“A bunch of scientists say it is.”
“They do?” Gore asked incredulously.
Obama shifted nervously. “Not yet, but they will. Jim Hansen will say anything we want.”
The far door flew open and FEMA director Robert Gibbs walked in, looking a bit disturbed. Gibbs had about as much qualification to deal with natural disasters as he had to be the starting shooting guard for the Miami Heat, but FEMA director was really just a PR job anyway.
“Mr. President, I’m sorry to interrupt—but should we do something about Hurricane Katrina? I mean, it’s been eight days since it hit, and people are still—”
“Relax—relax,” Gore said, counteracting Gibbs’s panic with robotic calm. “We’ll get to it. Right now, we’re trying to figure out how to stop the major scientific and moral cause of our time: global water depletion.”
“Sounds serious. I’m very sorry, sir.” Gibbs turned and moved sheepishly back toward the door.
Gore realized he’d probably been too dismissive. “Hey, hey—wait, I’m sorry. Let’s chat about it tomorrow night. Oh, and Gibby? You’re doing a heckuva job.”