indeed.
“Oh, please…” Brian snapped at Rain in class, “there’s already so much red tape. It’s not like they’re just going to let everyone go out and trash the whole world.”
The Alberta tar sands were in the news, prompting a few questions that spiraled almost uncontrollably into a debate over the pros and cons of bitumen extraction. Controversial on a multitude of levels, the issue had become a hot topic of late across this state just south of Alberta. It was environmental, social, and economical all in one fell swoop. A perfect storm to get people all kinds of riled up.
For the most part in class, Rain kept a low profile. She was smart as fuck, but kept quiet and listened. She took notes. She absorbed the material and aced every test and assignment.
Yet every once in awhile, Douchebag Brian cocked off and said something really fuckin’ dumb. Something that she just couldn’t let slide. Something like the regulations surrounding in-situ production were too strict.
“They have way too many ridiculous laws in place,” Brian continued.
“Hardly,” Rain murmured, just loud enough for him to catch. “It requires a huge amount of water, and that water is then contaminated.”
“They have special ways to store it to prevent environmental impacts.”
“The people who live in the area rely on the Athabasca River for its fish supply which is being poisoned. Cancer rates are climbing. Even though the specific storage modalities are required, they’re not necessarily being used, and it’s killing wildlife and people.”
I should step in , I thought.
Not necessarily to save Rain, though. Her calm arguments were incredibly convincing and logical. Intelligent and backed up by science.
And her confidence had a way of rattling her opponent, who was usually Brian because the guy was a complete know-it-all who actually knew very little.
He was starting to look red in the face, realizing he was losing this argument. She generally had him clamping his mouth shut with a perturbed glare within a few minutes. He had given it a good go this round, but Rain really knew her shit and it showed. Now he was looking rather petulant. Losing an impromptu debate was clearly not something he was used to.
“Whatever,” he frowned. He was getting ready to throw in the towel, spiraling into petulance.
“I’m not saying it shouldn’t be done,” Rain coolly pointed out, “but I think it could be done in a better way. A safer way. A more environmentally sound way that doesn’t destroy some of the most pristine wilderness on the planet.”
I had learned through these class discussions that Brian was from an oil family. Big money. Big heads.
Rain was most definitely not. She didn’t share a lot about her background, but she definitely veered towards conservation. She was a bit of a puzzle.
I thought back to that day in my office.
I could switch degrees , she had said. Go into environmental, like my bachelors .
I couldn’t figure out why the fuck she was getting her masters in petroleum then, and I thought about that more often than I should have. I thought about her more than I should have.
It sometimes even started out innocent enough. Her thoughtful arguments in a paper. Her research to thoroughly understand the concept of the assignment. Her intuitive questions during a lecture that drew me into discussion.
But it would eventually snowball into something extraordinarily dirty, testing my willpower as thoughts of her soft skin and breathy gasps haunted me. She had gotten under my skin that first night at Dave’s party and tantalized me from just beneath the surface. Even in oversized hoodies and faded jeans. Even with her hair pulled back into a ball cap like she was trying to fade into the small sea of faces staring up at me.
Those big brown eyes of hers couldn’t be ignored, though. The memory of her soft lips preoccupied me. Aside from wearing a bag over her head, I didn’t know how to not
“Oh, please…” Brian snapped at Rain in class, “there’s already so much red tape. It’s not like they’re just going to let everyone go out and trash the whole world.”
The Alberta tar sands were in the news, prompting a few questions that spiraled almost uncontrollably into a debate over the pros and cons of bitumen extraction. Controversial on a multitude of levels, the issue had become a hot topic of late across this state just south of Alberta. It was environmental, social, and economical all in one fell swoop. A perfect storm to get people all kinds of riled up.
For the most part in class, Rain kept a low profile. She was smart as fuck, but kept quiet and listened. She took notes. She absorbed the material and aced every test and assignment.
Yet every once in awhile, Douchebag Brian cocked off and said something really fuckin’ dumb. Something that she just couldn’t let slide. Something like the regulations surrounding in-situ production were too strict.
“They have way too many ridiculous laws in place,” Brian continued.
“Hardly,” Rain murmured, just loud enough for him to catch. “It requires a huge amount of water, and that water is then contaminated.”
“They have special ways to store it to prevent environmental impacts.”
“The people who live in the area rely on the Athabasca River for its fish supply which is being poisoned. Cancer rates are climbing. Even though the specific storage modalities are required, they’re not necessarily being used, and it’s killing wildlife and people.”
I should step in , I thought.
Not necessarily to save Rain, though. Her calm arguments were incredibly convincing and logical. Intelligent and backed up by science.
And her confidence had a way of rattling her opponent, who was usually Brian because the guy was a complete know-it-all who actually knew very little.
He was starting to look red in the face, realizing he was losing this argument. She generally had him clamping his mouth shut with a perturbed glare within a few minutes. He had given it a good go this round, but Rain really knew her shit and it showed. Now he was looking rather petulant. Losing an impromptu debate was clearly not something he was used to.
“Whatever,” he frowned. He was getting ready to throw in the towel, spiraling into petulance.
“I’m not saying it shouldn’t be done,” Rain coolly pointed out, “but I think it could be done in a better way. A safer way. A more environmentally sound way that doesn’t destroy some of the most pristine wilderness on the planet.”
I had learned through these class discussions that Brian was from an oil family. Big money. Big heads.
Rain was most definitely not. She didn’t share a lot about her background, but she definitely veered towards conservation. She was a bit of a puzzle.
I thought back to that day in my office.
I could switch degrees , she had said. Go into environmental, like my bachelors .
I couldn’t figure out why the fuck she was getting her masters in petroleum then, and I thought about that more often than I should have. I thought about her more than I should have.
It sometimes even started out innocent enough. Her thoughtful arguments in a paper. Her research to thoroughly understand the concept of the assignment. Her intuitive questions during a lecture that drew me into discussion.
But it would eventually snowball into something extraordinarily dirty, testing my willpower as thoughts of her soft skin and breathy gasps haunted me. She had gotten under my skin that first night at Dave’s party and tantalized me from just beneath the surface. Even in oversized hoodies and faded jeans. Even with her hair pulled back into a ball cap like she was trying to fade into the small sea of faces staring up at me.
Those big brown eyes of hers couldn’t be ignored, though. The memory of her soft lips preoccupied me. Aside from wearing a bag over her head, I didn’t know how to not
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