We're doomed! Doomed, I tells ya!

That's my measured takeaway from the feds' Fourth National Climate Assessment, dropped into the black hole of Black Friday. Temperatures are rising, along with sea levels. Storms are growing more severe; so, too, are droughts. And if we don't stop greenhouse-gassing this planet to death now — fine, tomorrow at the latest — that, as they say, is that. There goes the environment, the economy, the food, the everything.

We're fried. Boiled and broiled, too.

Good news — I guess? — is we live in a city that is already preparing for the worst-case scenarios.

First, I direct your attention to Dallas Water Utilities' Long Range Water Supply Plan, finalized in December 2015. Says the 484-page document, by 2070 it's likely 13 percent of our water supply dries up — not because of the rising population that will guzzle from our reservoirs, but because of warming.

"We factored in a 7-degree rise in temperature over the next 50 years due to climate change impacts," DWU director Terry Lowery said Monday.

I had the water supply plan on my screen Monday while I was interviewing Far North Dallas council member Sandy Greyson, chair of the Quality of Life committee. She saw the 7-degree spike and blurted, "That's terrifying."

Believe it, even if President Donald Trump cannot or simply will not — as though climate change were a religion. Believe it because the congressionally mandated National Climate Assessment, assembled by 300 scientists, says so. Believe it because 13 federal agencies, among them NASA and the Department of Defense and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, signed off on it.

The report says you can't really debate the causes of climate change: "Earth's climate is now changing faster than at any point in the history of modern civilization," begins the National Climate Assessment, "primarily as a result of human activities."

And you can't ignore climate change's consequences. Because we already live them.

"During excessive heat in July 2011, downtown Dallas experienced late-evening temperatures 6.1°F higher than rural Kaufman, Texas, 36 miles away." That's from the assessment, Chapt. 23, S. Great Plains.

The temperature stat is nothing new. It first appeared in 2013, in the report The Urban Heat Island of the North-Central Texas Region and Its Relation to the 2011 Severe Texas Drought, co-authored by University of Texas at Arlington associate oceanography professor Arne Winguth and researcher Brandi Kelp. The urban-rural differential showed up again in 2015, in a report titled Climate Change/Extreme Weather Vulnerability and Risk Assessment for Transportation Infrastructure in Dallas and Tarrant Counties, by the North Central Texas Council of Governments.

We've known, too, that our water supply is imperiled, by the threat of both increased drought and population, as the report notes. And that our 100-year floods are "likely to become more common." And that we're using more electricity than ever to stay cool during chart-busting summers. And that hurricanes and hailstorms are growing more intense, causing billions in damages. And that our roads and bridges, already "structurally deficient or functionally obsolete," will be further battered by our Jekyll-and-Hyde weather.

"What's unique about the assessment is you're seeing the whole puzzle assembled, and it shows that here in Texas, we're more vulnerable than any other state to climate and natural disasters," said Texas Tech climate scientist Katharine Hayhoe, who helped author the report. "And climate change is exacerbating that risk."

And since Washington won't do anything about it, it's up to cities to try to keep this planet from turning to dust and ash, be it through water-conservation efforts, the planting of trees, the further spread of mass transit. The report says as much: Cities will bear 70 percent of the costs now or pay 100 percent of the price later.

"In the absence of things being done at the state and federal levels," said James McGuire, head of Dallas' Office of Environmental Quality, "we have the responsibility to step forward and mitigate climate change."

To that end, Dallas City Hall, partnering with the likes of the Nature Conservancy, the Texas Trees Foundation, the Trust for Public Land and others, has countless initiatives intended to clean the air and cool the air or measure the quality of the air.

There's Breathe Easy Dallas, which will study the air quality around some Dallas ISD schools and see whether kids are missing classes because of asthma-related problems. And Branch Out Dallas, which is giving away trees to all comers. And the Green Construction Ordinance, which encourages "sustainability through energy efficiency, water conservation and resource reuse."

After almost no rain this summer, Dallas had record-breaking rain in October. That, folks, is climate change. (Nathan Hunsinger / Staff Photographer)

Dallas, too, is the nation's largest muni using renewable energy, per the Environmental Protection Agency. And at this very moment, city staff is interviewing short-listed vendors who want to assemble the city's first-ever Comprehensive Environmental Action Plan, for which Greyson secured $500,000 in the current budget. A winner could be picked before week's end.

And lest we forget: Mike Rawlings is one of the 407 U.S. mayors who have vowed to abide by the Paris Climate Agreement that Trump tossed aside.

But Dallas, which hasn't had clean or healthy air for years, can only do so much. And it's not enough.

Susan Alvarez, also in the Office of Environmental Quality, said Monday that the city reduced its greenhouse gas emissions 39 percent from 1990 to 2015. Which is great. Except ... the city government's emissions make up a fraction of a fraction of the so-called community emissions — the community being the 385 square miles that make up this city.

And the community's emissions have increased 16 percent over the same period.

I told McGuire, the city's environmental chief, that I'm not sure this city can plant enough trees fast enough to stop what sounds like the inevitable apocalyptic tomorrows laid out in the feds' climate assessment. He said I was being "fatalistic." Yeah. That sounds about right.

That's because the climate assessment is not just a peek into our possible future. It's a horror story describing our right-now. But it also offers us the option to write our own ending.

"If cities can put a dent in the problem, they have to try," Greyson said, as ever the optimist refusing to accept that doomsday is around the corner. "We have to try."