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Long ago and far away, there was a river. 

The river wound down from high in the mountains, bringing with it the chill of the snowy peaks that melted in springtime. The river continued through hills as it flowed out onto the plains and from there, eventually, to the ocean.

At a particular spot the river rushed down quickly over a few remaining rapids before slowly easing into a more meandering and flat course. 

For as long as anyone could remember, and before even then, salmon had swam up the river into the crags and highlands during the fall, returning from the great ocean, so that they could lay their eggs. 

And every year the eggs would hatch, and the smolt would follow the great river back out to the ocean. In time, some would return, but not all, to start the cycle again.

Sometimes, when the winter brought with it deep snowfall, the spring melt would be more than the banks of the river could hold. Other times, a storm would come in from the warm ocean and it would rain more than had been seen in years. And other years there would be less snowfall, less snowmelt, less water flowing in the river. For nothing was permanent.  

They came the engineers and architects. They decided to divert the flow of the river into a mill, because they were industrious. They dammed the river, creating a lake so that no matter the season there would always be water for the mill. They controlled the flow of water, so that there would no longer be flooding.

The salmon no longer traveled up past the dam. The fishing spots high up in the mountains were forgotten. They laid their eggs in the meandering streams on the plains and the fishermen followed them there, because fishermen go where the fish are. But some said the salmon were lazier and easier to catch, because they no longer were born with the spirit of the mountains inside of them.

The mill brought prosperity because that’s what the engineers and architects wanted it to do. Wealth was created. The wealthy realized that the lake was cool far into the summer, because it still held the chill from the snowmelt. People came from far and wide to live along the lake and enjoy a good life.

People were happy.

And then things changed.

Slowly at first, and then all at once.

Those crazy enough to still go up into the mountains, despite there being nothing but birds and trees and wild animals, reported seeing less snow than their grandfathers had told them. But who believes stories told by grandfathers? 

The heavy storms that came up from the ocean full of warm rain came less frequently. 

The lake kept less of its refreshing chill into the summer.

The engineers and architects who ran the mill wanted to prioritize releasing flows of water for the mill, because that created wealth. 

Those that lived on the lake and enjoyed its good life were angry that the water would be wasted on the mill, even though they came after the mill.

Some of the engineers and architects even believed that more industry was the solution, that just as their forefathers had conquered the river, they could conquer the weather and force it to rain.

The fishermen saw salmon dying in the dried up riverbeds as the trickle of water released from the mill was insufficient to keep the rivers alive. They worried the salmon would stop returning.

People were not happy. They were angry.