” she said shortly. On the monitor, she pulled up a 3D digital twin which mirrored the system with all its pipes and filters.
“Look at this section,” she pointed to one section which was flashing red. “There’s a blockage. Thankfully the pipes aren’t damaged and leaking. But the automated backflush isn’t clearing it either. Something must’ve gotten past the intake filter.”
“So what are we supposed to do?”
“We will need to manually purge the pre-filter housing,” Sandy turned and looked at him with a serious expression. “Blow it out with a full system pressure burst.”
“Manually? So with tools? With my hands?”
“Yes, but,” she paused her warning for a moment. “If the pipe cracks and bursts, the facility is going to be flooded. It won’t be easy to clean it out. We’ll have several weeks of full downtime.”
“But if we don’t, we have downtime right now,” he countered, leaning against the doorway. “That’s no different from being ruined. Give me a plan.”
The pump house was cramped and intensely warm. As he stepped in, he immediately started to feel sweat beading on his forehead. The room smelled salty, like he was in the middle of an aquarium or a seafood restaurant. The main pump was a giant electric motor which was eerily silent.
Andres looked down at his watch, where Sandy’s face was now busy inspecting the pump remotely.
“Look at that valve assembly. The one connected to the cylindrical housing. That is our main purge valve,” she said, her voice tinny and quiet through the watch’s speakers. “Grab a wrench. I’m going to add a bypass to reroute pressure to our other two main pumps. When I give you the signal, you’ll need to crank open that one ninety degrees. It needs to be _exactly_ ninety. If it’s not enough, we won’t clear the blockage. But if it’s too much, the pressure will spike too much and the housing will be shattered.”
Andres reached towards the tools on the wall and picked out a large, meter-long wrench. It felt heavy and firm, something that felt real. He carefully placed it over the valve’s hexagonal nut.
“I’m ready. Just let me know when to do it.”
“I’m bypassing the governors now... rerouting the flow operations... The pressure is building up rapidly now. Tio, be careful. The recoil will give a nasty kick.”
He could hear the pipes around him starting to groan. The metal was being pushed to its limit against the immense water pressure being redirected through their elaborate pipe network. Andres stood his ground and gripped the wrench so tightly his knuckles were turning white.
“Now!” Sandy then yelled.
Andres threw his entire body against the wrench. The valve resisted at first, stuck in place by the intense water pressure. He let out a loud grunt and pushed again. He felt a discomforting pain inch up his back as he exerted himself harder than he had in years.
Then he felt the nut give. He pushed harder. The wrench continued its arc. He could feel the vibrations from the motor’s raw intensity as he continued turning. Then, as he hit ninety-degrees, he stopped.
The purge line blew open so loud that Andres’s ears began to ring. A geyser of brackish water burst out of the discharge pipe and rained down on the concrete floor. There was an immediate stench of dirty seawater from the bottom of the ocean floor assailing his nose. Worse was that he was standing in the middle of it, getting drenched by this spray which was much colder than he anticipated.
Thankfully it soon was over. The gush slowly turned into a trickle and the red emergency lights slowly faded away.
The sudden quiet only made the ringing in his ears more obvious. He was now dripping and covered in dirt. He wanted to wipe his face, but he didn’t have anything clean to use. Sandy came into the small room and looked at him with a large grin.
“The pressure is stable,” she said triumphantly. “Everything is green again.”
Andres let go of the wrench while it was still hanging onto the nut. He took a few stumbling steps backwards and caught himself against the wall. The adrenaline was leaving and he felt an immediate bout of weakness. Still, he felt victorious.
The falling sun caused bright colors of orange and purple in the sky. The solar arrays cast long shadows across the flatlands away from the ocean. The Californian tanker was already out of sight, as the crew was eager to pick up their water, make the payment, and head back home. Now he was just left with the familiar humming of a well-working machinery in a desert that was otherwise silent.
Andres and Sandy sat on the porch of an old farmhouse. He remembered sitting here long ago when he watched the sky with his father for rainclouds which never arrived. He swirled the glass in his hand and looked at it. There weren’t any sediments or color inside. It was pure water.
“The transfer is complete,” Sandy affirmed, looking at a large tablet. “We’re good for another three months, Tio.”
He took a long sip and looked out at the sunset. The water was perfect, tasting like nothing but also everything. It was a taste of his future.
His niece’s eyes sparkled as they reflected the sunlight as she continued checking sensor data on her screen. He looked out at the silent field of solar panels sucking up the last remaining minutes of power. The old farm of his childhood was long gone, but there was still some life here.