Survival Of The Fittest

Back in elementary, when Olivia had started to open herself up more to people, when she had started reforming herself, one of the people who had spurred on that reform, who had helped shape her into what she was as of now was Latanna. Latanna was one of those people Olivia was drawn to, and back then, back in fourth grade, it was because she thought she was smart.

They both had nothing to hide when the report cards came home. They both competed for attention in the classroom when the teacher waited for an answer. They were both smart, right? But as Olivia found company with her in the cafeterias, as they studied together and ranted about group projects, as she drifted into engineering and Latanna, into politics, Olivia discovered that 'smart' wasn't quite the right word to describe her. It was like calling the sky 'blue' rather than 'cerulean' or something like that. Accurate, yes, but one word was a better fit than another. And in this case, that word was 'sharp'. 'Sharp'  as in 'mentally acute', as in 'very observant'.

'Sharp' as in sharp hearing, a sharp vision cutting into Olivia, autopsying her.

Latanna sounded perfectly normal right now, but she was still digging into her. She knew. And Olivia knew there was no point in hiding it. Rod had just showed her she was an open book. Exposed.

"I just thought you really weren't going."

She blurted it, said it like a tongue twister. Then, she looked at Latanna again. An alibi, that was what she needed.

"You did just call it improper."

Olivia continued to look at her. And she braced herself.

The crucial crucible of American conservatism. Judaical and executive overreach. The overstaying of liberal and progressive power on the domestic front. The success of conservative presidents on the foreign front. Yes, that would do nicely.

A sharp, honed mind proved an adaptable one. She switched trains of thought with bureaucratic, rubber-stamped ease.

Latanna smiled.

She didn't bite.

"I did, didn't I? That's fair. I just wish you'd be more honest with me in the future!"

And her smile was sweet in teaspoons. A trap for insects had to be properly honeyed to be set, after all. No, but this time she meant it. Poor Olivia. Someday she'd learn. But hopefully not in a dramatic fashion. The impetus for change, as history so often proved, was the brink. Latanna knew well how she'd react when pushed to that proverbial edge. She'd investigated Olivia enough to feel this was a metric where she and Olivia did not match heads.

Among many other things. Most of them petty and innocuous. To be fair!

((Latanna Beckstead continued in Carry the Fire))



"So what do you have so far, Olivia? I've managed thirty pages this quarter hour, and I think there is a solid case to be built within our respective means."