CHAPTER SIX — THE ROOM FULL OF FAUCETS

Thirty-one residents arrived at the library meeting room that evening.
Some carried water bills, some carried photographs, and several carried bottled water because they no longer trusted what came from their taps.
June sat in the front row with a notebook and a pencil sharpened to a point.
Mason and Imani Parker stood near the door, taking turns checking a message from the neighbor watching their children.
Carol entered last.
Conversation stopped as she approached an empty chair.
She sat at the back without speaking.
Lena introduced a city utility superintendent named Harlan Moss,

who explained what had been found in the lines.
The small flexible inserts did not have any legitimate role in the household distribution connections where crews had recovered them.
Their effect varied with household demand, and several had restricted flow or contributed to pressure fluctuations.
The city had not approved their installation.
The superintendent did not claim that every reported appliance problem had the same cause.
Each household would receive a separate inspection and written findings.
A woman in the second row raised her hand.
“Are we safe to drink the water?”
Harlan said current samples had not indicated a contamination event,

but testing continued and anyone under an advisory would be contacted directly.
He asked residents not to rely on rumors or unofficial online posts.
“That’s easy to say when your dishes are getting washed,” June muttered.
Rachel heard her and spoke into the microphone.
“Can the city give everyone a specific point of contact instead of telling us to wait?”
Harlan agreed to publish a dedicated number and a named supervisor by the next morning.
“And an emergency contact for tonight,” Rachel added.
He wrote it on the board immediately.

Then a man named Dennis Wren stood up.
He ran a small home bakery on the east side of the street, and he had thrown away an entire batch of bread when the water pressure dropped during cleaning.
“I paid for a pressure booster because their brochure said older homes wasted water,” he said.
“I thought the problem was mine.”
He held up a receipt for almost nine hundred dollars.
Graham Tuttle had offered to reimburse him only if he signed a statement confirming the demonstration had caused no ongoing harm.
The room erupted.
Lena asked Dennis to give her a copy of the offer.
“I haven’t signed it,” he said.
“I wanted somebody to tell me whether I was being unreasonable.”
Rachel shook her head.
“You aren’t.”
Dennis sat down and stared at the receipt as though it had become heavier.