Some Like it Warm

"When the music's over, turn off the lights." ordered General Specific placing the tattered newspaper over his now red eyes. It was directed towards Major Minor who was hooked onto whatever he had been hooked onto for the past few days. General Specific didn't mind the lights as such and he even liked the boy. However, he himself needed some sleep, he felt tired already and knew there were heavy days ahead which culminated in him being unnecessarily pissed.

"Good to see that someone cares." followed up Rev. Green. He tried to make it sound like he was talking to himself and did a pretty good impression of it except for the part where he was loud enough for the whole bus to hear it. It was something that he had been waiting to bring up since a long time. On this occasion, he mistook the "turn off the lights" to be in a different context and let it roll before he realised it. No way of taking it back now, he thought, hoping that someone would bite.

"Of course, we do!" snapped Director Ms. Leading, much to Rev. Green’s relief. He recalled how she had always involved herself in all the causes she could involve herself with. Say no to fur, vegetarianism, gay rights, ban the bulb, the death of drunken elephants, you name it. She was visibly anti ban-the-polybag though. Rev. Green thought she was an act but preferred a wannabe speaking about it over no one speaking about it at all.

"Why, the fact that fuel prices are rising again despite it being a very important electoral consideration is encouraging, even if for the wrong reasons. Car pooling, the eco-friendly Metro, CNG, the green Commonwealth games, they’re all signs that the government and the people are now paying attention to environmental issues." explained Director Ms. Leading.

“Naive." cut in Baby bitch, "I’m sure doing the good thing isn’t incentive enough. The wrong reasons are probably it. Anyway, these are just blissfully ignorant ambitious schemes,” she said, unconsciously nodding at Platinum Blonde to drive the point home, “like the National Action Plan for Climate Change, which is just a lot of gas. Control its release and you could run a bus on it.”

"The world is getting together at Bonn to trigger the metamorphosis. Everyone needs some time to understand the consequences of climate change and change shall inevitably happen. This is a huge step forward with the more fortunate nations leading the way. The world needs to cooperate to find a solution. Rival factions and selfish ends can only be a step backwards." began Ambassador Boeing, almost extempore. It was, politically, a wonderful performance, he didn't commit to anything, didn't disclose anything and didn't take a stance. Even Premier Worst couldn't hide his surprise. All he had done was change his position on the seat because his back hurt. At his age, he couldn't care less about the environment and his grandchildren. They, whoever they were, would have enough left after him to buy a spot on the first colony in Mars. Ambassador Boeing had also realised that he had goofed up and so he shutted up.

Factory Girl shifted her cigarette to her left hand and her weight to her right cheek to toss a can to Ambassador Boeing who faithfully handed it over to Premier Worst. This one was meant for him and not Jabba, she sighed with a roll of eyes and a puff of smoke.

"Look at ITC, they're carbon positive. Renewable energy is already a $7.5 bn industry and $20 tn is expected..." she broke off suddenly. A miserably conspicuous glance at Premier Worst was followed up by an equally miserable attempt to make it look like an attempt to light another cigarette.

"The GDP of Nepal is $12 bn." mumbled Ambassador Boeing, eyeing the can.

"You can't expect overnight changes." she continued as if nothing happened, "Solar plants need an incredible amount of investment and a lot of catchment area. Wind and Hydro are location specific. Tidal, geothermal aren't very practical. Nuclear is the only option" she stated, sticking to facts this time.

"Food, shelter and education are priority." soundbyted Premier Worst, attempting to sound enthusiastic.

"First they screw it up and then refuse to fix it or even accept it. All I see your more fortunate nations,” retorted Pvt. Public, air quoting, “doing now is trying to deflect the blame and get out easy and not help the less fortunate nations.” he air quoted again, “The industry, meanwhile, is facing problems in sticking to norms and is doing all this just because it looks like goodwill and could appeal to people. It's peer pressure and business opportunities more than genuine concern. What we need now aren’t discussions, we need action."

"What we need now aren’t discussions, we need a miracle." corrected Rev. Green. Holy Shit looked on in disgust.

"What we need now aren’t discussions, we need Captain Planet. He was so cool. Those five rings were superawesome!" squealed Platinum Blonde in glee.

General Specific lay squirming in his seat all this while. He had even tried the ear muffs and was soon running out of options. Counting sheep partially worked the last time he tried, so he gave it another shot. It succeeded to the point of reducing the ongoing discussion to a random chain of words.

"Bharat Nirman..."
"Ramesh Jairam’s afforestation..."
"Green batteries..."
"Jatropha..."
"Recylcling water..."
"Ozone Hole..."
"CFLs..."

A sudden burst of wisdom messed up his attempt. Was it seventeen eighty nine? Or nineteen eighty seven?

"Futility....arguments...urgency...materialism...modern civilization." It was Inner Shia alright. He would have loved to listen to him on any other day. Some of the smoke from Factory Girl was wafting over too. And just when things couldn't get worse Murphy decided to throw his weight around and got Major Minor air-guitaring to the song and getting carried away with the sound effects. For all the wisdom of the ancient, actions didn’t speak louder than words after all. "TAENANA TAENANA TAENANA TAENANA TWEAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNN" he broke out in a moment of ecstasy, effectively ending the discussion.

This could count as an addiction accepted General Specific happily as he stretched over to tap the boy on the knee, rubbing his bloodshot eyes with his free arm. Major Minor grinned sheepishly and held up two fingers, oblivious to the cries of "Go Maj!" which had erupted in the background. General Specific nodded in consent, he’d won it.

“To be a rock and not to roll" summed up the moment and deserved to be the last words of the night.

Too bad.

(Image modified from a poster of the movie, Son of the Mask)