The suited shark across the desk is slick. His hair is combed back and kept in place ruthlessly, his ageless face is shaved smooth, blindingly white veneers show as he smiles. "As you can see, Senator Richards, our offer is more than generous."

I fold my hands on the smooth metallic surface as I consider it. I don't blame him, not really, he's just another lobbyist, a hired gun trying to do his job and make that money. I don't believe he's completely innocent, but he’s not the real problem. It's the group of corporations who hired him and countless others in an attempt to get what they want. Unfortunately for them, what they want from me isn’t something I'm willing to give. No matter how many smiling creeps they throw at me.

If I don't take a stand now, there won't be anything left to protect later. As it is, the land I’m trying to save is only about fifty acres. Not much at all, but it's one of the last remaining green areas on Earth and lobbyists like this guy are trying to undo its protected status so that their bosses can go in and cut down every tree, strip every mineral, squeeze everything they can out of it before developing it, taking us one small step closer to an Earth without a speck of green.

Where nature is just something to be read about in the history books.

I have to acknowledge that maybe that fate is inevitable. If past behavior is any indication of future behavior, we as humans are going to chew up every inch of space we have. But that doesn't mean that I'm going to let it happen without a fight.

"Mr. Witherspoon-"

"Chad. Please," he interrupts with another flash of expensive teeth, his eyes cold and calculating.

"We've gone over this multiple times already. You and I both know that I'm not going to budge. There's enough support to keep this land protected, even with all of the dirty money your bosses have been flooding the system with."

Money talks. Which is why a few of my colleagues have flipped to the other side.

"I understand and respect your moral and ethical convictions," Chad says, leaning forward. "That's why we've included funding for preservation research in this new proposal."

"What's the point of preservation research if there is nothing left to preserve?" I counter, exasperated.

His eyes meet mine. They're not quite as cold, like the person buried under that three thousand dollar suit and expensive plastic surgery is trying to swim up to the surface.

"Ling, I like you."

The sincerity of that statement is plain in his eyes, one of the few times he’s shown emotion since I've known him.

"Reconsider."

His tone is almost pleading now, his eyes locked on mine, intense.

I frown as I slowly shake my head. "I'm sorry. I can't. You know that."

He holds my eyes for another moment, like he’s trying to use sheer force of will to make me change my mind. But then he nods, defeated as he leans back in his seat.

"You're right. I do know that." With a deep exhalation he takes out his card and writes something on the back. "I'll urge you once again to reconsider."

I automatically take the card he holds out.

"That is my personal line on the back. Call me if you change your mind. I urge you to do so by tonight." With one last look he stands, and with an uncharacteristically sober nod, walks out of my office.

Strange.

I tap the card on the desk, wondering at the abrupt change of mood, but then the phone rings and somebody else wants my time.

The rest of my day passes by in the usual flurry of phone calls, emails, and meetings. I make sure to meet with some of my fellow senators, confirming that we're still holding on to enough votes to stall any move to open up the land we're trying to preserve. The Nature Preservation Coalition is not as well funded as many of the other political alliances, our strength comes more from the conviction each of the members has for the importance of what we're doing.

And so far, our members are holding strong on this issue worldwide.

We're also a close group, holding annual in person meetings to build personal relationships. Which means that when something happens to one of us, it affects all of us, not just professionally but also personally. Like when Prime Minister Nima Patel of India passed away a couple of weeks ago from a massive heart attack. He was a staunch advocate for the Coalition's goals and a personal friend. Apart from the emotional upheaval of his death, his passing has also left a power vacuum and we have to strategize about how we're going to deal with whoever takes the post next.

"We can talk all day about this, but we aren't going to be able to hammer out any details until the next Prime Minister is elected," Daniel finally says, his image over the holographic group call crystal clear.

We all murmur our agreement. The meeting has gone on longer than expected as we toss out various options to ensure we have some pull with the new government in India but it's getting late and everyone's about ready to go home, especially those of us with families.

The familiar pang clenches my heart at not having anyone waiting for me at home. One of the hazards of having such a time consuming job, it's difficult to find someone willing to put up with the grueling schedule. And despite all the leaps and bounds we've made in gender equality, it's still harder for a woman to find a man who's okay with his partner having such a demanding career.

"We'll reconvene after the election," I agree. "Goodnight everyone."

We say our goodbyes and I reach over and swipe away their images.

Now to catch one of the last few trains leaving the capital.

Once on board, I look around at the still half full car, at the multiple ad screens trying to market to the tired, late night group. Population is still on the rise, with no real end in sight. A future is coming where we'll be packed in even tighter than we already are. As it is, space is a valuable commodity everywhere. Gone are the days of any kind of rural living or open space.

I get off at my stop and walk the few blocks to my apartment building. There are still plenty of people on the sidewalk even this late.

I take the cramped elevator to the fortieth floor, tuning out the annoying ad screen set above the floor numbers. Thankfully, the narrow hallway isn't full of the ubiquitous marketing found in every public space these days. The residents of my building pay handsomely for the privilege of not being advertised to in our homes.

My studio is small, but it has everything I need. Normally, I’m relieved at walking inside after a long day of work, like I've finally reached the space in which I can relax.

But today... today everything seems too empty. There’s nobody waiting to greet me, or ask how my day went.

Just a small space filled with stuff.

Maybe it's time to cut back on the work a bit. Spend more time trying to find someone who will fit into my life. I don't want to wake up one day wondering how everything managed to pass me by.

With a tired sigh, I strip as I head to the small efficient bathroom to take a quick shower. Afterwards I pull on my robe, curling up on the bed and feeling marginally better. I just want to turn my mind off for a while, so I turn the television on. The news is on, probably not the best choice in my current mental state so I'm about to change the channel to something fluffy when a new headline spins across the screen. The three dimensional image and the garish letters make it seem like it's about to smack me across the face.

The blonde anchor who sports the glitter freckles so popular now puts on her serious face. "In other news, President Adrienne Henry of France passed away in a vehicular accident just an hour ago. Known as one of the more progressive leaders in recent history, his country mourns his passing. Rehan is on sight with more details..."

The screen fills with another blandly handsome face, but I've already tuned out.

Henry is dead.

There should be pain but there’s nothing but blank shock.

He was a friend. A gentleman in the truest sense of the word, but my stomach sinks at the news for a different reason.

Accidents happen, there's no doubt about that, but Henry was one of the more strident members of the Nature Preservation Coalition. He always joked that you needed good land to make good wine and he didn't want to lose what land we had left. How would he enjoy a nice glass of the already astronomically priced beverage?

But that was just a front. Like the rest of us, he cared deeply about the state of the planet and understood the need to care for it for our own survival.

Just as Nima did.

Two of our group gone within weeks of each other...

Coincidence?

After all, the vote on that land is coming up and we're already down two supporters.

Standing, I go to my discarded jacket and take out the card Chad left for me, staring at his scrawled phone number.

He was oddly insistent I call him and tell him I changed my mind. Like he knows something I don't.

I crumple the card in my fist.

Chad was very insistent I get back to him by tonight, even though the vote isn't for another week. Maybe he was trying to tell me something. If he was...I need to be anywhere but here right now, where I can be found easily.

Maybe I'm being paranoid.

Maybe I'll feel like an idiot later.

But I'd rather be paranoid and alive than reasonable and dead.

Adrenaline coursing through my body, I'm wide awake as I grab a small suitcase and start throwing essentials in.