Human

by Hayley Camille

  “So let’s put a face to the destruction. Elaeis guineensis. A seemingly innocuous palm tree which is mass cultivated to create the most widely produced vegetable oil in the world.”

  “In the last 24 hours, every one of you used palm oil. But you didn’t know it, because they don’t want you to know it! It’s been a part of your cooking, your chocolate, snack foods, your cosmetics, soaps, detergents and maybe even the fuel in your car! But you don’t know what you’re buying because it’s labelled as ambiguous, generic ‘vegetable oil’.

  Ivy took the microphone from its stand and stepped in front of the wooden podium instead. There was now nothing between her and the swelling crowd and just for this moment, she wanted it that way.

  “So,” she called bitterly, “considering a lot of us here didn't know what palm oil was a few minutes ago, I'd say it is high time we gave it some attention!”

  The microphone rang and cheers of support from Ivy's orange-clad crew sounded through the crowd. A rush of applause and affirmations rose to the podium. She let a moment pass.

  “There are at least two and a half billion acres of abandoned land around the world that could be used for palm oil plantations with nearly sixteen million in Indonesia alone. Enough to cover the projected need our world has. So why burn our forests and take the homes and livelihoods of the indigenous people that need them?” Ivy’s jaw clenched. Her eyes were hard and cold.

  Ivy threw her fist onto the podium. “I'll tell you why! Because it’s cheaper to burn forest than to resurrect ruined land. And not just their own land! After they’re ravaged and sold off as timber, the forests become great blazing walls of fire as far as the eye can see.” She paused for dramatic effect but her audience didn’t need it. “Massive amounts of carbon dioxide are released, pushing climate change. They cause drought, soil erosion and uncontrollable fires. Toxins drain into the oceans bleaching the Great Barrier Reef.”

  Ivy let the words flow from memory. She never worried she would forget what to say anymore, only the consequences of saying nothing.

  “This is unsustainable. This is criminal. And to compound the problem, these plantations are financed by major international banks. Your banks, your money. Flowing to the pockets of a handful of people with strong political influence -and because of their influence, it’s almost impossible to enforce laws on them.”

  From the crowd below the podium, Liam jumped up onto the platform. Ignoring the microphone in Ivy’s hand, he yelled toward the audience.

  “Ten years ago, these villagers had the most biodiverse forests in the world to provide their food and shelter! Now they work for pitiful wages under dangerous conditions. They’re angry!” Liam’s voice rose provocatively. “The legacy they leave for their children will be ruined land and a broken economy.” His face was red and sweaty. Ivy ushered him back off the stage with a minute shake of her head and a glare.

  “This is about more than employment,” Ivy replied evenly, moving back behind the podium. “Pesticides are being leached into rivers, killing fish and leaving no fresh water for drinking and bathing. There are chronic illnesses and breathing problems in plantation workers and brain defects in newborn children.”

  Visions danced before Ivy’s eyes of violence and sacrifice and the most innocent of victims. The fire within her mellowed. This was always the hardest part.

  “Setting the forests alight is the cheapest and fastest way to clear land. But hese fires destroy everything in their path. Animals that try to escape, like these Orangutans,” Ivy threw her arms wide to the wall of the photographs in the information stands, “Flee to the only remaining trees for food and safety. The plantations. But there’s a price on their heads. Palm oil workers are paid extra to murder. Orangutans are beaten and attacked. Burnt alive in their desperation to escape, when they have nowhere else to go. Any infants that survive are captured, only to be sold into a life of misery in the illegal pet trade. There is no escape for them.”

  Ivy drew her eyes slowly across the courtyard; even the air seemed not to breathe.

  “Not a single tree is left to shield these creatures from one of their closest cousins. Us. Humanity. A cousin that shares ninety-seven percent of their DNA. A cousin that has already murdered more than fifty thousand of them and leaves them clinging to the very edge of extinction. An endangered listing holds no weight against profiteering and industry.” Ivy's voice rang out. Appalled silence caught even the orange crusaders, who were well versed with the horrors she spoke of. When did humanity become so inhumane?

  Ivy’s thoughts flicked to Kyah, whose wounds were reflected in the eyes of each orphaned orangutan plastered on the information booths. She imperceptively shook her head and her voice dropped to almost a whisper into the microphone. “They are gentle, benevolent and highly self aware. I guarantee each and every one of you, that if you look into their eyes, you will see a reflection of your own humanity.” Ivy searched the eyes of her audience and tried to find her own.

  She took a deep breath. It was time for action, strong and clear.

  “These forests are the most biodiverse place on our planet. The cure for cancer could be hidden in them, burning as we speak. This is on our head; we must act now. We must take on this challenge! We must be their voice!”

  Cheering erupted from the crowd and orange banners flew. The released tension of hundreds of protesters shot through the chilled morning air like lightning.

  “We cannot leave this to the corporations that feed their own pockets first!” Ivy yelled. More cheers came. Banners waved. Those who had been watching from the sidelines surged forward to join the throng.

  “We must make financiers accountable for their impact!” Ivy's fist hit the podium as she spoke and with each resolution came a resounding applause.

  “We must ensure that sustainable resources are the only trade companies that we will accept!

  “We must enforce environmental impact assessments, effective law enforcement and humane wildlife management on the ground!

  “We are the consumers! We drive the economy! This is our money and we will decide how it’s spent!”

  The crowd roared. Ivy's heart thumped as she stepped down from the podium. Her audience began moving and the orange shirts set to work once more. They milled through the masses with banners held high, dispersing leaflets and sponsor forms, information sheets and a limitless supply of enthusiasm.

  Ivy's eyes searched the crowd and quickly found Orrin. He was leaning against an information stand, staring at her with an unreadable expression. Ivy took a deep breath and walked towards him. I don’t care what he thinks.

  But she knew it was a lie.

  Orrin placed a latte in front of Ivy on the stained plastic table.

  “So… that wasn't what I expected. Again.”

  Ivy smiled, hiding a pang of disappointment. “I keep doing that, don't I?”

  “Don't get me wrong, you were actually - brilliant. Really you were.” Orrin sat down opposite her with his own coffee, knocking the refectory table as he did so. The coffee cups wobbled precariously, sloshing across the table. Ivy jumped up but a large coffee stain was already blossoming on the front of her skirt. “Jaysus! Sorry!” Orrin leapt forward to help, knocking the table again. He groaned and clapped a hand to his forehead.

  “Aah, shite. I've made a complete haymes of you now.” His smile faltered as Ivy mopped up her clothes with serviettes. “That skirt of yours is really getting abused today isn't it.”

  “Don’t worry. Refectory coffee is notoriously cold,” Ivy said. “And to be honest, I'm not one much for skirts anyway.” Not after today's treachery. This skirt seemed fated for the bin.

  They sat back down to awkward silence. Finally, Orrin spoke.

  “You really were fierce up there. The protesters were near scrapping over it for you. Those guys in costumes revving up the crowd at the end, well, I sure don't envy the guards; they looked like they were anticipating trouble.” He leaned back in his chair. “Where are
they headed now?”

  Ivy's forehead creased momentarily with worry as she glanced toward the waiting buses. Streams of students were piling on, encouraged by the continuing war-cries of the orange shirts. “The city. There's a multi-national corporation in Flinders Street that supplies palm oil to some of the big food manufacturers. They've got a petition to deliver. 'Make it sustainable or don't make it at all.'” The first of the buses pulled slowly from the curb. “Don't worry; I doubt there’ll be any trouble. Liam's our head campaigner on the ground - he's enthusiastic for sure, but he can control the crowd.”

  “Enthusiastic? Bit of an understatement for that boyo.” Orrin's framed eyes flicked to the buses, then back to Ivy's face as she watched them leave the turning circle one by one. Liam's mop of hair bobbed up and down as he herded more bystanders onto the bus, convincing them to skip class. Ivy grinned, familiar with his tactics. A campus party had undoubtedly been promised.

  Orrin cleared his throat hesitantly. “Am I keeping you? I mean, shouldn't you be with them?”

  “No. I've got a tutorial later and I'd hate to leave the newbies without their homework.” Ivy flashed him a smile. “Anyway they don't need me, I just lay out the facts, and Liam leads the action. Yin and yang, you know? We’re a good team.” Her mind drifted back to the pulsing crowd, the claustrophobia, that terrifying voice. Falling. She felt the heat in her cheeks at that last memory. “I'm not much of a people person to be honest,” she admitted quietly.

  “The crowd loved you,” Orrin said. “Liam seems pretty - uh, enthusiastic too. Are you…? I mean, are you and Liam… together?” Orrin seemed unable or unwilling to look at her. He ran a hand through his thick hair and laughed nervously. “Sorry, none of my business….”

  Ivy paused. “Um, no. No, not at all. Just friends, colleagues.” She caught a flash of relief on Orrin's face before he masked it. “God no, I mean, Liam's a laugh and all but he's practically got a conveyer belt of interested women. All far more stunning than me and fresh out of high school.” She raised an eyebrow. “They usually last about two weeks.”

  “Fair play,” laughed Orrin, visibly relaxing. “Although, I doubt they could be more stunning than you, age regardless.” He winked at her. Actually winked. Ivy snorted with laughter and hid behind her coffee cup. Deep breath.

  “So anyway,” she frantically searched for a subject change. “What brings Orrin James to Melbourne Uni really? Not enough academic notoriety where you were?” This time it was Orrin that looked discomfited.

  “Too much actually.” He leant forward conspiratorially. “You know what I'm working on - how important it could be.” Ivy nodded. “I just – I couldn't afford to have the academic board breathing down my neck as their ‘up-and-coming promotional resource’. Their words obviously, not mine. I’m not a damn resource. I had to get out. To be honest I needed much better equipment and a wider berth anyway. No one's watching me here. At least not as closely.”

  They chatted intently for the next hour, oblivious to the people slowly drifting away from the refectory, heading back to lectures and work. Ivy explained the finer points of her current research to Orrin, and was surprised to find he followed with rapt interest. Usually, she received vague, glassy smiles.

  Orrin leaned closer. “So what of this ‘usewear analysis’ then? I mean, if you find blood on these stone tools you’re working on, what can you actually do with it?”

  Ivy sat forward too, unable to curb her passion. “You mean, what can't we do with it! The tiniest amount of residual blood blows our window into prehistory wide open. It's like… having a camera in the kitchen of a cave man - or on the end of a spear. What animals did they butcher? How did they cook their food? Hunt? Make clothing? I can literally recreate the daily lives of humans that have been extinct for thousands of years. I use everything I can find - blood cells, plant fibres, feathers, hell, I can even tell you what poisons they used to tip their arrows.” Ivy's face was like a beacon of light, her green eyes sparkling. “Didn't you ever see Jurassic Park?”

  “For sure. But I thought that Jurassic Park stuff was a hypothetical? So you can really get dino DNA, then?”

  “Well, not quite,” Ivy admitted. “Sixty-five million years is still a little beyond our reach for DNA repair. For now. You see, ancient DNA degrades the longer it spends in the environment. It fragments; breaks down into shorter sections like a microscopic jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces and jumbled parts. But we have managed to get DNA fragments of other prehistoric animals. Woolly mammoths, cave bears, reindeer, musk ox…. We've also got genetic material from nineteen plants in Siberian ice cores over four hundred thousand years old!” Ivy leant forward, not even aware she had grabbed his hand on the table.

  “That right?” Orrin was beaming.

  “Yes! Just imagine - the earth was so different back then! Humans were still evolving, Homo erectus were walking the earth, and who knows who else! It's incredible stuff. Did you know that we've already mapped the genetic code for Neanderthals? My hope is that one day; we can use DNA to set our phylogenetic family tree in stone.”

  Ivy leaned back in her chair, her cheeks suddenly pink as she dragged her hand back with her. Oh my god, did I do that? She laughed nervously.

  Slowly and deliberately, Orrin leaned forward, taking her hand again in both of his. They felt strong and warm.

  “And?” he prompted. “What about your Flores blood, any chance of resurrecting the little lads?” He let her hand go gently and sat back, shuffling his empty coffee cup instead.

  Ivy felt suddenly lost. “Um. Flores? No - no such luck. Yet. The bones are pretty recent, maybe 60,000 years old, but they’ve been under some pretty rough chemical and environmental decomposition. They were like mashed potatoes during excavation apparently - it was a difficult process. The DNA breaks down under those conditions. But the stone tool residues were younger, so - maybe? That's what I'm here for.”

  When Orrin's questions finally drew closer to her personal life, Ivy stumbled on her answers self-consciously.

  “So what’s the craic for Ivy Carter, then? Outside of the little dead people, I mean.”

  “Work is fun. Did you miss the memo?”

  “Apparantly so. All work, hey? So, no boyfriend hidden ‘round the corner then? Waiting to knock me down for spilling my coffee all over you?”

  “I could have done that myself,” she smiled. “Still might.”

  Orrin laughed. “I don’t doubt it. But seriously, put me out of my misery here-”

  “It’s been a long time for me,” Ivy relented. “The longest. I’m not even sure if I have it in me anymore.” She rubbed the coffee stain on the plastic table. “People I love always seem to…” die… “leave.”

  “That sounds like a story, right there.”

  “It’s really not,” Ivy deflected. “There’s nothing much more to it. I’m quite boring actually.”

  “I sincerely doubt that,” Orrin said quietly, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Help me out here Ivy. I know there’s something you’re not telling me. I just can’t figure it out.”

  “Maybe there's nothing to figure?” Ivy smirked, looking away. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

  Orrin leaned forward in the plastic chair, his brow furrowed. “Okay, here's what I've got so far. You clearly don't trust anybody, but I get the feeling you'd throw yourself on a grenade for that bonobo, and vise versa, so you must trust her. You've got a head full of your own secrets, but you're digging skeletons out of prehistoric closets for a living and exposing them instead. You don’t seem to like attention, but when the spotlight’s on, you can incite revolution from a crowd.” He pushed on. “Any more contradictions I should know about?” Orrin smirked conspiratorially.

  Ivy’s shoulders stiffened and she swallowed hard. This man was dangerous. He wasn't just breaking through the wall she had so carefully built. He was smashing it down.

  She laughed humourlessly. “I don't know Orrin; you tell me?” She tucked her fringe bac
k carefully and allowed herself a moment to stare right back at him. “Are you such an open book?” Two can play at this game.

  Ivy stared at him deliberately, noticing Orrin’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed under her scrutiny. His jaw clenched slightly and his chin rose. Orrin’s black framed glasses glinted in the sunlight and behind them, his eyes were amused and inviting. Ivy raked her eyes over his body. Orrin’s shirt was fitted across his chest, a single button open at the collar revealing olive skin underneath. She already knew that his hours in the university pool were working to great effect. Short, white sleeves fitted snugly around his biceps and his hand rested casually on the table, strong fingers cradling his empty coffee cup. Once more, she couldn’t help but imagine those fingers finding her birthmark. And other places. Ivy bit her lip to keep from grinning as she brought her attention back to his face; she was surprised to see Orrin actually seemed impressed by her assessment.

  He leant forward, lowering his voice to a hoarse whisper. “Oh, that's right. This last one messes with my head the most.” Orrin paused, arresting her eyes with his own. “You deflect me constantly Ivy, but I can't stop thinking about you.”

  Ivy's face burned as she looked away, inordinately pleased.

  “I think you seriously underestimate yourself Ms. Carter,” he said. “You're captivating.”

  Oh God. Ivy had never considered herself one of those women that fawned over an accent before, but in this case, she couldn’t deny that it made her toes curl. “Yes, well, when you put it that way…” She shook her head at him, laughing at her own defeat. “You’re a long way from home, Dr James. Ireland must miss you. I'm guessing you moved to Australia alone then?” She drained the last of her cold coffee in an attempt to hide her grin.

  She expected Orrin to roll his eyes at her perfectly executed deflection, but instead they dimmed.