“Two esteemed members of Congress will be traveling to the ice next week, and because of the circumstances there will be new protocols. I’m going to introduce Karl Martin, our fearless VIDS president of Polar Operations, who will explain what’s going to happen.”
A man in a three-day scruff-beard, Kangol hat, and Carhartt work pants slapped the knee of the man next to him, stood up, and walked toward the microphone. His corporate mien was unmistakable, despite his clumsy attempts at native dress. Until this moment, Karl Martin had been nothing more than a reference point to most of the Polies—a corporate PR photo affixed to the dart board in the Smoke Bar.
“Maybe I should have worn my full ECW gear,” Karl said into the microphone. “I mean, I see the black and green parkas, which is—heh heh—let’s just put it out there: they make you the badasses. Nothing like those red parkas at McMurdo.”
No one in the audience appreciated the pandering: the distant roar of the power plant was the only sound in the room.
Martin cleared his throat. “I get the feeling that I should get to the point, so folks, I’m going to speak frankly. The last week has been difficult for everyone. The blame game, rumors flying, tension between coworkers. These are all things that can complicate a working environment. Our goal at VIDS is, and always has been, a safer and more secure global community. Whether we’re in Kabul, Tripoli, or right here at South Pole, it’s our guiding principle. So when something like this happens—the tragedy that unfolded at an NSF research camp—we’re shaken. And even though the actors involved were not VIDS contractors, nor were they working at an official VIDS work site, we feel let down. And although no VIDS employees or VIDS-issued matériel were involved in this workplace incident—which, again, unfolded at a National Science Foundation research camp and involved NSF Fellows—we are reminded that safety is of the utmost importance. And our hearts go out to the NSF, which bears complete responsibility for this incident.” People began murmuring, and Martin, sensing he was losing the room, reloaded.
“You know, this is tough, unprecedented stuff. I’m not going to stand here and pretend like I’m a great scientific mind, but I am a decent scholar of humanity—decades in various theaters of war will make you one. Now, I know we say that South Pole is the only apolitical place on the planet, a place where science trumps ideology. That’s how we like it. That’s why we’re here. Nations collaborate, and have collaborated, here for many decades, overlooking policy differences to come together in order to advance science and human thought. I mention this because the individuals who will be visiting the station in the next week are, by any definition, political figures.
“As you know, our friends at the NSF typically restrict official visits to the station to dignitaries like presidents and ambassadors. However, due to circumstances, NSF has invited a couple of our national legislators to come see the station, have a look around.”
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that they’re on the Congressional Budget Committee, would it?” Sal called from his seat next to Cooper.
“Mr. Brennan, right?” Martin said.
“Dr. Brennan.”
“Sorry—Dr. Brennan, wouldn’t want to neglect the honorific.”
“It’s not an honorific, it’s an earned title.”
The chuckles from the audience made Martin set his chin.
“Dr. Brennan, you’ll need to take up your concerns with Alexandra Scaletta. The fortunes of the support staff who make your experiments feasible are tied directly to congressional appropriation. And that’s my purview. In fact, let’s talk about the support staff for a minute. I expect those of you down here on contract will represent VIDS in a positive manner. You are not to address the visitors unless directly addressed by them; and in that case, you do not express an opinion. You will restrict any comment to your everyday duties on the ice or your families back home. Any comments beyond that will not be allowed. If you choose to ignore this, your contracts will not be renewed. We decided to keep it simple.”
“That’s draconian,” Floyd said from the front row. Martin looked down at him from the stage as if he were a pile of offal.
“I wonder if you know who Draco is?” Martin asked.
“A member of Devo?” Kit called between cupped hands.
But Floyd was seriously pissed. “I know what draconian means,” he said. “I used the term intentionally. What you’ve just described is draconian.” Onstage, Tucker remained inscrutable behind his sunglasses.
“I apologize,” Martin said. “For a moment I doubted your grasp of the word’s meaning because you said it like you think you’re insulting me. In the places where VIDS operates, draconian systems are key to survival. Before Draco instituted his code of laws in Athens, daily life was governed by blood feuds. Draconian law gives members of a community clear expectations and consistent consequences. And if Lockheed Martin wins the contract next year because the NSF budget is cut, you’ll be praying to Draco that they hire you. Based on your demeanor, I wouldn’t count on it.”
From the back of the gym, a lone voice called out, “Tom Waits.”
*
First came a procession of lower-level VIDS directors in from Denver. NSF reps arrived shortly thereafter, recognizable by their clumsy attempts to blend in. Together, they prowled the halls and tried to chat up the workers, drove out to the labs to “hang out” with the scientists, crashed 90 South asking for IPAs, and handed out swag from the agency’s last grant conference. Meanwhile, the Antarctic Sun newspaper, published out of McMurdo, indicated that the congressional delegation would include an assortment of political aides, as well as the two Republican congressmen who had gotten Pavano on the ice—Rep. Sam Bayless of Kansas and Rep. Jack Calhoun of Tennessee.
The Distinguished Visitors, known at Pole as DVs, arrived around midnight, blinking at the sun as they stumbled across the skiway toward the station. Cooper and the other Polies who had gathered to witness their arrival made their way up to the Smoke Bar immediately afterward to discuss.
The Polies were three drinks deep when Calhoun walked into the bar. His sudden appearance, and his shellacked coif, somehow unruffled by both his hood and the straight-line polar winds, caught everyone off guard. Even Bozer looked surprised.
Only Marcy spoke. “Congressman, you look like you need a drink.”
“Make that plural, and we understand each other,” Calhoun replied.
“One South Pole Highball,” Marcy called to Alek, who was playing bartender.
“How’d you find us?” Doc Carla asked, carelessly winding a rubber band around her fingers.
“Nice Afro-American man told me I could get a stiff drink here.”
Cooper and Sal exchanged an amused glance.
“So where’s your security detail, Congressman?” Sal asked. “Your advance team know you’re fraternizing with the enemy?”
“An honest man has no enemies,” Calhoun replied, taking the seat next to Pearl, who was knitting another scarf for Birdie.