PERHAPS YOU'LL END UP LOOKING A LITTLE LESS CONSPICUOUS. LESS LIKE A TREE. MORE LIKE A HUMAN BEING. MORE LIKE A WOMAN. He became sleepy with alcohol.
LOOK I WANT TO KNOW THE REAL YOU. WE SCREWED TOGETHER AN HOUR AGO. YOU FELT PRETTY GIRLISH TO ME. He didn't hear her cough. He shrugged continuing to sip his beer.
WHO KNOWS HOW CLOSE I'VE COME TO KNOWING NATURE. WHO ARE YOU TO SAY. YOU MAY BE GREEN OR A GREENIE BUT YOU'RE JUST A GIRL TO ME.
He had never been close to her. His infatuation died and his passion became clumsier. She began to ripple towards him, behind the glass, as he felt the affects of alcohol. He was tired and drunk and losing her already. She was a potential fire hazard, but he convinced himself that nothing mattered.
I'LL PROTECT YOU FROM THE COUNCIL, he spluttered. SCIENTISTS WILL NOT DISSECT YOU. THE GOVERNMENT WON'T SELL YOU. MY MATES WON'T SCREW YOU. MY NEIGHBOURS WON'T BUY YOU. ZOOLOGISTS WON'T CLASSIFY YOU. I'LL PROTECT YOU WHATEVER THE COST.
AHHH. THE WILDERNESS ETHIC RIGHT. YOU DON'T BELIEVE IN BUSH WALKERS? PICNICERS? BATHERS? RAGERS? RANGERS AND THE TOURIST INDUSTRY? THE FOREST AS A RESOURCE? I'VE HEARD IT ALL BEFORE. BUT YOU'RE IN A MINORITY.
I THINK YOU'RE FORGETTING THAT THE FOREST IS THERE FOR OUR USE AND OUR BENEFIT. HUMANS HAVE RIGHTS TOO. PEOPLE HAVE GOT TO UNDERSTAND WHAT IT IS THEY'RE PROTECTING. THEY'VE GOT TO LEARN TO LOVE TREES. He was almost asleep.
Only One coughed. He had collapsed in a stupor. She became desperate, rocking the jar backwards and forwards. He had finally left her, switching back to the world of his own kind. The glass jar capsized and rolled over. She bumped her head as she was flung from the enclosure. She snarled and whimpered as she passed by him and left the Hothouse. He didn't follow her.
At first she got as far away as she could from him without leaving the structure. She sent her love into the drip-tip leaves, ferns and staghorns, orchids and fig shoots. They should never have come here, she thought, feeling tender towards them in their vulnerable state. They didn't belong here.
The winds were humming - somewhere in all other places of nature - the light of late afternoon was waking life - colouring stones and trees and the sky would be changing. She left before the council of humanity could claim her, straighten her out and tidy her up. Her first taste of civilization had been enough.
While she was here she was nowhere. The anti-life society was desolate. She thought of the light descending on mountains, as stones and water washed over them. She needed vibrations of living things. If she was the Only One left she didn't need preserving. She would choose to live her last hours close by the place of her being.
When she left the Hothouse that afternoon, he was asleep in the sun and snoring like a drunk. Ian the weekend conservationist - the weekend was almost over for him.
