by Michael S. Webster
Caleb swept his flashlight around the water heater. “Do you know how old it
is?”
Michael shifted his weight, anxiously gripping his metal cane. “It was replaced
about 15 years ago. It replaced my industrial hot water heater,” he said
chuckling. “100 gallons of hot water bliss.”
“That bliss probably ended when you saw the gas bill?” asked Caleb.
“Pretty much,” agreed Michael.
“15 years,” sighed the tech. “That’s a long time for a water heater. Especially with the hard water you have here. The inlet pipe is encrusted in calcium deposits.”
“It is pretty hard. The taste is worse though,” Michael chuckled. “When I was stationed in Germany, the water was so hard, you could get a concussion just taking a shower.”
Caleb laughed. The flashlight moved down the cylinder. The light illuminated spots of rust on the seams.
“The rust along the seams could just be condensation,” Caleb shook his head, not convinced. “Or humidity. Either way, it’s not a good sign. The rust will weaken the seam, making it easier to blow.”
Water stains were around the legs, which were definitely rusted. The pressure relief valve was just above, and there were crusts of calcium on it and under it. Briefly lifting the lever, a stream trickled out and ran to the drain in the concrete floor.
“The pressure relief valve is clogged. Not good.”
“How ‘not good’?” asked Michael.
“It keeps a water heater from becoming a bomb.”
“If it did blow, then MAYBE my home insurance company would help.”
“Yeah, they’re not good with preventative purposes,” shrugged Caleb. “It might not blow up today…”
“’No boom today. Boom tomorrow,’” quoted Michael. “’Always boom tomorrow.’”
Caleb chuckled. “A Babylon 5 fan, I see.”
“Absofragginlutely.”
Caleb glanced up at the vent pipe, frowning at the rust creeping along the joints.
Caleb finished the inspection and returned his tools to his bag. His eyes fell onto the mushrooms growing in the shadows. He started to look closer at one mushroom. It wasn’t brown like the others—it was luminescent…
“What’s the verdict?” asked Michael, preparing for the worst possible scenario.
Distracted from the mushroom, Caleb stood up and sighed. “I have good news and bad news.”
Michael sighed. “Let’s go upstairs and you can give me the pain.” Michael quickly hobbled up the stairs to the kitchen.
Caleb followed and took a chair at the kitchen table.
Michael sat heavily opposite the technician. “So, what’s the bad news?”
“You are going to need a new water heater, the venting has to be replaced, there needs to be an expansion tank. Codes require one now. Your current install predates it.” Caleb slid the tablet over to show what the replacement would involve.
“I can’t say it will fail tomorrow—but I wouldn’t go on vacation.”
“By fail you mean…”
“Boom. Big badda boom.”
Michael chuckled at the Fifth Element reference. The chuckle held more pain than humor. Looking at the cost of the replacement, he visibly winced.
Acknowledging the painful results, “I know. I didn’t charge for the diagnosis and that includes a veteran’s discount.”
“Thanks. Any little bit will help.” Michael passed back the tablet. “Let’s get it scheduled. What’s the good news.”
“Well, once it’s repaired, your basement will dry out, and the mushrooms will quickly die off. “
ù
Those words floated down to the basement and seemed to coalesce around the mushrooms near the failing hot water heater.
The purplish fungus, glowing with an eerie green glow, was noticeably larger. The glow pulsed, getting brighter.
The malicious, feminine voice emanated again from the fungi.
“Nnnnoooot allllooowwwed!”
To be continued…
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