by C. A. Farlow
“Boscoe, my boy! How are you?” Lauren dropped to her knees and grabbed the Welsh Corgi around the neck. “You’re looking good.” The dog tried to wash her face and, laughing at the doggy kisses, Lauren rose from the floor.
“Come on, Boscoe, we need to find Sharon.” At the mention of his mistress’ name Boscoe took off down the hall, tearing back around the corner. It was all Lauren could do to keep up. How that dog could move that fast on legs so short was beyond her. He and Sharon were the same. Short legs aside, they both moved with the same boundless energy.
Boscoe made it down three flights of stairs and around several corners before heading down the central hall of the house. Lauren watched his bobbed tail disappear through a doorway and assumed this was the dining room. A sharp bark told her that Boscoe had found his mistress.
Lauren followed him and stopped short. She gasped. A long rectangular room stretched before her. A table that could easily seat thirty people was centered under three wrought iron chandeliers. The chairs, covered in Frasier formal tartan, that represented Sharon’s family, looked elegant and regal. Only one end of the table was in use, set with three place settings of china and crystal, ready for their evening meal.
Lauren let out a breath. “Wow, if you ever wanted to entertain the town, this is the place.”
Laughing at Lauren’s comment, Sharon replied, “Not the town, but we can feed all the ranch hands, and their families at one time. We use this room mostly for board meetings. Now have a seat. I’m starving.”
“Sharon, really, where are your manners? Let her focus on the room so she won’t notice that I burned the béchamel sauce.” Susan wagged a finger at Sharon as she pulled out a chair for her partner.
Lauren sat as well. “I wouldn’t notice if you burned the sauce. I spent five months in Sarawak eating food that was cooked, buried in coals in an open pit. They burned it every time. Those guys weren’t barbeque pit masters, let me tell you.”
“We promise to minimize any charred foods from here on. But the potatoes may be a little dry without the sauce.” Susan’s joking couldn’t hide a hint of embarrassment that Lauren picked up on. Obviously they had lost track of time once Lauren left the kitchen. No wonder Susan's cheeks were so flushed.
“No worries, it looks wonderful, and I’m starving.”
Susan began filling plates. “How were the wilds of Borneo and Sarawak, really? I mean it’s a place out of time, but is the modern world encroaching?”
Lauren chewed on a bit of bison roast before replying. The meat was delicious, tender and rich. “Oh, the usual for the jungle. Hot, wet, bug-invested, fascinating, and frustrating. I enjoyed the trip. We had a good team, the local camp helpers were terrific, and the guides were patient with us outsiders. This is the first time we ever worked that closely with the indigenous people.”
Susan sipped her wine. “Why? You said they always show up when you arrive?”
Sitting back, Lauren let fond memories of the field project wash over her. “Yeah, they do. You would too if strange white people dropped into your world and built a small city. But we try not to create too much disparity amongst the indigenous populations. I look at it like Dr. Seuss’ The Sneetches on the Beaches story.”
Susan spluttered into her wine. “Oh this I’ve gotta hear. You have a Ph.D. and an M.D. and you’re using a kid’s story as your analogy for field work in a fifth-world country?”
“Well, yeah. When we enter their world—we are Sylvester McMonkey McBean with the machine that puts stars on and takes stars off. The tribes are the Sneetches. Before we arrive, no one has a star on their belly. If we give things to some of them…that’s like getting a star…it differentiates them from the rest, and jealousies arise. Everyone sat back to contemplate this vision.” After several more bites, Lauren continued, “We worry that items we provide will disturb tribal dynamics and most of our stuff is unsustainable. If we help one group or give them things, we are potentially impacting the entire culture.”
“So, how do you manage this volatile situation?” Susan was so engrossed in the topic that her plate was forgotten.
“That’s something we continually struggle with. We try to provide services rather than give them things. At this site we built a bridge.”
“No way, a bridge. Really?”
“Really. The tribe was effectively divided into two parts because this huge ravine created a geographic barrier. So we designed and built a bridge to span the ravine. The shamans blessed the bridge and then decorated it in jungle vegetation. After they were done you could barely see that a bridge existed.” Lauren went back to enjoying her roast. “This is really good! It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed such a terrific home cooked meal.”
Susan smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Sharon paused, her fork hovering in front of her mouth. “That all sounds great but what’s the long-term impact of your interactions.”
Lauren wiped her mouth allowing her time to gather her thoughts. “We recognize that most places we visit are out of time and space. This project was a high-priority because the environmental damage was evident. Effluent from a mining operation located upstream of the tribe was potentially contaminating the water and soils. That could have long-term effects…increase in birth defects, retardation of children, cancers. If our results show contamination, the tribes would need to be protected and a clean water supply provided or the tribe would need to be moved until remediation is completed.”
“Don’t tell me. I can see it now. Some company comes in and makes a mess of one of our last virgin rainforests for profit, and then leaves when they’ve ripped all of the commodity out. It’s unacceptable how governments can allow this.” Sharon pushed her plate away.
“It is unacceptable. But that’s what I do at Geodynamics. Help identify environmental issues that force cleanup. Try and make a difference.” Lauren could tell a change of subject was needed as Sharon continued to glare at her plate, her jaw working. “Susan, the potatoes aren’t dry at all.”
“Thanks, Lauren.” Susan looked up at her and shrugged.
Quiet settled over the immense room, broken only by the sound of cutlery on plates and Boscoe’s soft snuffling as he explored under the table for handouts. A telephone rang in the distance and interrupted their meal. Susan jumped up. “I’ll get that. It’s probably the office. I have three patients in recovery.” She left the two as she went to answer the phone.
“Does she ever slow down? Three patients? I thought she was selling her practice,” Lauren mused.
Sharon huffed again. “I know. We’ve been back from Europe for a little over a week, and she is already back at it full time. The owners don’t want her to quit her practice but it’s the furkids she can’t leave.”
Lauren laughed at the term of endearment she always heard Susan use for her animal patients. Susan had explained early in their friendship that May Sarton coined the term in one of her early novels.
Susan hurried back into the dining room. “I’ve got to run down to the office. We’ve got three cats coming in that were in a car accident.”
“Do they know which one was driving?” Sharon inquired dryly.
“None of them were driving. Their mom was.” Susan laughed. “Their car got hit on Rabbit Ears Pass. Probably a damn tourist who thinks having four-wheel drive means you can still drive the speed limit in a blizzard. I’ll probably stop in and see their mom and let her know how her furkids are doing. Don’t wait up, hun, I’ll see you all in the morning.” Leaning down, she kissed Sharon on the cheek. After a quick wave, Susan bolted from the room.
“She is the absolute best, and the locals know it.” Sharon shook her head, as she watched the swinging kitchen door. “It’ll be close to never before she fully gives up her practice.” Sharon turned her penetrating gaze back on Lauren. “So, tell me about this project you’re planning. Where exactly is this fieldwork of yours? All you said in your voice mail was something about Mount Zirkel.”
�
�Yeah, no jungle this time, but I imagine it’ll be as cold on that mountain top this time of year as anywhere I’ve ever been."
Sharon paused and eyed Lauren. “Where exactly in the Zirkels is this work?”
Excitement bubbled up in Lauren. "This time it's just a short trip up the road. Quick in to Gilpin Lake, drop the probes through the ice, set up the monitors and recorders, and a quick out. Not more than four days and three nights. Jamie will be here tomorrow. This is going to be a great project. And with an almost unlimited budget no less. We’ve designed all new monitors, probes, and casings. It’s going to be groundbreaking. I’m surprised that your Steamboat Heritage group isn’t involved as well.”
She paused to take a breath and noticed how quiet it was in the room. A frown furrowed Sharon’s brow. Even Boscoe had stopped his food hunt and stared up at Lauren with big, sad eyes.
“What did I say? "
Sharon’s frown deepened, her eyes narrowed. “We are involved. We’ve been fighting CP&E for the last five years. There is no end to the fight. But you blast in here and think this is some winter camping trip with a little science thrown in for good measure. You gotta get a life.”
Sharon’s angry. What’s going on? We’re on the same side of this issue. “But, Sharon—”
“Don’t!” Sharon held up her hands. “You and your projects. You need to be looking for the truth. The truth is that all these corporations use your precious data to further their own interests.”
“I—” Lauren couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Sharon steamrolled on. “Because you are the best, and they know it! The best at getting the information. Getting the best data. Data they want, data they can use to bend the truth. Twist it into their truth and then if it doesn’t fit, lie about what’s actually happening in our world and to our planet to justify their endgame. Make more money!”
“That’s not true. You’re making it sound like I’m working for the corporations. That’s not the case and never has been. Geodynamics only works to stop corporate polluters. The Sierra Club is our partner on the Zirkel project. We’re gathering the data to stop CP&E’s construction of another coal-fired electrical generation plant.” Lauren felt out of her element. When Sharon got going no one could stop her. It was the same in Australia when they first met. Sharon seemed so caught up in her views of the world that she couldn't see a broader reality. Couldn’t debate alternatives to shutting down exploration or development all together. Couldn’t rationalize how Lauren’s work helped stop corporate polluters, helped force cleanup while, doing so in an economically-viable way.
“You and Susan are the most intelligent people I know but neither of you have one ounce of common sense.”
Lauren felt that was unfair. “Hang on. You can’t stop every bit of exploration and development around the world. We’d all be thrown back into the Dark Ages. And don’t think I don’t understand what’s going on. That’s why we’re doing this project the way we are. We don't want CP&E to gather their own data and misrepresent the results. The Sierra Club will need the unbiased data that we gather to support their case.”
“But can’t you see how CP&E will use your data to lie and twist the truth. It’ll be another example of what happens when your data are used for corporate gain.” Sharon pushed away from the table.
Lauren shook her head, her anger starting to rise as well. Sharon wasn’t listening. “You’re wrong. My data are used by environmentalists to stop corporations from irreparably damaging our world and forcing them to clean up their messes. My data allows people to make informed decisions that help everyone. Informed decisions that balance exploration and development with environmental accountability.”
“Really, do you think CP&E will clean up this valley or the wilderness area?” Sharon bristled.
Lauren’s ire rose. “Yeah, I do. The Sierra Club is preparing the needed legal briefs now. All they’re waiting on is our data to show the extent of the damage. Then they’ll demand change.”
“Well, good luck with that.”
“Sharon, come on. Let’s calm down here and discuss the project. I can’t believe that your Steamboat Heritage group won’t want to partner with us too. You can reinforce our findings with local observations made by members of your group.”
“You are so naive. Do you know that I have to paint the brass doorknobs on the west side of the house with clear coat to prevent them from tarnishing? That the acid snow is etching the paint off the ski lift stanchions on Mount Werner. That’s tangible damage that is happening in this valley today. CP&E doesn't care about data or damage already done. They just care about corporate profits. And to make a profit they have to produce electricity. To make electricity they have to burn coal.” Sharon threw her napkin down on the table. “Stop gathering data that can be twisted and turned by corporate raiders. Do something that makes a difference. Do something to stop them now.” Sharon shook her head and looked at Lauren with a fierce glare. “Maybe you need to admit that you’re doing more harm than good. Maybe you need to go back into medicine where you can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
Sharon stood so quickly that her chair tipped backward, crashing to the floor. Boscoe whined. She stormed from the room without another word. Lauren felt like all the air was sucked out of the room with Sharon’s rage, leaving her in an emotional vacuum. She looked down at Boscoe. “What did I say?” The Corgi exhaled explosively and trotted from the room, obviously as upset as his mistress.
“She can’t believe that, can she? My data isn’t misused that way.” Everything that she believed in—her data, her science, her work, the last twelve years of her life—were all called into question. And all the failures of her past coalesced with the present. Jamie had at least listened to her and been supportive. He tried to understand, to see the whole picture. But Sharon just threw it all back in her face, without allowing Lauren the opportunity to respond.
Am I really colluding with corporate pirates? No, it wasn’t true. She gathered data using scientifically reproducible and approved methods. Is that how the data are being used? Something I’m responsible for?
“Is it?” Lauren asked the silent room, wondering if she’d missed the point all these years. She never reviewed projects after they were completed or followed what they did with the reports after that. Perhaps she needed to start.
Susan bustled into the kitchen in a swirl of cool air. “Hey, kiddo, why’re you still up? It’s four in the morning. And you know we’ve got a dishwasher, don’t you? No need to get wet.”
Lauren stood at the kitchen sink, elbow deep in soapy water, lost in a repeating loop of internal debate and self-doubt. Sharon’s comments had melded with her discussion with Jamie and sucked her back into her past. Into her parents’ disapproval of her decision to leave medicine. Into her failures to help her patients. She couldn't help the kids then, and now it looked like she wasn't helping the planet either.
“Finally got the cats settled. A little bruised but no injuries, thank heaven. I went and saw their mom. The docs are going to keep her for observation. She has a nasty head wound from hitting the side window. They think it’s just a gash but wanted to rule out concussion.”
Lauren was still lost in her past. She let Susan’s words wash over her. Seems all her introspection occurred while elbow deep in dish water. A thought that would be funny if it weren’t so true. Gotta stop doing dishes.
“Lauren?” Susan stepped up behind her and asked, “Hey, you ok? What’s going on? How come Sharon left you with all the cleanup? That’s not fair, a guest shouldn't have chores.”
Susan touched Lauren on the shoulder.
Lauren started. “What, oh, you’re home. What do you need, I’m doing the dishes from dinner?” Lauren slowly pulled her arms from the sink. “See, dishes.”
“How long have you been standing here?” Susan grasped Lauren’s wet hands, wincing. “The water is ice cold. Look at your hands. What happened? Where’s Sharon?”
Susan grabbed a
towel and handed it to Lauren to dry her hands. “Happened? I’m not really sure. We were talking about my new project. Sharon said that the data we collect would be misused to cover up corporate misdeeds. That I’m not helping the environmentalists gather information to support their work. That I’m actually helping corporations justify their actions and continue polluting. She thinks I need to go back into medicine, since I’ve wasted the last twelve years of my life and maybe done irreparable harm to our world.”
Susan tugged on her shirt, pulling her away from the sink and onto one of the bar stools at the counter. “Slow down. Tell me what happened. What did Sharon say? You know she’s not the most tactful person in the world. And she has a one-track mind when it comes to the environment. It’s all or nothing with her.”
Lauren, still in a haze, nodded and leaned against the counter. The solidness of the cool granite grounded her. “We were talking about my projects, and I was telling her about the new project, you know, the one in Mount Zirkel. And she got so upset, so angry, that she left.”
“What do you mean left? Who’re you working for?” Susan was quiet for a moment, and then her eyes widened. “You aren’t working for Colorado Power, are you? They’re trying to expand their operations in the Yampa Valley.”
“No, not Colorado Power. We’re working for the Sierra Club. I don’t know what I said. I don’t know what upset her.” Lauren still didn’t understand why her friend had gotten so angry.
Burying her head in her hands, Susan groaned. "Oh boy, this is so not good. We’ve really not kept up with each other. Sharon’s been working non-stop for the last six months to halt the construction of another coal-fired power plant in the valley. She’s been immersed in endless rounds of information gathering and photo tours to capture images of the acid snow damage in the valley. Our trip to Europe was to visit areas around Aosta in Italy to see areas damaged by industrialization and acid rains. We toured their reclamation projects, seeing what they are doing. Now you show up with a project that will provide data to support this new construction."
