She hesitated.
"Ah hell, tell him, Ann," Bradley said. "She has ahuge fucking house. Must be ten, fifteen thousand square feet. Absolutelybeautiful . And the grounds! Got to be an acre, acre and a half. Sprinklers going day and night. And such gorgeous landscaping--she has fund-raisers there all the time. Always wonderful events."
Kenner looked at her.
"Twelve thousand," Ann said. "Square feet."
"For four people?" Kenner said.
"Well, my mother-in-law lives with us, sometimes. And of course the maid in the back."
"And do you have a second home?" Kenner said.
"Shit, she's gottwo, " Bradley said. "Got afabulous place in Aspen, and a great house in Maine as well."
"That we inherited," Ann said. "My husband--"
"And that apartment in London," Bradley said, "is that yours or your husband's company or what?"
"The company."
Kenner said, "How about travel? You use private jets?"
"Well, I mean we don'town one, but we catch rides, whatever. We go when people are going anyway. We fill the plane up. Which is agood thing."
"Of course," Kenner said. "But I must admit I'm a little confused about the philosophy--"
"Hey," she said, suddenly angry. "I live in a milieu where I have to keep up a certain standard. It's necessary for my husband's business, and--anyway, where do you live?"
"I have an apartment in Cambridge."
"How big?"
"Nine hundred square feet. I do not own a car. I fly coach."
"I don't believe you," she said.
"I think you'd better," Bradley said. "This guy knows what he's--"
"Shut up, Ted," Ann said. "You're drunk."
"Not yet, I'm not," he said, looking wounded.
"I'm not judging you, Ann," Kenner said quietly. "I know you're a dedicated advocate. I'm just trying to figure out what your real position is on the environment."
"My position is human beings are heating the planet and poisoning the planet and we have a moral obligation to the biosphere--to all the plants and animals that are being destroyed, and to the unborn generations of human beings--to keep these catastrophic changes from taking place." She sat back, nodding her head.
"So our moral obligation is to others--other plants, animals, and other people."
"Exactly."
"We need to do what is in their interest?"
"What is in the interest of all of us."
"Conceivably their interest is not the same as ours. Conflict of interest is the usual case."
"Every creature has a right to live on the planet."
"Surely you don't believe that," Kenner said.
"I do. I'm not speciesist. Every living creature."
"Even the malaria parasite?"
"Well, itis part of nature."
"Then do you oppose the elimination of polio and smallpox? They were part of nature, too."
"Well, I would have to say it's part of the arrogant pattern of mankind, changing the world to suit his purposes. A testosterone-driven impulse, not shared by women--"
"You didn't answer me," Kenner said. "Do you oppose the elimination of polio and smallpox?"
"You're playing with words."
"Hardly. Is changing the world to suit one's purposes unnatural?"
"Of course. It is interfering with nature."
"Ever seen a termite mound? A beaver dam? Those creatures change the environment dramatically, affecting many other creatures. Are they interfering with nature?"
"The world is not in danger," she said, "from termite mounds."
"Arguably it is. The total weight of termites exceeds the total weight of all the humans in the world. A thousand times greater, in fact. Do you know how much methane termites produce? And methane is a more potent greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide."
"I can't continue this," Ann said. "You enjoy arguing. I don't. I just want to make the world a better place. I'm going to go read a magazine now." She went to the front of the plane and sat down, her back to Kenner.
Sarah stayed where she was. "Her intentions are good," she said.
"And her information is bad," Kenner said. "A prescription for disaster."
Ted Bradley roused himself. He had watched the debate between Kenner and Ann. He liked Ann. He was pretty sure he had gone to bed with her; when he was drinking, he sometimes couldn't remember, but he had a vaguely fond memory of Ann, and he assumed that was the reason for it.
"I think you're being harsh," Bradley said, in his presidential tone. "Why should you call someone like Ann 'a prescription for disaster?' She cares very much about these issues. She has devoted her life to them, really. She cares."
"So what?" Kenner said. "Caringis irrelevant. Desire to do good is irrelevant. All that counts isknowledge andresults . She doesn't have the knowledge--and, worse, she doesn't know it. Human beings don't know how to do the things she believes ought to be done."
"Like what?"
"Like managing the environment. We don't know how to do that."
"What are you talking about?" Bradley said, throwing his hands in the air. "This is nonsense. Of course we can manage the environment."
"Really? Do you know anything about the history of Yellowstone Park? The first national park?"