"Here's the coolest part," Tony promised as he led them towards a pavilion where the crew had laid a tarp over the mud and were doing their finalized calculations on a herd of laptops. The journalist scrambled to keep up, stretching out her arm with the microphone to not miss a second, glaring at her cameraman trudging along behind and panting. "Throughout the day we will be setting up another four of these, to create a star pattern that will achieve coverage of 53% of the island, focusing on the areas most effected by the earthquakes. The important thing to keep in mind is that this is in no way a cure," Tony went on, and when he stopped he was speaking directly to the journalist, catching her eye and watching her so steadily she blushed and attempted to make inspecting the buttons on her blouse look very important. "The goal here is to limit the spread of malaria, but it is only going to be replaced with something else. There will always be an outpouring of assistance to combat the disease, and there hasn't been a shortage of medication or hospital staff since the earthquake spiked awareness, but the real plague here is the poverty that will continue to keep Haiti dependent on that support." He shifted then, breaking his spell on the journalist, who looked back at her cameraman with her eyebrows raised, not sure what to make of this statement or what kind of follow up question it required. Meanwhile, Tony was leaning over one of the technician's shoulders for a quite conference that ended with a nod and a smile at Sue. "Check it out."
With the press of a button, the hydraulic monument that had efficiently been erected shot a metal spike deep into the ground with a single, powerful blast that had birds screeching and taking to the sky for miles. Sometime between the start and finish of this, someone had handed Tony a celebratory glass of whiskey, which he raised in toast to the bewildered Ms. Helen.