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It’s about time someone sorted this oil business out. Joanna Kavenna brings us the exclusive story of the world’s first truly ethical oil company I got myself an oil-drilling platform. Oh, I’d inherited a bit of money from Great-Aunt Sylvia. They told me it was a million a day to hire it. Never mind, I said, it’s worth every penny. It’s about time someone sorted this oil business out, I said. If we simply can’t stop using the filthy stuff, then we need decent people running it. We need the world’s first truly ethical oil company, I said. If no one else will do it, it’ll have to be me, I said. I got myself a ship and towed my drilling platform right up north, up where the compass starts to spin round-and-round. Someone told me there was nice clean oil up there, virgin territory, accessible now the sea ice had started to melt. I ended up in this sketchy village on a wind-lashed coast, it had a name like Quaassoorrqq. I talked to all the locals. They were terribly worried about pollution and global warming, they said. Relax, I said, mine is going to be the nicest cleanest oil that was ever produced, and I’ll tell you what, how would you like a swimming pool, and a school, and some cosy new houses to replace those shacks you’re living in? At first they didn’t quite believe me. I said, look, we’ll split the whole thing, you get half, I get half, my expenses are pretty high, but still, I’m a decent-minded person and I absolutely want to do the right thing. They said, really, a heated swimming pool? Of course, I said. And a roller rink if you like. Whatever you want. Fifty-fifty, that’s the deal, I said. So they went to their government and their government said, really, fifty-fifty and a swimming pool? I don’t know what sort of cowboys you’ve dealt with in the past but this time everything’s different, I said. I got myself a license. Now it’s all legitimate, I said. I gave jobs to the locals, so they could see from the start just how fair and ethical things were going to be. I paid them well, I gave them a generous holiday allowance. I promised them lavish bonuses in the event that we struck oil. I’m deeply concerned about your work-life balance, about ergonomic stress, about time with the family, I said. We sat out on the platform, in the formerly frozen ocean. We had some useful-looking pipes and some huge levers and a big control room filled with buttons. I had brought along a bright spark, to tell me how everything worked. The sea changed colour every hour, like a show-off, trying to attract attention. One moment it was pink and the next it looked like hammered silver. Then it went pea-green and then it was purple. Icebergs floated past. Some of them were as big as houses. The bright spark said, yes, the ice is millions of years old, it comes from the Greenlandic ice cap, it’s been there forever. But now it’s melting, he said. Well, that’s sad, I said. But let’s not get too sentimental. You know, that’s what ice does in the end. It melts, I said. I got myself a tract of forest. The best way to offset my carbon emissions, the bright spark said. Okay let’s do it, I said. When we found our first trace of hydrocarbons I bought a few more thousand hectares of forest, and when the oil really started coming I bought the biggest stretch yet. I believe passionately in ethical fossil fuel extraction, I said. No expense spared, I said. I got myself a significant oil find. Deep under the ocean bed, we found commercially viable oil. Well, that’s what happens if you do things the right way, I said. Fortune smiles on you, I said. We had a little party on the deck. Champagne in plastic cups. What a great thing this’ll be for Quaassoorrqq, the locals said. Heated swimming pools and roller rinks, they said. Fifty-fifty, fair as anything, I said. The ice melts, and look what you find, I said. Liquefied death, the bright spark said. Liquefied death, what do you mean? I said. All those little animals and plants, he said, crushed into mulch, that thing you call oil. It’s just death. Well, let’s look on the bright side, I said. I got myself a Greenpeace boat, it came out to hound me. I took my loudspeaker, shouted back at them. You don’t understand, I’m a nice guy, I said. Look, I bought the biggest forest I could find, I said. The people of Quaassoorrqq trust me. Everything fifty-fifty, I said. The Greens went, and we all sat watching the bergs again. The bright spark said, once there was a berg, it sailed as far as Manhattan Island. It turned up by the Statue of Liberty, he said. That’s just wonderful, I said. What did they do with it then? They cut it up and put it in their pina coladas, he said. It fizzed like anything when it went in the drinks. All that ancient air, trapped in the ice for thousands of years, and then one little pina colada, POP, he said. I got myself a vicious storm. Waves like I’d never seen before, slamming onto the deck. Two of the locals drowned and the others said it was the something god of the ocean, punishing us. I respect your religion with all my heart, I said. And yet, I don’t think the something god of the ocean would object so wildly to the ethical extraction of fossil fuels. Let’s not jump to conclusions, I said. I sent the bodies back to the shore, paid out far more than I had to. I wrote letters of condolence to the families. I’m more sorry than words can say, I said. I got myself some bad news. My forest had died, they said. Acid rain. Came from the big city, they said. All my carbon credits had been wiped out, they said. Well, get me another forest, I said. Nothing by halves. I intend to do this properly, I said. I got myself a building team, and sent it over to Quaassoorrqq. I told them to start work on the new swimming pool. Nordic design, saunas and steam rooms. You’re going to love it, I said. I gave the whole town a bonus. Ethical fossil fuel extraction, I said. I got myself a little oil spill. It was a freak accident. It really wasn’t much at all, but the foolish seabirds landed right in it, and then there were some sad-eyed seals, their fur matted with the stuff, and I heard the whales weren’t looking too great either. The Greens came out again, more furious even than before, trying to mop up the wildlife. I’m awfully sorry, I said. Here, can I make a donation to your clean-up operations? I never meant to hurt anyone, I said. It turns out there’s a fundamental problem with the far North. If you spill just a tiny bit of oil, scarcely any at all, it sits out there on the ocean for years. There’s not enough warmth to evaporate it away. Well, how was I meant to know that? You can’t be expected to know everything, I said. I got myself a mysterious sickness in the local population. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with me, I said. They had an unhealthy diet anyway. Too much meat. They need to eat more vegetables, I said. A few of them died and then the rest slouched around for weeks, they could hardly get out of bed. It was the something god of whatever punishing them, they said. So I called a local meeting, came all the way back to the shore. It’s all under control, I said. So we’ve had a couple of accidents. I paid their families, I wrote letters. I’m sorry about the oil spill and it really won’t happen again, I said. They were looking suspicious, they wouldn’t even meet my gaze. Fifty-fifty, I said. Relax, I’m a nice guy, I said. I got myself a bizarre nocturnal accident. I was under a lot of pressure, all that money I’d spent, and now the cost of cleaning up the oil spill, and paying off the families of the sick and dead. I couldn’t sleep one night, ergonomic stress, the swell was savage, so I went to get some air on the deck. The creepy northern lights, pulsing above me. They had really started to get on my nerves. I must have dozed on a bench. I was clutching a harpoon gun when I fell asleep, that was the mistake I made. Just a little harpoon gun, I’d bought it as a joke. I never meant to fire it, I said. But something startled me, I woke up suddenly, the poor guy didn’t stand a chance. The harpoon went straight into his head. I got myself some general condemnation. I was a danger to the local people, they said. I’d splashed oil all over their coast. I’d poisoned and murdered them, they said. Just a tiny little spill, I said. A dreadful misunderstanding, I said. I was guilty of criminal mismanagement, they said. Well, that really hurt. I’d been nothing but generous. I’d made a fifty-fifty deal, I’d given them bonuses, work on the Nordic swimming pool was almost finished, I said. We don’t want your blood money, they said. Blood money! I’ve never been so insulted in my life, I said. Look, I’d be the first to concede that there are some bad people in the fossil fuel industry, I know that as well as you, but I’m an ethical extractor of fossil fuels, I said. Your license is revoked, they said. You’ve got to be kidding, I’m not going anywhere, I said. I got myself an ultimatum from an international court. I had a week to leave the area or they’d take action, they said. But don’t you think you’re being a bit hasty, I said? The bright spark said, I think it might be time to go home now. Perhaps you’re in danger of outstaying your welcome, he said. The locals all left the platform. I’d prepared a little speech, thanking them for their work, saying what a pleasure it had been, collaborating in this innovative cross-cultural way, how I hoped this would be the first of many such ventures. They went silently into their boats. Well, some people have no manners, I said. I got myself a no-win situation. Either I left or Interpol would scupper my platform, they said. Well, that seemed unethical on all sides, such a waste of resources. Someone has to be high-minded, I said. So I towed my little oil platform all the way down to the south again. The police came by boat to intercept me. Well, this is a waste of taxpayers’ money, I said. Why don’t you go and catch some proper criminals, I said. I got myself a spell in prison. I was lucky it wasn’t worse, they said. The bright spark stopped returning my calls. Another fair-weather friend, I said. I had no choice but to sell my forest to a multi-national logging company who wanted the wood to make coffin lids. That pained me deeply, but my debtors had to be paid, they said. At least in jail you can’t spend any money, I said. I live in Sidcup now. I like it here, the sky is always grey. No dancing green lights and no showy pink sea. Job Centre Extra Plus found me a position as barman at the local golf club. Not quite what I had in mind, I said. In general I like to work with the under-privileged, I said. I overheard two regulars discussing a business venture. Uranium, one of them said. It’s the future. But the thing about uranium is that most people who do it are fundamentally not very nice. Lacking in basic morals, if you know what I mean. Uncivilised. So this friend of mine has an idea to do ethical uranium mining, he said. The most decent-minded uranium extraction in the world, he said. You pay the workers at the mine a good wage, you give them a load of perks, you build the local community a brand new disco dance hall, anything they like. No more people in ankle chains, dropping dead of cancer, no more horror stories about three headed puppies, he said. I thought I really had to stop him. I wanted to say, don’t even try, they’ll never thank you. Don’t even bother, I almost said. But I opened my mouth and the words came out wrong. Liquefied death, I said. For a moment, the bar went quiet. Then someone said, Is that one of your new cocktails? And everyone laughed. Liquefied death, let’s have some of that, they said. • Supported by the National Lottery through Arts Council England Fiction Original writing Oil Oil spills BP oil spill Joanna Kavenna guardian.co.uk