At the U.S. Weather Service, tensions were running high. For a full week, employees hadn’t been able to leave, overwhelmed by back-to-back hurricanes, Helen and Milton. The dormitory was a temporary refuge, but no one really rested there. One employee, guzzling whiskey in the dimly lit room, had just settled into a chair when his pager buzzed. Groaning, he threw on his jacket and trudged to the meeting room.
Inside, the atmosphere was even more tense. A fellow employee was yelling into his cell phone. “You’re leaving me because of this?” he shouted, his voice cracking. After hanging up, he slumped into his chair, looking defeated. “My wife wants a divorce. Says I’m never home.”
The whiskey-drinker, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, stepped in. “What do you need me to do?”
“Compile basic data on Helen and Milton,” came the curt reply. Wind speeds, pressure, rainfall—every detail, painstakingly entered into the system. As he worked through the numbers, he couldn’t help but ask, “What’s all this for?”
The man facing divorce didn’t even look up from his phone. “We’re reconsidering the hurricane’s category.”
“Reconsidering?” The surprise was evident in his voice. “Milton was a Category 3, right?”
“Yeah,” his colleague muttered, lowering his voice. “But the higher-ups are asking if we can bump it down. White House wants to reduce the compensation payout to Florida.”
It clicked in his mind. “Because of DeSantis, right? Republican governor.”
The other man just nodded. Before they could continue, a female colleague burst into the room, her hair frazzled. “Anyone buying me coffee? I’m running on fumes.”
They moved toward the break room, where tired employees were either slumped over their food or sipping weak coffee. On the TV, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis stood on a mountain of debris, giving a speech. Treasure Island was in ruins behind him. One employee scoffed. “He’s probably overestimating the damage to get more compensation.”
Laughter followed, with a few half-hearted boos echoing around the room. “Treasure hunter,” someone muttered, the nickname sticking as DeSantis continued his speech. But for the three colleagues, the weight of what was unfolding outside felt heavy. Compromising storm data for politics didn’t sit well with any of them. The only question left was what would they do about it.
All names of people and organizations appearing in this story are pseudonyms.
Hurricane Milton costs Florida billions in damage and wreaks havoc on countless lives
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