Unconventionally Wolf, Julie Steimle [red scrolls of magic .TXT] 📗

also wafted towards the stage.

"Or it is just the way of evolution?" Rick muttered again with a wheeze, realizing that they were purposely leaving him out. "If they cannot survive then they are not fit."

"The thing is: How do we all live together?" Mr. Fulcroft asked, ignoring Rick's last interjection.

"There has to be a balance." Prof. Pederson nodded. Then he turned toward Mr. Lowell. "Speaking of survival," Prof. Pederson said to him, "Your business thrives on the recycling industry. Now we may have torn into traditional manufacturing, but how is your business contributing to the rise in global warming, or possibly its reduction?"

Mr. Lowell grinned with a bragging laidback glance toward Rick who was now dry coughing, fighting the urge to puke. "Oh, we try to make an effort to encourage people to use recycled products. In this way we can give back to the environment and help people stay green-conscious."

Mr. Fulcroft looked over to Rick, annoyed when he let out a large cough and had to dig out an inhaler. Rick gestured to Carl to find out why he was getting this allergic reaction, as from where he was sitting he could not see any wolfsbane or hunters nearby.

Carl moved quickly.

"Are you just taking advantage of the market with these products?" Prof. Pederson asked his fellow panelist.

Good naturedly, Mr. Lowell shook his head. "It is a minor profit we make. Mostly we do it because we want to do our part to reduce the destruction of forests. Every little bit helps. There is so much landfill waste these days—and we reduce that."

"What are the byproducts of recycling cardboard?" Rick wheezed, after sucking in from the inhaler. It barely gave him breath to talk. "You have to break them down and pulp them…"

Mr. Fulcroft glanced back to Rick, surprised. He then echoed it, as despite all his feelings towards Deacon Enterprises, Rick had a good point and he could not be heard. "What are the byproducts of recycling cardboard? You do use chemicals when breaking own the boxes and pulping them, right? Is that not just pollution in another way?"

Mr. Lowell opened his mouth to respond. But Rick let out another huge cough.

"Have a cold?" Mr. Lowell asked, raising his eyebrows at Rick.

"He has a weak constitution," Prof. Pederson shot off with a chuckle. "Difficulty in hearing about profit loss."

That moment the conference staff came in at the bottom of the stage, hunching down just below it, and with apologetic looks to Rick, they removed an entire line of potted purple and white aconite flowers. Once they were gone, almost immediately the urge to vomit vanished from Rick's gut. Tommy Whitefeather had also followed them, yanking out a mini-fan which had been blowing the smell their way with something dangling from the backside of the machine. All that was left was the garlic odor, which for some reason lingered.

"Hey!" Mr. Lowell called after him. "That’s for air circulation!"

"Those flowers were improving the air quality," joined in Mr. Fulcroft. "Put them back."

"Not for me, they weren't," Rick coughed out. "I'm allergic to monkshood."

The men on stage stared at him.

Darkly, Rick gazed back. "The pollen."

Their stares turned dry.

And Mr. Lowell said, "You are not really inclined toward nature, are you? A sheltered city boy."

That mocking voice drew out Rick's wolf side. He was hurting. He was hardly breathing. And he just wanted to tear out that man's throat. Mr. Lowell's entire shtick of virtue-signaling as a saintly recycler who 'wasn't doing it for profit' was sickeningly hypocritical. Rick had read his father's research on the man and found the guy intolerably hypercritical of others while at the same time not actually paying his employees a decent wage. He cut corners in quality, and he paid a number of people to troll competitors on the internet to boost sales. The guy was a slander machine.

And there was plenty of waste in his industry. Pulping paper required water and certain chemicals for the paper to hold together. Then there was the trimming, particulate matter in the air which would affect the workers' lungs, chemical vapors for adhesives, noise pollution from the machines, oils and inks, as well as the energy to run the machines, and lastly the defective product which had to be put back into the shredder. Rick had toured one of his father's paper mills, which produced a variety quality material that supplied numerous businesses around the world. He knew what waste it produced.

Tommy Whitefeather marched onto the stage and whispered into Rick's ear, "You don't look well. Do you need to come off stage for a breather and a shot of epinephrine?"

Cringing, Rick half considered it.

"Is this heap big chief your advisor on all things nature?" called out Mr. Lowell.

A snicker and a gasp passed through the crowd. Not so much for the racist remark—though it had something to do with it—but for the murderous look on Rick's face.

Rick popped out of his seat. "That’s it! You know, I can take the snide remarks towards me and even towards the company, but this gentleman happens to be a good man. *cough* *cough* A human being! And men like him deserve respect.” He coughed again, this time harder. It was becoming difficult to draw breath. The garlic odor was still there.

“You’re human too!” James called out from the crowd.

That got a rippled of confused laughter.

Nodding to himself, Rick coughed once more and turned toward those on the panel, “You have made assumptions about our company which are verifiably false. As for your assumptions about me, I think they are more directed to my suit."

A snicker went through the audience. James smirked. It really was a nice suit.

"How much did it cost?" Mr. Lowell asked, his greener-than-thou sneer spreading on his face. "A few thousand?"

"I don’t know," Rick then coughed hard. "I didn’t buy it. I—"

"Of course, it was bought for you," Mr. Lowell continued, smug in his assumptions. "You would not actually stoop to entering a shop, now would you?"

"Listen, you ass—"

The moderator rose, looking trying to rescue the situation. "I think the discussion had gotten side-tracked. Can we please return to the topic at hand? We were discussing the possible markets for green product. If we can—"

"No," Rick bit out with another cough. "We were not. We were discussing what byproducts are created while recycling cardboard and if that is in fact just another way to pollute—right before he pigeonholed my friend into a racial stereotype."

Mr. Lowell paled. The crowd drew in a collective gasp.

"No…" said Prof. Pederson cut in, gazing darkly on Rick, "We were discussing the removal of those plants which had been placed in front of the stage for air quality."

"And which I *cough* *cough* *cough* objected to because I am allergic to monkshood," Rick explained, coughing again. His head was aching now.

"I think the issue at hand is how a person can claim to be pro-environment when the environment makes him sick," Mr. Lowell sneered.

The moderator paled. She really wanted to steer the discussion away from Rick. His lips were turning a little blue and Carl had urged her earlier to get him off the stage if ever he looked ill. Legally, a fainting heir to multi-billions would be a catastrophe.

 Rick lifted his chin as all eyes flickered to him. Coughing. "No. *cough* The environment does not make me sick. Your misuse of the word makes me sick. The word environment means the space around you. There are several kinds of environments. The fact was, you were mocking me for having allergies. Are you so bloody perfect *cough*cough* that you have nothing that impedes you from living life the way you want to?"

People in the crowd chuckled… especially considering Mr. Lowell's less than perfect physique. Next to Rick's fit musculature, Mr. Lowell looked like a hairy potato.

"Nothing impedes me from enjoying nature," Mr. Lowell replied coolly. "I am not a pampered city boy like you. I can handle a little dirt."

James busted up in the front row. Several eyes whipped to him, shooting daggers. Many were getting sick of his peculiar outbursts.

Rick peered down at James as the people next to him tried to hush him up. The thing was, James was not laughing because Mr. Lowell was right. Quite the opposite. Mr. Lowell was flat out wrong and James knew it. 

"Not inclined to nature? A city boy?" Rick shook his head. "I may have a penthouse in New *cough* York. I may have even lived in the city for a short time, but I *cough* grew up *cough* in the Berkshires of Massachusetts. The forest was my *cough*cough*cough* backyard. And for that matter, I have hiked every animal reserve our family owns. I know *cough*cough* intimately the nature of them. As for the way *cough*cough* I look—I got this suit yesterday. It was bought for me because it *cough*cough* is businesslike and I am here on business. It's not like I go around *cough*cough*cough* hiking in three piece suits.”

“Hiking?" Mr. Lowell laughed. "You are so full of it. You have asthma.”

Rick bristled. “I don’t have *cough* asthma. I have allergies. Strong ones.”

But Mr. Lowell still laughed. “If a little flower is going to do you in—”

“Who in here has allergies?” Rick said to the audience, coughing. “Gluten? Peanuts? *cough* Strawberries?”

Hands started to raise. Several. Then more.

Struggling to breathe, Rick turned to face the man. “It is a pain in the butt having *cough* allergies, but I am more than capable of hiking a mountain.”

“Highest peak you have climbed—Go,” the man demanded to know.

Moaning, Rick looked like he wanted to knock the man's head off.

“For the record, I am a hiker, *cough*cough* not a mountain climber. But the best hikes I’ve been on…?” Rick held out his hand and counted on his fingers, coughing as he wheeze in air. “I’ve been to Zions National Park, Yosemite, *cough* Killarney Park in Canada, The Grand *cough* Canyon, of course. I’ve been through all of Berkshires in Massachusetts. *cough*cough* Glacier National Park in Montana, Baxter’s State Park—”

“That’s enough,” Carl said, looking severely disappointed as he walked on stage. Rick had abandoned all professionalism. Rick could see it in his eyes.

Throwing up his hands, Rick finally said to the panelists, “Fact is, *cough* Deacon Enterprises works hard to make sure our factories are non-polluting. What have you contributed to society except complain about *cough*cough* things? Or make a profit off the *cough* current trend toward greening? What we really have to ask is are we damaging the lives of *cough* the human beings around us? Because as much as caring about a tree frog in South America is cute, if a human *cough*cough* is suffering while a tree frog is living in luxury then we have failed our own species."

"So, humans first," said Prof. Pederson. "Is that it?"

Looking to him, Rick stared, still struggling for breath. "What kind of insane animal despises *cough* cough* his own kind? No other animal would sabotage itself the way humans do. No other."

"And what if the world gets destroyed because we are thinking of ourselves first?" Mr. Fulcroft asked.

Rick shook his head at him, finding it becoming harder and harder to breathe. "Thickheads—the *cough* lot of you. Thinking of people first is not the same as thinking of profits. I think about *cough* our company’s employees. I think about *cough* their standards of living. I think about the *cough*cough* quality of their food. I think about the amount of free *cough*cough* time they have for recreation. I think about the quality of their health*cough*care. This is what Deacon Enterprises is about. Its people. Caring for the *cough* land is caring for *cough* the people."

"But what do wolf reserves have to do with all of that?" asked Mr. Lowell with the same old sneer. In his eyes his own belief of his moral superiority shone.

Rick's eyes said it all as his lips went a little blue. Self-preservation. However, Tommy stepped in. "We need to take you aside for an epinephrine shot NOW."

Nodding, Rick let Tommy lead