by Perrin Briar
“Don’t take your coat off,” Kate said. “We’ll only be here a minute.”
They entered the room and approached a large door. They pushed it open. The sight took Hamish’s breath away.
They were standing in a large greenhouse, something you would not expect to see at the end of the world. The walls were made of glass. Sunlight filtered into the room and bathed the greenery. A complex series of pipes ran over the plants, releasing a soft mist spray. Some were saplings, others fully-grown and bearing fruit and vegetables. Two people walked amongst the plants, wearing only T-shirts smudged with dirt.
Kate plucked a couple cherry tomatoes and tucked them in her pocket.
“Hey,” Kate said, approaching the pair.
“Here comes trouble,” Jeff said.
“What do you mean?” Kate said. “I’m nothing but sweetness and light.”
“Trouble’s always soon to follow when you have that grin on your face,” Jeff said.
“I can’t help what trouble gets up to,” Kate said.
Jeff rolled his eyes.
“Who’s this?” Lindsey said.
“This is Hamish,” Kate said.
“Hamish,” Jeff said. “Nice to meet you.”
He extended a thick hand with dirt under the nails. Hamish shook it. It was about the same size as Hamish’s gloved hand.
“How was your trip?” Jeff said.
“Not bad, thanks,” Hamish said.
“Our trip over was awful,” Lindsey said. She nodded at Jeff. “He gets seasick.”
“Can you blame me with the sea rolling the way it was?” Jeff said.
“Calm as a pond, it was,” Lindsey said.
“A raging tempest,” Jeff said.
“Now you’re in for it,” Lindsey said. “You’ve set him off on one.”
“I’m not ‘off on one’,” Jeff said. “I’m merely telling the story as it happened.”
“As you recall it happened,” Lindsey said.
There was something somehow rehearsed about the argument. Kate must have been aware of its regular route and hastily interrupted.
“Can we borrow a ski?” Kate said.
Jeff turned his eye on Kate, looking her up and down, as if suspecting something afoot.
“You remember what happened the last time I let you have a ski?” he said.
“The ground was uneven,” Kate said. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“So the guilty always say,” Jeff said. “What’s the emergency this time? Need a fresh breath of air? Because the ski shed certainly doesn’t need another air hole.”
“No, no,” Kate said. “Nothing like that. I want to show Hamish Betsy.”
“He hasn’t seen Betsy yet?” Lindsey said.
“As you can see,” Kate said. “It’s an emergency.”
Jeff pursed his lips and then nodded.
“All right,” he said. “That sounds emergency enough to me.”
He reached into his pocket. He feigned tossing the key to Kate.
“Make sure to bring her back in one piece,” he said.
“I will,” Kate said.
Jeff tossed the key to Kate.
“Take number one,” he said. “She’s topped up.”
“Thanks, Jeff,” Kate said. “Come on, Hamish!”
Come on, Hamish! All at once Hamish was twenty years younger, and following Kate through the woods behind their street on a new adventure.
“What is it?” Hamish said. “What’s Betsy?”
“You’ll see,” Kate said with a giggle.
The icy wind bit deep into Hamish the moment he stepped outside. He was thankful they would soon be heading inside again. They headed for the middle shed.
It looked to be the oldest of all the structures, its wood worn and splintered. Kate used the key Jeff had given her to unlock the padlock on the chain that restrained the two front doors. They were not especially strong doors, and Hamish had no doubt the chain was much tougher. Anyone wishing to get inside would simply have to break down the doors. It would leave you open to the elements, but you would be inside. The truth was, the elements were the strongest defense available anyway.
The little light that filtered through the small windows and holes along the fringes did little to brighten the room, and nothing at all to illuminate the corners, which were steeped in shadow. It made Hamish feel nervous. Anything could be inside them. He’d seen The Thing too many times to completely trust the darkness in a landscape such as this.
Kate approached the smaller of the two black lumps in the middle of the room and pulled a cover back, revealing a snow mobile. Presumably the one beside it was simply a larger version.
“Is this Betsy?” Hamish said.
Kate threw her head back and let out a laugh that tinkled like a melting icicle. It was high and danced in Hamish’s ears.
“No,” Kate said. “This isn’t Betsy.”
She moved to the back of the room and fiddled with something that rattled. Hamish suspected it was another chain, though he couldn’t see it. Then Kate went to one of the dark shadowed corners and came out with a pair of helmets. She handed one to Hamish and put the other on her head. Kate got on the front of the snow mobile.
“Hop on,” she said.
She didn’t have to tell Hamish twice. He shoved his helmet on and jumped on behind her. She felt warm in his arms. He let himself believe they were a couple, heading out into the countryside for a nice drive… in frigid cold temperatures. Underneath the smell of sweat he could make out her perfume. It drove his senses wild.
Smell was said to be the strongest sense to stimulate the mind’s memories. It certainly worked for Hamish now. It contained the memories of them together in their youth, of long walks and tranquil places, and the overwhelming pursuit of adventure in their own backyards. That was the amazing thing about being a kid: you could do anything because you believed anything was possible. Life hadn’t beaten reality into you yet and you were left alone to dream and play and yes, fall in love.
He gripped Kate tighter as she turned the snow mobile’s engine on. She must have felt him holding her tight, but she made no complaint.
The snow mobile’s engine roared like a powerful motorcycle engine. Its tremors rose up his legs and back. Kate took a moment, adjusting something or other on the snow mobile’s controls. She twisted the throttle and the snow mobile slowly edged forward. Hamish leaned forward and back, depending on how the snow mobile was moving, trying to keep balance.
They were moving toward the back wall. Hamish wanted to speak in Kate’s ear, that they were going to collide with it. But he didn’t. She knew what she was doing. At least, he hoped she did.
She didn’t seem to take any notice of the fact the shed’s wall was heading right for them. She edged closer and closer until they were about to touch it. She slowed and let the snow mobile gently kiss it. She applied more power, and the door began to drift open.
The light glared, bouncing off the snow, warming their faces. At the same time, the sharp wind breathed across their features as the doors opened fully and the world beckoned them.
The snow mobile took a small ramp and rose into the air. It was only a few inches, but the landing was hard. The air was knocked from Hamish’s lungs. He could feel the chuckle around Kate’s ribs. He couldn’t help smiling at himself.
The scenery rushed by like a dream, full of white and black, like the world had been drained of color. The engine was loud, but warm. Hamish could feel it through the seat.
A huge shape rose in the distance. At first it was invisible, part of the landscape that birthed it, seeming to float up into the sky. He wasn’t sure if it was just a large cloud rising up with the horizon, but as they got closer, he could make out its jagged edge and solid base. It was a mountain.
The cold wind bit at the bare skin on Hamish’s face. It was a little painful, not the kind you get with an illness, but what you get after a good workout session. He let it take him, let himself get consumed
by it. He wished he could speak with Kate, but the wind roaring past his ears and the throbbing engine wouldn’t permit it. He let himself enjoy the moment with Kate, his childhood sweetheart.
“Oh, Jesus!” Hamish said.
He slid across the seat toward the left-hand edge. They were zipping along a giant ledge that overlooked the ocean far below. The cliffs were pure white, whiter even than the famed precipices at Dover. And dangerous. One mistake, and they would fall to their doom. Hamish thought back to the warning Jeff had said in passing regarding Kate’s driving ability, or lack thereof. Had he mentioned an accident? Hamish clenched his eyes shut and tightened his grip around Kate’s waist.
The engine sputtered as Kate brought the snow mobile to a stop. They clambered off. Hamish’s legs were unsteady. He wasn’t as cold as he’d thought. His fingers moved freely in their snug glove confines. Kate looked fine, with red-cheeked freshness. He supposed he looked the same.
The water was lumpy with shards of ice, and washed against the great ice cliffs with the tide.
“This is incredible,” Hamish said.
“This is Betsy,” Kate said. “She runs all the way along the edge here, and then up and around there. It’s one of the largest ice sheets in the world.”
Hamish had never seen anything like it. A whole new world, white, pure and virtually untouched.
There was an almighty crack, followed by a surge and a rush of something, like a herd of hippos heading directly for them. The ground shook, and Hamish almost lost his balance. Kate stood rock steady. Evidently she was used to such things. Hamish calmed with Kate’s lack of concern. The ground screamed, roaring, and then cried out into the breast of silence.
And then he saw it.
“Oh my God,” Hamish said.
A vast ice shelf broke off and spilled into the sea, pulled under by the water’s icy clutches like a hungry lover. The sea embraced the ice, turning it into a shimmering white star that spun end over end. Ragged corners of the giant iceberg cracked and snapped off, like it was at the potter’s wheel, being reformed, shaped and smoothed. It slowed, and then began rolling in the opposite direction. A wave broke and stretched for the horizon. God worked the Earth, an unfinished piece, constantly evolving and changing.
“It’s incredible,” Hamish said. His voice was tight, taken up with emotion.
“And sad,” Kate said. “That ice will never again be a part of its mother. She birthed it anyway, for it to go on its own journey. No matter how many times I see it, it never looks like the shard wants to leave.”
“It’s beautiful,” Hamish said, still at a loss for words.
“It really is,” Kate said. “It’s called calving. Very much like giving birth. The largest recorded iceberg was named Iceberg B-15 with an area over 11,000 km², larger than the island of Jamaica. The temperatures here are sometimes lower than Mars. The snow in this region never melts. Glaciers and ice sheets cover landscapes, valleys, and mountains and flow towards the sea.
“Right beneath our feet is an almost complete history of the weather on our planet. There are untouched blocks of ice so deep there are flakes of ash inside them from an ancient powerful eruption. It could have almost ended all life as we know it, could have been the biggest event in the Earth’s history since its formation… And we’re not even sure which volcano caused it. But we know, almost to the exact year, when it happened.”
Hamish shook his head.
“Nature is incredible,” he said.
It was one of the reasons many scientists became scientists. They were in awe of the world and the universe and wanted to understand it fully. To leave something to the supernatural or mysterious was not what scientists did, though they loved mysteries and unexplained questions. This love stemmed from their desire to attempt to answer them. Every problem had a solution. The fun was in trying to discover what the solution was, knowing there would be further questions afterward, without end.
“It is,” Kate said. “And we should be protecting it. We’ve only got one planet. That’s all. One experiment. Sometimes I think what we’re doing isn’t making any difference. You can show as much evidence to someone as you like but if they’ve already made up their mind about what they’re seeing then there’s nothing you can do.
“There’s going to be a science conference in London next week, but they probably won’t listen to the evidence again. And soon, it will be too late. People always assume something will come up, something will be invented to save the day, and maybe it will, but we shouldn’t be relying on miracles.”
“The people with the money so often get to choose the future,” Hamish said.
“Which is why people like Dr. Scott are so important,” Kate said. She corrected herself: “Were so important. I still can’t believe he’s gone, sometimes. How did you know him?”
“I didn’t, really,” Hamish said.
“You must have met him at some point,” Kate said. “He wanted you to take his place on this project.”
“I’m as stumped as you are,” Hamish said. “I mean, I’ve published things he probably read. And I met him once. At a conference in Atlanta. I asked a question about the evolution of viruses amongst primates – my thesis topic.”
“Pretty sexy,” Kate said.
“I doubt he remembered me from that,” Hamish said.
“How did he reply?” Kate said.
“That such an occurrence was possible, but incredibly unlikely,” Hamish said. “I started a new thesis project the next day.”
“Informed investors,” Kate said. “That’s what the world needs. Not someone who just looks at the bottom line. There’s nowhere else on Earth like this place.”
“It’s so quiet, calm and peaceful,” Hamish said.
He didn’t think he’d been in such a quiet location before. There were moments when the wind died down and the universe forgot this corner of the planet. Silence in its purest form. And then there would be the gentle slosh and trickling splash as a small shelf of ice slipped into the water. It really was calming, as close to a spiritual experience as Hamish had ever had.
Kate lifted a small box off the back of the snow mobile and sat it down on the ice. Hamish hadn’t even noticed her carrying it earlier. Kate reached inside and took out a waterproof blanket. She laid it on the snow and smoothed it out. She opened the box and began to take food out. Hamish couldn’t help but smile.
“A picnic?” he said. “In the Antarctic?”
Only Kate could think nothing was strange about that.
“I hope you like cold food,” Kate said. “I brought some soup, but it won’t stay warm long.”
“Sounds great,” Hamish said.
He played his part, sitting and crossing his legs. There were sandwiches, sausage rolls, bars of chocolate. Healthy stuff. But it was exactly what Hamish wanted right then. It reminded him of when they were kids and their mothers would make them food to eat under the blankets they’d erected as their base of operations.
“I wonder what our younger selves would have said, seeing us here,” Hamish said.
“Disappointed, no doubt,” Kate said. “Everyone grows up thinking they’re going to be someone great, will go on to change the world for the better. Instead we become regular people.”
“I don’t think you could ever be a regular person,” Hamish said.
Kate smiled and nodded at what other girls would have considered a backhanded compliment.
“But what else is there?” Hamish said. “Besides doing something you love and being with the people you care about.”
“Nothing, I suppose,” Kate said. “Helping others. Helping the world to improve.”
“That’s what science does,” Hamish said.
It was interesting, seeing Kate in such surroundings. She was always so noisy and full of life. To see her like this, so introspective and calm… It belied the depths she’d always had but rarely allowed to surface. Those who were obsessed with the frivolous, with the insignificant, who cou
ldn’t exist for five seconds without checking their phones and the latest celebrity news, would have been bored silly in a place such as this. But for those with the skill of introspection, to understand the greater scheme of the universe, and to want to understand their place within it, it was heaven.
But Hamish wasn’t beyond the insignificant either, and couldn’t help asking Kate the question that had been plaguing him since he arrived that morning:
“So, you and Daniel,” he said.
He studied her expression. Her eyelashes blinked rapidly as she considered her answer. She took her eyes to the landscape and the horizon. Hamish regretted asking the question. The mood, the magic, was broken.
Kate took a calm breath.
“It gets lonely down here on this ice cube,” she said. “Pickings are slim. He’s a nice guy. I’m single, and so is he.”
Kate wasn’t the type to make apologies, even if she was the one to blame. Which in this case, she wasn’t.
“I understand,” Hamish said.
He wanted to change the topic, fast.
“What brought you here?” he said.
“Oh, the usual,” Kate said. “The pursuit of fame and fortune.”
She grinned. Such things were accidents in the academic world. It was always best to do something you enjoyed rather than something you dreaded each day, even if it didn’t pay as well. That was the problem with the modern world. People felt they were entitled to a good job with great pay. They looked down on jobs that did not provide them with the esteem and money they’d grown up assuming they would inherit. Some put in the hard work and got the job they wanted. That was fair enough. But there were so many who didn’t do the work, but still wanted to be the next big singer, actor or celebrity. Whatever ‘celebrity’ meant. It used to mean something. Now, anyone and everyone was a celebrity. All they had to do was get enough views on YouTube.
“I came here to study the ice,” Kate said. “Not much call for that in Florida.”
They’d shared their childhood together, playing games of imagined adventure. The type where they could go anywhere, do anything. It was child’s play, but it was important play for later life when such experiences were frowned upon. No adult made up stories, except filmmakers, writers and artists, but those were difficult industries to break into and make a living from. Plus, they often didn’t provide the adventure and fame and fortune everyone assumed they did, save to a lucky minority.
