by Andrea White
Polly examined the empty deck. “Do you sometimes get lonely?” she asked.
“No.” Grace looked at Polly curiously. This girl’s head held so many books, but it contained no friends. Grace had her grandfather inside her head, and she could talk to him whenever she wanted.
“You don’t talk very much,” Polly said.
“It’s snowing.” Grace pointed at the sky.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Polly said. She couldn’t focus on anything but the tragedy of Scott and his men. “But this I know: we on this journey were already beginning to think of death as a friend,” she mumbled.
“What?” Grace said.
Polly couldn’t hold back her tears. “That’s what one of Scott’s men wrote. Oh, Grace, I don’t think any of us are going to make it.”
“Is that what your books tell you?” Grace said.
Polly nodded.
“Then throw them away.” Grace had been wrong. Polly did have friends in her head, but they were dying friends.
“I can’t.”
“Why not? Didn’t your mother tell you? You can know too much.”
Polly shook her head. She believed without any doubt that her knowledge of what had happened to Scott could make the difference in whether they survived or not, but watching her book friends die was hard. “I won’t bother you anymore. I’m going to go back in.”
Grace had opened her mouth to the snow. She acted as if she hadn’t heard Polly.
Polly settled back in her bunk with her book on her lap. She dared herself to flip the book open. She looked down at the page. It was Scott’s journal entry for March 3, not thirty days before his death: Amongst ourselves we are unendingly cheerful, but what each man feels in his heart I can only guess.
She forced her eyes to move down the page. March 4. We are in a very tight place indeed, but none of us despondent yet.
She scanned another entry near the end of the journal: Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman.
And again she read Scott’s last entry: For God’s sake look after our people.
Polly put her head in her hands. Her tears came freely now. She pulled the pillow to her face. It was more than 170 years after Scott’s death, but Polly cried as if Scott and his men had died that day in her tiny cabin.
Steve glanced at his watch. It was about time for him to begin his editing assignment. Chad and Jacob were sending their reports.
Billy’s, Robert’s, and Andrew’s screens had gone dark. Grace’s screen was filled with a starry evening sky. Polly’s screen looked like a windshield in a car wash.
“See you tomorrow,” Steve said to the five live screens before he turned away to begin his other work.
After passing through security, Steve pulled his pollution mask out of his pocket and covered his face with it. A low-lying haze had settled over Washington. The radio said that long periods outdoors, like the walk from the DOE to Steve’s home, should be avoided. But he didn’t want to waste his money on bus fare.
Steve turned the corner and started down the front walkway of the DOE. It was lined with statues of television stars. There was Jorna Morgaday, with her long hair and long legs and the trademark umbrella that she carried as protection from the newly discovered ultra-ultraviolet rays of the sun. Lyle Allen’s tough face was turned toward the street. Lyle, who had portrayed a policeman in a holomovie about the Urban Trash Wars, was holding an Urban Trash rifle. In his first film, Food Fight, he had battled the trash and food fights that had raged in cities across the country in the 2060s.
But the statues weren’t all of actors and actresses. The display also celebrated teachers on EduTV.
In one prominent sculpture Tanya, one of hundreds of national teachers, held a pencil in her hand. She had been Steve’s first teacher. He still remembered Tanya’s refined accent and alphabet-patterned dress. “Now, class,” she would say, “today we are going to study the letter D.” Sitting in front of the television, four-year-old Steve would take out his pencil and his notebook and try to write a D.
The flashing lights of the Department of Entertainment brought him back to the moment. Its motto, LET’S HAVE FUN, blinked on a giant sign above the building.
I’m not having fun, Steve thought. Those kids are not having fun. “The Secretary is the only one having fun,” he muttered out loud. Then, remembering his poor dead parents and the debt his family owed to Chad, he swallowed his anger and tried to make his face a mask as he passed under the shade of an emerald green instant palm tree.
15
ROBERT HEARD A loud bump. He guessed that it was around one A.M. After only five days, the Terra Nova must have docked. He wanted to go up to check, but his cabin felt cold. Over the next few weeks, they were going to have to haul equipment 150 miles in this same punishing cold. He needed his sleep. They all needed their sleep. He pulled the blanket over his head.
A couple of hours later, Robert awoke and immediately remembered the bump. It was time to get going. He was ready, had better be ready, to lead the expedition. He threw on his layers of clothes. After ringing the ship’s bell to wake the others, he walked to the mess hall. When he punched the BREAKFAST button, the shelf slid forward.
Shipchef had made them bacon and eggs again. As Robert ate at the counter, standing up, he mentally checked and rechecked the supplies that they had packed for the journey.
Billy walked in, feeling sleepy and grumpy. “Hey,” he mumbled. In case the viewers had seen his outburst, he had been working harder in hopes that the television audience would forgive him.
“Hey.” Robert grinned.
Even though Robert hadn’t formalized it, he thought of Billy as his first lieutenant. Billy was a little temperamental, but sound. The rest of the kids … well, the rest of the kids were just kids. Not that they were totally worthless …
“How’s your hand today?” Robert asked.
Billy looked down at his hand and was glad that the bandage hid the slight wound. “It still hurts.”
“Watch it carefully. We can’t risk an infection.”
“Good bacon,” Billy said, ignoring him.
“Yeah, I’m going to miss these breakfasts.”
“Have you looked outside?”
“No, but I’m going to.” Robert shoveled down his last bite. “See ya up there.” He stopped at the door. “If the others don’t show up in a minute, will you ring the bell again?”
“Sure.” Billy dreaded seeing this land of ice and snow. Again he regretted pretending that he was an expert. But what was his choice? If he hadn’t lied, he wouldn’t be here with the chance to earn one hundred thousand dollars.
Robert ran up and almost slipped on the icy deck. He slowed his pace and walked to the rail. He spotted a hut a short distance away. This must be Safety Hut, as shown on the map. A line from a hymn ran through Robert’s head: “God loves me so much that he made the sun shine at midnight.” It was four A.M., and the sun shone down on him as if it were a hazy afternoon back home.
Except for the dull sun, everything looked white and frozen. In the flat light, details were hard to make out.
This land is not one color, Robert thought, training his mind to be alert to his surroundings. This is your new environment. You have to notice everything about it. Straining to see more clearly, he broke the whiteness down into lavender white, greenish white, blue-white, yellow-white, rose-white…. He pulled a cord, and the gangplank slowly lowered.
As Robert waited, he wondered if he should say something for the cameras. He didn’t want to suck up, but at the same time he worried that if he ignored the cameras completely, all the viewers would hate him. He had no idea if he was getting much footage. If he knew the Secretary of Entertainment, she was probably covering Grace and the dogs.
The gangplank hit the snow.
“Land!” Robert called out, and then felt so ridiculous that he promised himself
he would never do anything for the television audience again. He raced to the bottom of the gangplank and stepped onto the snow. It crackled under his weight. His breath came out in white puffs that looked like Christmas tree ornaments hanging in the air.
As he hiked toward Safety Hut, his boots felt heavy, as if he were walking in sticky sand. He opened the door of the hut and nearly fell back in surprise. Two silver-and-blue machines filled half the shed. The term motor sledges had made him expect some old beat-up go-carts with big tires. These sledges looked like snow motorcycles with tow hookups. He heard someone running behind him and turned.
Billy joined him at the doorway. “Wow!” he said. They wouldn’t have to use those dogs after all.
“Where are the others?” Robert asked.
“They’re coming.”
Robert looked back and saw Grace, Andrew, and Polly trudging toward them.
Robert climbed on one of the bikes and turned the ignition. It purred like a sweetheart. Perfect that there were two of them. Billy and he could each ride one. Robert didn’t have to tell Billy his idea, because Billy jumped on the other snowcycle.
The engine on Billy’s cycle roared, then died.
The other three kids crowded into the hut.
“I hope there’s more dog food,” Grace was saying to Polly as they entered.
When Polly saw the shiny machines, she groaned. They looked like toys.
“What’s wrong?” Robert shouted above the roar of the motor.
“I told you. Scott had some motors, too,” Polly said, “but he had all sorts of problems with them.”
Billy opened the panel covering the engine. “What sorts of problems?”
Robert turned his motor off and walked over to help Billy.
Grace pulled the lid off one of the aluminum boxes.
“The cylinders overheated, while the carburetors froze. They wasted a lot of time trying to repair them,” Polly said.
Robert grinned. “Mine works like a charm.”
Grace peered into the box. “There’s no dog food.”
“Stop whining!” Billy said sharply. He had never been a good mechanic. If there was only one working snowcycle, he didn’t have to guess who would ride it, and it wouldn’t be him.
“Billy!” Polly scolded.
Grace defended herself. “The dog food on the ship is moldy. I need some fresh food.”
“I’m just sick of hearing about the dogs.” Billy stared resentfully at the dead engine.
“Billy’s right, Polly,” Robert said as he tinkered with the motor. “We’ve got to focus. If we need to, we’ll kill the ponies to feed the dogs.”
We can’t kill the ponies yet, Andrew thought. Maybe someday we’ll have to kill the ponies, but not yet.
Grace stared stonily into space.
“We do have to focus,” Polly said. “And you shouldn’t spend much time on those silly snowcycles. Motor sledges were losers for Scott, and I’m sure these cycles will be losers for us.” Their trip was a simulation of Scott’s. Something in Polly’s gut told her the Secretary would have made sure that these motors failed.
Robert examined the motor. Polly was assuming that if Robert Scott couldn’t do something, he, Robert Johnson, couldn’t do it either. Wrong. He was a great mechanic. Hadn’t he gotten more than one mud-drenched car to work? “How about if we drive the good one as far as we can and abandon it if it stops?”
“That’s fine,” Polly said. “But don’t spend a bunch of time trying to get the other one to start if it won’t.”
“It’s a deal,” Robert said. “And Grace, about the dogs, don’t forget that we might be able to kill a seal. Seal would be good for us to eat, too.”
“Yeah,” Billy said. “Better than that disgusting pemmican.” He still had a hard time believing that people in the nineteen hundreds had considered pemmican food.
Robert looked up from the motor. “So, Grace, you and Andrew unload the dogs and the ponies. Polly and Billy can help me bring the supplies down and load them onto the sleds.” He looked at Andrew. “Man, where is your coat?”
Andrew stood in the subzero temperature wearing only a woolen shirt. “It’s on the ship.”
“Am I going to have to be everyone’s father around here?” Robert shouted. “Wear your coat! It’s a matter of survival now that we are in Antarctica!”
Andrew reddened, and Robert reminded himself not to be too rough on the kid.
Polly put her arm around him. “Andrew, Robert is just telling you this for your own good.”
Andrew nodded, embarrassed.
“Wait,” Polly said. “We’ve never figured out what your special gift is.”
Andrew sighed.
“I’m not trying to be mean,” Polly continued, “but how long did you stay in the freezer?” In their tryouts for the contest, each of them had had to spend time in a freezer. When they got cold, they rang a bell to get out.
“I don’t remember,” Andrew said.
“I was in there for only a few minutes,” Polly said. “Aren’t you cold, Andrew? I mean now.”
Andrew shook his head.
“He’s our snowman,” Polly said to Robert and the others.
“You’re not cold?” Robert said.
Andrew shook his head again.
“How long do you think you stayed in the freezer?” Robert asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe an afternoon,” Andrew said. He had watched a small black-and-white TV in there.
“An afternoon!” Robert shouted.
Andrew nodded.
“That freezer was twenty below zero,” Billy said, looking at Andrew in awe.
Robert shook his head. “I don’t care. Wear your coat anyway. Just looking at you makes me nervous.”
“I’ve never worn a coat,” Andrew confessed. Now that he thought about it, he realized that he couldn’t remember ever wanting one, either.
“I’m freezing just standing here.” Polly hugged herself.
“Let’s go unload the ship, then,” Robert said. “We need to leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
Billy turned the ignition, and this time his machine roared. “Get out of my way!” he yelled.
The kids backed away. Billy drove the machine out of the hut and did a wheelie on the ice. “Yeehaw!”
Robert started his snowcycle and followed. Soon the two boys were making figure eights and kicking up clouds of loose snow.
Polly looked on somberly.
“I’m going to get the dogs,” Grace said.
“I’ll bring the ponies,” Andrew chimed in.
Nobody had asked Robert what his special gift was. Everybody had assumed that it was his leadership skills. But maybe, just maybe, his special gift was mechanics. He bet that he could keep these engines going where Scott and his men couldn’t. He’d work on them tonight. He did another wheelie.
Polly turned away to examine the landscape. She had experienced the great outdoors only through nature shows, and her first thought was that it was so, so big. Far away, she saw the jagged edges of icy mountains. The rest of the terrain was a flat white plain. The shed stuck out like a single word on a blank page.
She pounded her boot against the ground. The ice was hard, and she felt panic rise in her throat. The white expanse was endless. She could see for miles and miles.
“Andrew!” Polly shouted.
Andrew turned and stared at her.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
“What gives?” Andrew asked.
“Look.” Polly spread her arms toward the horizon. “Where could a camera crew hide?”
“Good point,” Andrew said. As he stared at the white land, he understood what Polly was saying. They were completely alone.
“I don’t get it.” Polly felt truly confused.
“How are they filming us?” Andrew asked. Surely Polly, who seemed to know everything, would figure this out.
Polly just shook her head. She felt so disappointed, she had trouble tal
king.
“The Secretary lied?” Andrew had sensed that the Secretary had been lying to them, so he couldn’t say that he was surprised.
“I guess so. Because there’s no camera crew here.” Polly spoke slowly. Each word hurt.
16
“TRIAL RUN!” Robert called. He buzzed off, the gear on his sled bouncing jerkily up and down and producing bursts of snow. He loved his cycle. This contest was fun. He roared past Billy, who was riding the other snowcycle.
Grace had no idea what time it was. When she had gone to sleep last night, the sun was lying low on the horizon like some kind of lazy yellow dog, and since then it seemed only to have had the energy to crawl sideways. But it had to be late afternoon, because her very bones were tired. She surveyed her hard day’s work: twelve dogs were fanned out in front of the loaded sled.
At the front of the team, T-Rex wagged his large tail as if ready to be off. Behind him Grace had placed Dryosaurus and Brontosaurus as her swing dogs. These two were smart enough to help T-Rex steer. The next several pairs of dogs were her team dogs. They didn’t need any particular skill other than strong muscles. She had struggled with where to put Triceratops, with her short legs, and finally decided that she would cause the fewest problems in the middle of the pack.
Her two steadiest dogs, Ankylosaurus and Polacanthus, Grace put last. They would be the first to feel the burden of the sled as the team started or traveled uphill. They would have to bear the constant pounding of the runners close behind them.
The snowcycles circled her again, and Grace decided that it was time for her own trial run. She stood on the plastic runners at the back of the sled and held on to the wooden handles. In her ancestors’ day sleds were sometimes made of walrus bone, and the handles were frozen fish.
Grace held no reins. She planned to use voice commands, as her ancestors had always done, and of course the whip. The handle of this whip was plastic. Her ancestors’ had been made out of the leg bone of a caribou. Just in case she needed a brake, she had brought along a paddle to drag in the snow. She had no idea what her people had used in the old days to slow the dogs down.
