The ribbon-cutting ceremony was planned like a military operation. White tents covered the salt flats, and corporate logos decorated the landscape. Government officials talked with mining executives while cameras filmed everything.
"They've hidden the worst contaminated areas," Elena said angrily. She held binoculars and watched from their car. "The cameras won't see the pollution from here."
Polly held the stolen drive in her talons. "How do we get their attention? Security is everywhere now."
"Leave that to me," Joaquín said quietly. He had driven across these flats for thirty years. "I know every journalist and official here."
What happened next was like a storm breaking. The company president lifted golden scissors to cut the ribbon. Then Joaquín walked through the security line. The guards recognized him and hesitated.
"Minister Vargas," he called out loudly. "I have something important to show you."
The cameras turned toward him immediately. Elena chose that moment to send the data to every news outlet in Bolivia. Their plan might actually work.
But the mining company had resources too. "Mr. Quispe," the president said smoothly. "Perhaps you can share your concerns after the ceremony?"
Then Polly noticed something the others missed. Workers with industrial pumps were moving toward the traditional harvest grounds.
"They're flooding the ceremonial grounds right now!" she squawked loudly. The microphones caught her voice. "While you're watching this fake ceremony!"
The crowd erupted. Journalists ran to their cars. Officials demanded explanations. Elena's data began spreading on social media with #SaltFlatScandal.
But damage to the ceremonial grounds had already started. Joaquín watched his heritage dissolve into contaminated water.
"You have no idea what you've done," the president hissed at Elena. "The contracts are signed. We'll extract the lithium anyway."
"Maybe," Elena replied calmly. "But now the world is watching."
As security led them away, Polly flew overhead with the drive. The evidence was public now. But below, the sacred salt pools were changing color. The ancient white was becoming the pale green of industrial progress.
The revolution had begun, but at a terrible cost.
