Egosystem

Her muddy leather boots looked like someone had covered caramel with melted chocolate. She felt the heat envelop her as the smell of soil reached her nostrils. She thought of the people who always talked about the clear, blue waters off the shores of Belize. Few ever spoke of the oppressively hot conditions. The August weather was meant for locals, tourists had left some time back in May.

“Miss Bonham Jules,” inquired Galton Dowers, shaking hands with her as she arrived at the conservation site.

“Shall we inspect this space?” Dowers asked.

Bonham’s grey eyes looked up, directly meeting Dowers’ brown-green eyes. He took her hand, and she stomped, rather than stepped on the doormat, as if she were at a religious revival. Dowers followed.

Bonham scanned the place. The strong smell of pellets and nuts attacked her nose. She sneezed.

“Bless you, ma’am,” Dowers’ associate Vin Manderlay said.

She said thank-you but did not recognize the mystical implication. That’s probably why she gritted her teeth when saying it.

Dowers just grinned, sharing a tacit acknowledgment of the atheist stance that Jules and he shared. Bonham led the small pack of filmmakers, editors, and assistants Jules kept in tow.

“So these are the last two scarlet macaws on the land we can find,” Dowers announced. “We’ve used night vision, thermal vision, and have hiked, driven, and flown around hundreds of thousands of acres. We found a male and a female. We have strong data that suggests these beautiful creatures are all that are left. We’ve named them Randy and Kandy,” Dowers said.

The red, yellow, and aquamarine plumage entranced Bonham for a moment. The melange of hues caressed her retinas, and almost hypnotized her. She gathered her composure upon seeing Dowers feed some hazelnuts to the avian wonders.

“Just these two? What happened to the rest?”

“Poachers. They’ve decimated the landscape despite strict guidelines from the government. They’ve managed to circumvent the laws, and disregard the land and air. And—”

“That’s why I’m here,” Bonham finished Dowers' sentence for him.

“Yes. We’re going to be experimenting here.”

The captive scarlet macaws fluttered in their large cage. The cameras rolled on them.

“Is there an office we can go to?” The room was air conditioned, but Bonham found herself chasing perspiration away nonetheless.

“Of course,” Dowers said. He winded through the other cages with keel-billed toucans, howling monkeys, and kinkajou. The office featured a medium sized desk and maps all over the place, for decor rather than for utility purposes. Black orchids dotted the space.

“You’re here for this place to be….” Dowers left the sentence hanging.

“Privatized. Fully, completely, naturally,” Bonham said.

“That’s it. Yes. And what will that entail?”

“I will buy up three hundred thousand, two hundred, fifty-three acres of land. It will be totally protected by armed guards, and other personnel will ensure there will be no interference with the scarlet macaw ecosystem.”

“I don’t know…guns?”

“Yes, guns, ATVs, and other vehicles will patrol to prevent any intentions of attacking these beautiful birds,” Bonham said.

Dowers scratched his chin. He got up and walked around his desk to a window.

“It’s going to be fine. My Egosystem company in Delaware will be the guardians of all wildlife. After you breed the birds, we will be able to build their nests. We’ll keep the eggs to nurture and allow them to flourish, we will take it from there. Oh, and we’re changing their names to Ragnar and Kay.”

“Okay, name changes but beyond that is where I think this whole privatization thing falls flat,” Dowers snapped.

“Oh?”

“I don’t want poachers and the only way we can save the land is by making it government owned.”

“How is that even on the table? The government bungled the job in trying to save these animals, what three times?”

“Four actually,” Dowers admitted. “But privatization is going to mean money grubbers like—”

“Me?” Bonham asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No. I mean we’re going to have people, not you, who will only want to turn this land into a tourist attraction, some park or something.”

“I can assure you, I will never turn this land into—”

Do the cameras have to roll here?”

“Guys….” Bonham called, and waved her hands to signal for the producers, cameramen, and other crew members to exit the office. They recognized their faithful leader’s request. “Like I was saying, this will never be a theme park. That is my word.”

“I’ll tell you what…you’re going to love conch fritters. Why don’t we go out for some? Just let your crew shoot the landscape while we dine. How’s that sound?”

“I think we can,” Bonham agreed.

At the shaded restaurant with just adequate air conditioning, the somewhat coolness allowed for the two of them to enjoy their meals.

“Yes,” Bonham said, “this is delicious. Now with the property—”

“Don’t you billionaires talk about anything but money?” Dowers questioned.

“Centibillionaire, and what is anything but money?” Bonham shot back with her own query.

Dowers looked down at his plate, and then back up at Bonham. “Touché. I just want to see these avian creatures thrive.”

“I do, too. That’s what privatizing the land will do. I will be saying hands off my property, including those wonderful scarlet macaws. We’re not going to be roving bandits looking for shootouts with the poachers. In fact, the opposite will be true. We’ll have the firepower just as a precaution. Otherwise, the land will be plentiful with those beautiful birds. Their wingspan will be like a paintbrush coloring the sky once more. All of that happens with a private solution.”

Dowers sighed, and stretched with his hands behind his neck. “Alright, but I want a piece of the investment.”

“Absolutely. I’ll send you a prospectus.”

“Can we count this as a first date?”

“I wouldn’t say it was anything but.”