The origins of climate change skepticism:
By ten thirty sharp, Sally has finished her breakfast of eggs and toast. Like always,
the eggs are sunny-side up and the toast is lathered in one perfect dollop of butter.
By eleven twenty, she is reading the daily news, sneering at the horoscope section.
Sally saves the tabloids for last, after saying her prayers five times. She really hates
sinning. But when you live in a family that loves the underground, you can never
escape the ever-present motto: Everyone needs to get lost in a rabbit hole. As an
actual rabbit hole has always terrified Sally, she chooses the tabloids instead. Much
safer. And with her coin purse caked in chalk, no demon could ever enter the
blessed circle of her mind. Within minutes, Sally is walking backwards, clutching
her purse tightly to her chest.
Today, the tabloids take her towards an environmental museum, a shining gold
skyscraper built on mulch. Outside, there is a giant room of fat wallets, clearly
proving the credibility of this museum. Intrigued, Sally steps inside, taking in each
flickering billboard. Surrounded by fascinating headlines—here one minute, gone
the next—Sally is captivated by signs promising an important awakening.
“CLIMATE CHANGE IS NOT REAL; HOW LISTENING TO SCIENTISTS COULD
COST YOU YOUR PURSE,” reads one sign. Inside the exhibit, dishonest lab coats
are shaking hands with moneybags, an eye-opening exchange for Sally. While the
scientists are sweating profusely, each moneybag is wearing a polar bear fur coat.
The Earth is only getting colder, one says. He winks at Sally in a way that makes
her blush everywhere, fantasizing how it would feel to run warm fingers through
cold, underground fur. That would be an experience! On her way out, Sally gives
him her number, letting him run sensual hands over her purse. I’ll give you a
blizzard, he whispers with a soft tug, a blizzard over your equator. Sally leaves the
exhibit on cloud nine, feeling butterflies down to her frost-bitten toes.
Your time was very much appreciated. At the end of Sally’s visit, an automated
robot personally hands her the receipt. Free! And she has a signature from her
moneybag, along with some grainy photos. More to come…wait for me tomorrow.
Not too bad, eh? Cheeks flushed, Sally smiles and walks away, forgetting about
her missing purse.
the eggs are sunny-side up and the toast is lathered in one perfect dollop of butter.
By eleven twenty, she is reading the daily news, sneering at the horoscope section.
Sally saves the tabloids for last, after saying her prayers five times. She really hates
sinning. But when you live in a family that loves the underground, you can never
escape the ever-present motto: Everyone needs to get lost in a rabbit hole. As an
actual rabbit hole has always terrified Sally, she chooses the tabloids instead. Much
safer. And with her coin purse caked in chalk, no demon could ever enter the
blessed circle of her mind. Within minutes, Sally is walking backwards, clutching
her purse tightly to her chest.
Today, the tabloids take her towards an environmental museum, a shining gold
skyscraper built on mulch. Outside, there is a giant room of fat wallets, clearly
proving the credibility of this museum. Intrigued, Sally steps inside, taking in each
flickering billboard. Surrounded by fascinating headlines—here one minute, gone
the next—Sally is captivated by signs promising an important awakening.
“CLIMATE CHANGE IS NOT REAL; HOW LISTENING TO SCIENTISTS COULD
COST YOU YOUR PURSE,” reads one sign. Inside the exhibit, dishonest lab coats
are shaking hands with moneybags, an eye-opening exchange for Sally. While the
scientists are sweating profusely, each moneybag is wearing a polar bear fur coat.
The Earth is only getting colder, one says. He winks at Sally in a way that makes
her blush everywhere, fantasizing how it would feel to run warm fingers through
cold, underground fur. That would be an experience! On her way out, Sally gives
him her number, letting him run sensual hands over her purse. I’ll give you a
blizzard, he whispers with a soft tug, a blizzard over your equator. Sally leaves the
exhibit on cloud nine, feeling butterflies down to her frost-bitten toes.
Your time was very much appreciated. At the end of Sally’s visit, an automated
robot personally hands her the receipt. Free! And she has a signature from her
moneybag, along with some grainy photos. More to come…wait for me tomorrow.
Not too bad, eh? Cheeks flushed, Sally smiles and walks away, forgetting about
her missing purse.
Snigdha Garud is a high school senior from Pennsylvania. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Paranoid Tree, Blue Marble Review, Five South, CUTBOW Quarterly, and more. In her free time, Snigdha enjoys watching sunrises, sunsets, and everything in between. You can find her on twitter @coniferousyeti.
Beaver Magazine 