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cubes that project an orderly municipal competence. At seven and nine stories, they are the
tallest things in town. The next block down you'll find the Boomtown Casino, busy even
at midnight on a Tuesday, as the people of Fort McMurray feed their oil sands money into
slot machines.
Downtown sits on the triangle of land where the Athabasca and Clear water Rivers con-
verge and run north. But Fort McMurray is growing. Just across the Athabasca, a loop of
fresh suburbs three times the size of downtown sprawls up the hill. In the eight years pre-
ceding the global economic slowdown of 2008, the city's population nearly doubled, to
about a hundred thousand people. Housing is therefore exceedingly tight in Fort McMur-
ray, and prices are closer to what you might expect in Toronto than in some town a five-
hour drive from anywhere. Places to live are in such short supply, and the population drawn
by oil sands work so transient, that some twenty-five thousand people—nearly a quarter of
all residents—live in work camps provided by the oil sands companies. Which is to say,
they don't really live here at all.
I arrived on a broad summer day, the sky smooth and bright and warm. I was staying
with Don and Amy, an affable couple I had contacted through friends. Along with a teenage
son, they lived in a two-story house in one of the recently built suburbs. Don was tall and
thoughtful and wore socks with his shorts. Amy was small, dark-haired, and sprightly in a
way that made her seem much younger than she was. They were in the full flower of middle
age, spending their free time hiking and bicycling when the seasons allowed it. Hospitality
seemed to come to them as a natural side effect of owning a house, and although they had
no idea who I was or why I was there, they gave me my own bedroom upstairs and let me
have the run of their fridge.
They both worked for oil sands companies: Amy for Suncor, Don for Syncrude. These
are Canada's two primary oil sands companies, and each reliably pulls in billions of dollars
in annual profits. Amy did leadership training, while Don was an engineer.
What, they wondered, was I doing in Fort McMurray?
I didn't want to say I had come to their town to see how the very two companies they
worked for were ruining the world. It's this phobia I have about not seeming like a total
asshole. So I gave them the long, squirmy version, something about environment and in-
dustry and seeing for myself and—
“Well,” said Amy brightly. “We both work for the dark side.”
The dark side?
Don scratched his head. “I don't know if you heard about our duck episode.”
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