The Old Oak

3

Secretary Bartleby lightly tapped on the heavy oak doors. He stood for some moment staring at the layering of straight lines in the wood; almost having some semblance of rising buildings, like his city. He smirked, not having noticed this before. He received the call to come in and entered.
    Lord Ethergue the third was standing, hands clasped behind his back, staring out of his large circular window. It domed outwards, the frame seemingly to dissect the city and sky into quadrants.
    Lord Ethergue took to this window often, Bartleby noticed. It was no wonder. The city of red stone and shiny brass sprawled out before him. The layered pipes that climbed some of the buildings flanks puffed white cloud. An airship floated by in the golden sea of the sky.
    "Yes?" Lord Ethergue said, turning around and taking his seat at his leather bound desk.
    "My lor—," Mr. Bartleby stopped himself, faked clearing his throat. "Mister Ethergue, an update on the situation at Speeler Hollow."
    "Gods in high heaven. Is this still not resolved? We're not going to stop expansion and production of Greenshaws AeroTech for some...hussy school teacher. What does she bloody-well want, anyway?"
    "Beatrice Fischer wishes to cease all development because...well, she says it will ruin a tree. Seems to be her main concern, oh, and—" Simmonds thumbed at the paper's in his hand.
    "A tree! A tree! All this fuss over some piece of vegetation. Next we'll have people stopping ship builders for gunking up the waterways. Could you imagine!"
    "Yessir. She has a petition. Over two hundred people signed, concerned over AeroTechs expansion into Speeler Hollow."
    Lord Ethergue scoffed. "A tree! Why do they care about a tree?"
    "I do not know, but they are adamant. Would you care to look at the petition?"
    "No, I could not care less. People's names on a piece of paper don't mean anything. They'll forget. They will not care in several weeks after completion when we provide them work, and they see the first airship grace their very own skies.
    "So it's this tree that's the problem? Is that all she's demanding, that we leave the tree alone?"
    "Yessir, I believe so." He looked down at the petition. This Fischer woman's letter was a long one. His boss was irate. It would be unwise for him to reveal the entire statement of what she demanded and expected.
    "Let her have it."
    "Sir?"
    "Don't cut the ruddy thing down. If she thinks that two hundred names and her wee self are going to stop the expansion of this company, she has another thing coming. We need that field, Bartleby. The river close by is a necessity, how else are we to dispose of the factories waste or cool the machinery? Does no one understand progress?"
    "I concur, sir."
     Lord Ethergue squeezed his moustache in thought, curling the tip. "We'll leave space enough around the thing, make it a court yard or something. For the workers. That'll be victory enough for her, eh?"