Greed, Politics and the Biggest Oil Boom in Decades

In 2007, Oklahoma had one earthquake. Last year, there were more than 900. What happened?

In 2007, Oklahoma had one earthquake of magnitude 3–the lowest level at which they can usually be felt–or higher. Last year, there were 907. The state now has more 3-plus earthquakes than California and is on pace to have twice as many magnitude-4 quakes as in all of 2015. Of the 12 largest tremors in the state’s history, 10 have occurred since 2011. Four have struck since November, including the third largest, a 5.1 tremor that hit outside Fairview on Feb. 13. The town has felt more than 50 quakes since then.

No place in the world has ever experienced earthquakes at such a rate in such a short time, let alone somewhere wholly unprepared for them. As a result, a state accustomed to dodging tornadoes is scrambling to get a handle on a destructive force of a completely different nature. Many residents now download earthquake-tracker apps–the state’s two largest newspapers have launched online maps–and try to predict the strength of nearby quakes on Facebook (closest guess wins bragging rights). Schools have begun conducting quake-preparedness drills. Interest in earthquake insurance–if residents can get it–has skyrocketed, while property values for those living near fault lines have plummeted. It’s gotten so bad that some are considering something more reminiscent of Tom Joad’s time: leaving the state altogether.

At the center of it all is what virtually everything in Oklahoma has revolved around since statehood: oil and gas. The energy business indirectly accounts for 1 in 5 jobs around the state and roughly 10% of its GDP. Oklahoma City’s tallest buildings are named for oil and gas companies. The state’s sports stadiums bear the names of energy firms and their billionaire founders. Even the state capitol sits atop a giant oil field, surrounded by pump-jacks dipping their beaks into the earth below. Energy makes or breaks Oklahoma. And right now, it’s breaking it.

Following years of denials, state officials finally acknowledged last April what scientists had been saying publicly for some time: Oklahoma’s transformation into a seismic hot zone is connected to its most important industry. From 2010 to 2014, oil production in the state nearly doubled and natural gas grew by almost 50%, according to the research firm RegionTrack. New drilling technologies made it possible to extract oil from sites once considered too watery, while the soaring price of crude made it worth the hassle. But it turns out that disposal wells, which inject back into the earth the salty wastewater that comes to the surface alongside oil and gas, have been lubricating the fault lines buried deep beneath the prairie floor. Those shifting faults have led to so many earthquakes that the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) tells TIME it plans to issue a new hazard map in late March that ranks Oklahoma as one of the most quake-prone states in the nation. On earlier maps, Oklahoma was a seismic afterthought.

But after its steady rise, the price of oil has fallen to $30, thanks to decreased demand and a global supply glut. And the downturn is being felt particularly hard in the Sooner State. Large energy companies have laid off thousands of employees. Smaller outfits are losing money on every barrel. Chesapeake–which put its name on the Thunder’s downtown arena–lost 80% of its value in the past year. Businesses that depended on the sector are suffering as a result. Greco Motors, near Oklahoma City, said it has gone from selling one car a day to 12 a month.

As nearly any longtime resident will proudly tell you, Oklahoma has weathered busts before. But there is a big difference between the current climate and the 1980s, the last time the price of oil tanked so rapidly. In addition to lost jobs and shrinking 401(k)s, Oklahomans now have to contend with the ground shaking beneath their feet. The energy boom may be over, but the man-made geological mess it created has gotten worse.

“You have scientists warning us that a big one is coming,” says Spotts, who became a vocal industry critic when an oil well showed up within 900 ft. of her house. “The more we shake, the worse it’s going to get. It’s coming.”

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