ACIUCI
CHAPTER 1: THE DISAPPEARING AQUIFER
The digital thermometer above the entrance to the Hydrogeological Monitoring Center read ninety degrees. It was nine in the morning, mid-March. Elena Vieri stepped off the number 33 bus, feeling the weight of the stagnant humidity pinning her linen shirt to her shoulder blades. The fabric, already damp with acidic sweat, chafed her skin-a sandpaper sensation that accompanied her every step toward the automated gate. Bologna, seen from Viale Silvani, looked bleached, the colors of the buildings flayed by the glare of a sun that shouldn't have possessed such strength, not yet.
The air smelled of ozone and scorched rubber. A few blocks away, a transformer had exploded during the night, overloaded by air conditioners humming out of season, and the acrid stench of molten plastic stagnated between the porticoes. Elena swiped her badge. The hum of the optical reader was followed by a sharp metallic click, a sound that made her dental fillings vibrate.
Entering the Center offered no relief. The HVAC system was set to economy mode by ministerial directive; the air inside was still, saturated with a chemical vapor that smelled of chloroform and substandard industrial cleaners. Elena wiped her forehead with her sleeve, feeling the cold damp of the cotton against her overheated skin.
"Vieri, you're late. The sensors in the Reno basin have been throwing fit for three hours," croaked the voice of the disgruntled watchman behind the laminated glass.