Cloning Galinda

Al Morton worked the chemicals. He was the man who cooked up and tested the various brews that, once blended, became a heavy mush. Supren pumped it down the pipes a mile or more deep at pressures two-hundred times as high as that in a car’s tires to do the fracking there. Joe was convinced Al had to know, more or less, what that gelatinous mixture was. Water and sand, of course, and what else? Joe didn’t want to look like a fool or ignoramus when he faced Doyle. He had to sound a little smarter than an idiot complaining about rotten eggs. Mary had read and heard about so many chemicals being mixed into that viscous stream. “I worry about much more than bad odors,” she had told Joe repeatedly with an eye roll. “Those chemicals and those dangerous pressures.” He knocked on the door of the lab van around six and entered. Al, a grumpy-looking man around fifty, heavyset and puffing, looked up from his screen with a surprised expression. But he produced a big smile as soon as he recognized his unusual visitor so early in the morning. “What the hell! Joe! You must need something real bad!” he joked as he looked at his watch. “Or did Mary kick you out of bed?” In a way, that was what Mary had done. With gentle persuasion and good reason. “You guessed it, man. Want to see the bruises?” Al snickered. “What’s up, buddy?” While they traded jabs, Joe stared at a collection of strangely marked plastic containers surrounding Al’s barren work area. “It’s my cough, man. Getting worse. Mary’s getting very concerned. Me too. The kids are bugging me. Hell, I don’t need any damn doctor. I know it’s that rotten egg stuff that’s killing me. I’m going to talk to the new guy and―” “Good luck, bud. I hear…well, I haven’t talked to him myself. Change, new bosses—it’s always hard and dangerous for us peons. But….” Al didn’t go on. His eyes showed concern and doubt. His raised, open palms told Joe that he wasn’t going to get involved in that delicate discussion with the new chief. Joe nodded and raised his own hand. “I get it, don’t worry,” he said. “I came very early. Few people around. My lips will be sealed, but, well, you’re adding all kinds of chemical stuff. We all know you do. Much of that it is secret. Know that too. I don’t want to get you into any trouble, but could you just tell me the names of the chemicals that are really bad for me?” “For all of us.” Al wrinkled his nose and showed big eyes. “Of course, but I’m the one snuffing more of them than anybody else.” “I know you are. I get my share too. Okay, names.” Al sighed. “If I knew.” “You don’t? I hear some are regularly used by other industries, even the food―” “See all those bloody markings on the plastic?” “I do.” “Code. All code. Chinese for me. All that crap here is code, man. I could give you the names of a few run of the mill chemicals we use, but they won’t harm you, and you probably would forget them anyway. What I do know is that some of the shit we pump down is used in cars. Diesel. Some you can eat, I’m told; some are used by dry cleaners and painters or in camping stoves; some of them carry the fancy name of ‘inorganic salt,’ whatever that is. I can go on but I can’t make you any wiser, because dumb Al simply doesn’t know. This roughneck just follows the manuals, or else.” He threw up his hands and stared at his early visitor. Joe pursed his lips. He might as well have slept an hour longer, but Al was an honest person and a friend. “I’d better get out of here,” he said. “Thank you and sorry for bothering.” “Anytime, buddy. Give my regards to Mary and don’t talk to anybody here. Just walk away like you’re in a big hurry. I know you’re not. I wouldn’t if I were on my way to that Doyle!”