Breaking Up, Making Up
Breaking Up
A crack like a gunshot, followed by a grinding shriek. Small crystals of ice are catapulted into the air, as seismic forces tear the frozen landscape apart. It is too thin, too weak. Frigid swirls of water lap at the edges of the new terrain where a mother wags her head, paces back and forth and chuffs towards the sky. The ribbon of water between mother and cub expands. Her hot breath forms misty clouds.
Her eyes never leave the infant, who stands rigid on a bucking sixpence of slippery flotsam. To jump to the rescue of the mewling cub would surely be a mistake. And so she is forced to hesitate. To wait until she can guarantee to create not a single ripple. Wait until the infant has drifted beyond her immediate reach.
The pacing and moaning continue. The cub bleats a terrified reply. The gap widens.
The mother focuses her attention forwards and slithers into the icy water. Gently, ever so gently, she paddles towards her son. He stamps his little feet with joy and the frosty platform tilts. Paws scrabble to gain purchase. He cries, she roars. A splash. Silence.
Making Up
‘So, Mr President, you’ve curtailed the powers of the Environmental Protection Agency. How will your government contribute to halting the loss of sea ice in the Arctic, which is vital to the survival of the polar bear?’
‘OK, so I’ve got some great people to work on this. It’s gonna be great. It’s gonna be fantastic. You’ll see. No-one else can solve this. Iceland? Losers. Greenland? Total losers. We’ve got the best strategies, the best ideas. All the other countries have failed. Total disaster. Their research is fake. Fake news, folks. I gotta tell you the truth - we’re the ones who are gonna fix this. Fix it good. You’re gonna love it.
Let me tell you, this isn’t hard. Antarctica isn’t melting, folks. Don’t get sucked into that. It’s all fake. We can save the polar bear, save Antarctica, I guarantee it. They’ll be around for our children and grandchildren, trust me. Can’t wait to see it. Next question?’
THE END