The Water Pressure Manager

I've been lazy so I'm scouring my hard drive for any stories that I wrote in the past. This one was for English class and every line had to have dialogue, so there are no descriptions beside what the characters give. Enjoy if you can, I don't think its that good.

The Water Pressure Manager

The radio static emitted from the intercom suspended on a rope attached to the ceiling erupted into a stream of intelligible speech, the voice of the one of the commanders of the underwater city: “WPM, water pressure levels are too high. Adjust valve twenty-four to a stable 42 psi. You know we can’t stay safe from the water from leaking from the ocean above into the city if you keep making mistakes.”
The Water Pressure Manager grunted back, “Can’t you at least give me enough respect to call me by my full title? You may be commander of the city, but I have my rights and those are to be respected.”
Angered at the statements of the WPM, the commander said, “I control this city. I can decide whatever I want, and if you say such nonsense once more, I’ll send you back to the mines.”
“Fine,” said the WPM, shaken by the threat, “I’ll do anything to keep out of those—those vile slave pits. I don’t believe those awful coal mines fit within the law, or anywhere near it.”
After a few more hours of groping in the cold, dank water ducts, turning valves and fixing old leaks, the WPM finally collapsed to the ground seeing his shift was over, sighing, “Well, that’s all for today.”
Just then a young man burst in, shouting, “Hello, sir!” as he walked over to the WPM, “My name is James Wilson. I’m going to guide you to your new sleeping chambers.”
They soon arrived at a room with a sign saying ‘WPM’s quarters’, so James announced “We are here, sir!” as if it weren’t blatantly obvious. As they stepped into the small room, James said “This a swell place,” to the bland decor, poor lighting, and toxic-looking liquids dripping out of a pipe apparently coming out of the mines.
The WPM looked at him bitterly, saying, “You think this entire city is wonderful, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course, sir!” James replied, shocked that anyone could suggest that it was possible to dislike the city.
“Well,” the WPM asked in scornful tone, “What is there to like about this place?”
James grew more shocked, insisting, “There are high paying jobs in the country, free food, accommodations…”
“The jobs are torturous slave labor with your precious high pay going into the highest taxes in the country,” the WPM said harshly, “the food is little more than the most putrid garbage of the rich commanders, and these rooms are practically jail cells.”
“I never thought of it that way,” stuttered James, shocked at the insults to his city.
“Those rich commanders in power live a good life at our expense,” the WPM growled with constantly increasing anger, “They portray themselves as heroes, who worked hard. That is all a lie! They got as high as they are by forcing us to work in the mines while we work hard getting nothing ourselves.”
“If you say so, sir,” said James, still startled at the outburst.
“Can you actually enjoy life in a miserable, dank, depressing place such as this?” shouted the WPM, nearly screaming.
James thought about it for a while, realizing the city might not be all the great things he was taught in his childhood, eventually admitting, “Yes, it is bad, but what can we do about it?”
“The exits to the city,” said the WPM, delighted to have an audience, “the water ducts: who controls them?”
“The WPM,” said James as realization hit him, “You, sir!”
“Would you care to help me escape?”
James grew cautious, saying, “What of the risks? What of my family? I would never see them again,”
“Do you expect to see them again anyway? The government wouldn’t want you to see your family, for fear you would stop working as hard to help them. If they died in the mines, do you expect the government would tell you?”
“I don’t know, sir. Give me a few days to think about it.”
“Every day the risk grows; will you come or not?” The assistant remained silent, so the WPM whispered, “All you have to do is short out the security systems as I open the ducts. I have a subaquatic rocket ready to go; I stole it several years ago.
“All right, so we will do it tomorrow morning at 10:30, as I believe your shift starts,” to which the WMP nodded in agreement. The next morning at 10:26, the WPM was greeted by the voice of the commander, “Listen, you WPM. I expect there to be no problems at all. Got it?” As the voice faded away, the WPM cackled, “Oh yes, no problems at all. Just a system failure, that’s all,”
As on cue, the security systems and electricity shut down, so the WPM called James on his radio, “Hurry. They’ll have the power fixed in a matter of minutes. I’ve got an entrance nearly made”
Several minutes later, on backup power, a voice came over the intercom: “There was a major breach in the system! You are to be put to death for your disobedience. Answer me immediately, or we will torture you, too,” but there was no answer; and never was there an answer.