David Dun - At The Edge

"Now I'd like to make my second point."

"I wish you would," the judge said.

''Our opponents always want us to selectively harvest; it looks good to them like a park. But it's usually bad. Private forests have been ruined by selective harvesting. When you cut the biggest and the best, it's like killing the first three finishers in a horse race and then using the fourth place finisher to stand at stud. You reduce the genetic viability of the forest through selective harvesting. Worse yet, the tree species that were there before a selective harvest won't grow back because the remaining trees provide too much shade. So in a word you ruin the forest. Today the average-sized tree on Otran lands is only eighteen inches because of uninform selective harvest practices. After one hundred years of modern clear-cutting techniques throughout the next century, the average-sized tree will be over thirty-two inches. The trees will be large once again, as they were before the Europeans arrived. So what looks ugly-namely a

clear-cut-is really good. Forced selective harvesting will make sick, stunted forests. It's pure ignorance. These stunted forests do less for the CO 2.

"I have just one more point, Your Honor. In 1968, the government came into our community and said that they were going to save the old-growth redwoods. They took private property, reduced our timber base, closed our mills, and gave our workers government handouts. The government put tens of thousands of redwood acres in a park.

"But what happened then? Ten years passed, and concerned citizens noticed that not all the old-growth redwoods were in parks. I guess they wanted more places where the trees won't grow. By that I mean they wanted to produce an old rotting forest that does nothing. Inland away from the coast such forests burn in a horrible inferno because we put out the wildfires and also never cut because we have some weird idea about what's bad and what's good. On the coast such forests just stop vigorous growth and therefore do less for the air we breathe. These are the kind of concerned citizens who may do more harm than good.

"And in 1978 the government came in again and studied the matter, weighing all the options. And again, private property was taken, mills were closed, people were put out of work, and the welfare rolls were expanded.

''Now, it is true that when the Native Americans occupied the redwood coast, there were far more old-growth redwoods than there are today. But they didn't have cars; they didn't need fuel for cars and planes. They didn't have a problem with the greenhouse effect. And I admit we should have a few old-growth forests like we have museums. Keep them around. But the vast majority of the forests should not be old and stagnant. We need the rapid growth of a developing forest. And for God's sake, if we're going to manage a forest instead of leaving it untouched, then let's not make it sick. Let's not decide to intervene and destroy the forest by foolish selective harvesting methods. If we're going to cut, let's do it right so it grows back and grows back vigorously.

"And let's give a break to the people for a change. Let's follow the law. Let's not let ten minutes' worth of emotion overcome twenty years of planning. We don't need another vegetable dump. And that, Your Honor, about sums up my position."

Finished, Dan turned to his chair. Before he could even sit, the mill workers broke out in passionate cheers and whistles. On the bench Traxler banged his gavel; next to him, the marshal screamed "Quiet!" — but all to no avail. Emotions were too high now. A fight erupted near the back of the courtroom between a logger and an environmentalist. Screams and shouts filled the air as the audience tried to pull them apart. The bailiff, a fat man in his thirties, tried to make it to the melee, but ended up hopelessly locked in the crowd.

Fifteen feet away from him, Dan could see Maria Fischer climbing on the counsel table.

"Stop!" she shouted with more volume than Dan would have thought possible.

Perhaps it was the strange spectacle of a female lawyer standing on a table, but whatever it was, it quieted the crowd.

Stepping down, Maria addressed the court. "Perhaps, Your Honor, we could meet in chambers now. But I have got to say that Mr. Young is hallucinating about the science. He's just oversimplifying." More shouting erupted in the courtroom gallery.

Traxler banged the gavel. ''Court is adjourned for thirty minutes or at the request of either party." Then he was gone, off the bench as fast as he could move without actually running.

At the judge's suggestion, the two lawyers entered the jury deliberation room alone. There, Maria sat at the head of the table, and Dan took a seat immediately to her left. It was only then that Dan noticed Ross taking a seat beside Maria.

"I believe this is an attorneys' settlement conference," Dan said. There was silence as Maria looked first at Dan, then at Ross. She sighed.

"You are really a prick," Ross said.

"Why torture yourself?" Dan said. "If you've got her, she'll come home. Following her around like a sick puppy isn't-"

"That's enough!" Maria shouted, and slammed her hand on the table. "You shut up," she said to Dan. "Ross, come here," she said, rising. "We'll talk outside. This man can't be civil, so don't give him the satisfaction of watching while the bailiff kicks you out." Ross followed Maria, who slammed the door on their way out.

In a minute she returned, livid.

"Did you send him home to Sacramento?" Dan said.

She sat down and opened her briefcase, removing a yellow pad.

"This may be your idea of a joke-"

"Will you just listen for a few minutes? Please."

"What?" she snapped.

"I didn't plot and plan against you. I wasn't sitting there on the weekend hoping they'd cut down your trees. I had no idea anybody was girdling trees or cutting with a huge crew. Of course I didn't want to spill the beans about what I thought was an ordinary logging job. I may in the past have made some unfortunate jokes about cutting on the weekend but, Maria, it isn't what you think."

"Yeah, you're not a deceitful sort of guy. Right. You sit in the dark like a spy, and let me go on and on in a restaurant thinking you're some kind of… soul mate. You oversimplified the carbon issue in your argument to the court. God, you think like Allen Funt."

"I have a job to do. If you don't like it, just walk down to engineering and they can fight with my boss," Corey said. ''We have an ionizer to fix. That's all I know. Complete rewiring. If you have a problem, then why don't you and I go onto the roof and talk to my boss." She hoped he would take her up on it

The deputy hesitated. "Your boss is on the roof?"

She nodded, then took off her hat and shook out her hair. "We could go look at the sights," she said with tones that were a touch friendlier and a lot more adventuresome.

Immediately the deputy's face was transformed. He was talking to a beautiful woman and not a snot-nosed boy out of high school.

"Let's go," he said. "Jeez, I thought you were a…"

"A what, Deputy?"

"Well, a boy. That's what they said."

Quickly she put on her hat and tucked her hair back up under it. "I find sometimes it helps to let people think that. I gotta take them this anyway," she said, picking up the crowbar.

He waited until she walked ahead. Unfortunately, he seemed very alert and still slightly suspicious. They opened the door and walked past the workmen who nodded and said nothing. The deputy pulled out a big ring of keys and unlocked the roof door. It meant she wouldn't have to knock out the small window again. She could use the crowbar for something else. They walked up the concrete stairs that rose through a cut in the roof.

She gripped the bar. Glancing back, she saw the deputy's hand go to his baton-probably just habit. Or maybe something was bothering him. His footfalls were heavy behind hers. He was close. Her second hand curled around the bar so that she held it like a bat. There were three stairs to go. When she touched the top stair, she whirled in one smooth motion. He was four stairs down. At chest height his head split like a watermelon as the bar slammed into his ear. A red film shot into the air and gray brain matter went flying.