Sent: Friday, July 15, 2022, 6:50 AM
To: Aleksandr Petrov
Subject: Re: Draft Plan
Amazing. Got it.
I mean, Aleksandr, now that we’re talking—if we really want to go big, see actual behavioral change, we could align our executive incentive plans with ESG goals. Instead of short-term financial performance, let’s introduce exec pay structures that tie compensation directly to ESG outcomes? E.g., a group goal re: verified reductions in financed emissions = bonus pay-out triggers.
Or offer preferential management services to clients based on strict sustainability metrics? I can pull up a list nowon ideal metrics. Let’s use our financial leverage to push decarbonization? Maybe even refuse to manage assets for corps that are heavy polluters, that won’t do transition plans, won’t talk emission reductions schemes?
The possibilities are exciting, and endless!
From: Aleksandr Petrov
Sent: Friday, July 15, 2022, 6:54 AM
To: Andrew Vasiliev
Subject: Re: Draft Plan
Andrew, I said a phased, structured plan.
Not wholesale arson.
From: Andrew Vasiliev
Sent: Friday, July 15, 2022, 8:55 AM
To: Aleksandr Petrov
Subject: Draft Plan
Got it. Draft attached.
Let me know thoughts, then I’ll route through Kara to get investment stewardship on board. I’m around all day. I’ll make time for this.
Flipping the page, slightly stunned, Lili now understands why he printed out the exchange: it’s a proposal, heavily marked up. His stern, slanting handwriting layers the margins. Pushing on points, questioning logic, urging a deeper dive into aspects of impact—it’s the initial sketches of a real commitment to a phased divestment plan from fossil fuel giants, with hard goals, prioritized reinvestment schemes, and a clear-cut draft policy on how to wield BlackRiver’s significant shareholder voting power through its massive index fund holdings. Andrew even snuck in a truegreen investment fund proposal with third-party oversight; the idea bears a single but clear check mark in Aleksandr’s hand beside it.
Lili sets the papers down.
Trying not to smile—but failing miserably—she slips out of his office, shutting the door quietly behind her. She heads down the hall to her friends, arms full of towels, feeling like she has some shiny secret. “If you want to shower,” she offers when she’s back in the huge living space, gesturing towards the guest rooms, the other side of the loft, “bathrooms are down that way.”
“It’s fine,” Jackie says. She begins to tousle her hair dry with one of the towels. “No point, everything’s wet. This blow-dry’s done for already.”
Lili shrugs. She pulls off her shirt, laying it over the kitchen counter so it can drip-dry. She wraps one of the towels around her shoulders, her sports bra only semi-damp.
Amina’s wandering the big, open loft. Her shoes are kicked off by the door, but her bare feet still avoid the white rug, leaving damp imprints of her soles on the wood floor.
“It’s a nice place,” Amina comments. She seems surprised as she looks over the tall windows, the high ceilings: the Twombly, the sprawling white couch, the record collection.
“Not as...” Jackie trails off. “Ostentatious, as I thought it’d be.”
Lili raises an eyebrow. “What were you expecting?”
“Like, where’s the embalmed Hirst shark?” Amina says, grabbing a towel.
“Right—and okay, where have you fucked?” Jackie interjects. “I don’t want to sit there.”
