HC took the telegram back, folded it carefully, and tucked it next to his heart. “Tomorrow. The first rig is a rust bucket held together by hope. But hope, Anna—hope is the one resource we’ve never drilled for.”
“I’m not trying to erase what we are, Anna. I’m trying to give us a choice. Right now, the only choice is fish or starve. But if Phillips finds what I think they will…” He let the sentence hang, heavy as a trawler’s anchor. Lykkeland -State of Happiness- - season 1 -HC E...
He pulled a folded telegram from his inside pocket. It was brief, typed in the clipped language of American oilmen: HC ERIKSEN – SEISMIC PROMISING. EKOFISK STRUCTURE CONFIRMED. STOP. NEED LOCAL LIASON. STOP. YOU IN OR OUT? STOP. Anna read it twice. Her hand trembled slightly—from cold, or from fear, she didn’t know. HC took the telegram back, folded it carefully,
“When do you leave?” she asked.
That stung. Anna’s father had lost a brother in the war. HC saw her flinch and softened his voice. But hope, Anna—hope is the one resource we’ve
Anna looked at the water. Then at the sky, heavy with November.