The future is dystopian in the world of cyberpunk. No matter the location, there is a general sense of disaster, either spoken or unspoken. The air is begrimed, the water befouled, and a myriad trace toxins are found everywhere. Despite that, there always seems to be enough water.

World Water Day was Sunday, March 22nd. The central theme is that of transboundary waters and the recognition that the need for water is univeral among all humanity despite national (or even local) boundaries. But issues of water seem somewhat abstract and the shortage of water something that merely needs a technological helping hand. Even the omnipresent rain in Bladerunner, despite its toxicity (as stated in the script, as compared to Philip K. Dick’s book, “The morning air, spilling over with radioactive motes, gray and sun-beclouding, belched about him…”), comes out of the taps cleanly. At least, it seems to, since we rarely see the omnipresence of plastic bottles of purified water, samovars or kettles of boiling water or all the other accoutrements prevalent in the third world where even municipal water supplies are not considered suitable for drinking. Certainly, few cyberpunk protagonists are ever laid up with giardiasis, cholera, amebiasis or any of the other ills of impure water.

A spinner on a rainy street in Bladerunner
The few novels that do mention water are typically those where it forms some part of the plot, being either recent (Ian McDonald’s River of Gods) or are more of the proto-cyberpunk camp (J.G. Ballard’s The Burning World (AKA The Drought) and John Brunner’s The Sheep Look Up). However, the former seems more an echo of already existing issues and the latter two books have environmental disaster as their primary focus, being eco-disaster novels like many others of that era.
Despite not being a cyberpunk novel, The Burning World sounds more prescient than most, despite the novel having been published in 1964:
“Johnstone brushed aside the money with the barrel of the shot-gun. ‘We take no cash for water here, son. You can’t buy off the droughts of this world, you have to fight them. You should have stayed where you were, in your own home.’”
I think this assumption of the ready availability of water or the human organism’s adaptation to bad water that cyberpunk comes across as dismissive of the realities of the dystopia that’s being projected. If you’ve never lived in a dust bowl, grown up in a slum like Dharavi, or otherwise been impacted by a lack of water simply for drinking and bathing, it’s very easy to give short shrift to the problem or to gloss over it (something along the lines of the author saying, “the whole world’s going to hell, so I can be vague”). It’s the contrast between much of cyberpunk literature and a literary movement like Afrocentrism. The baseline assumptions seem fundamentally different and even the protagonist’s basic needs and goals are fundamentally altered.
Even if the wars of the future aren’t over water, many of cyberpunk’s tropes play themselves out in the way issues of water management and allocation play themselves out. The corporate privatization of water by multinational companies has a very mixed success rate, but could have a dramatic impact on the daily life of people all over the world.