“But I know you don’t care about my thoughts on science. You want to know about money. I know there’s a great deal of speculation about the status of the NSF’s budget. And it’s true that discussions about NSF’s operating budget, particularly for its polar operations, have been ongoing for the last few weeks—but so have the budgets of a number of federal agencies. This is not a deviation, it’s not a conspiracy. It’s part of the process. That being said, I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that the hostile working environment experienced by scientists working on alternative theories of so-called climate change has figured into the discussions as well.”
Bayless gestured to one of his aides, and the young man sped-walked to the podium and handed him a sheet of paper. “There’s still time to avert an unfortunate situation, so I want to talk about Frank Pavano for a moment. Dr. Pavano has been the victim of a systematic and sustained pattern of harassment based solely on his research.” Bayless consulted the paper. “On November sixth, he was denied a username and password to access the West Antarctic Divide server. This was blamed on a ‘majordomo error.’ The next day, a research paper he posted in the common area was defaced, and then later removed. On November fourteenth, Dr. Pavano found a threatening cartoon taped to the door to his room, which featured a crude drawing of Christ, sitting atop an Earth-like planet engulfed in flames. On December eighteenth, Dr. Pavano was notified by the climate research chief—in writing and on NSF letterhead—that due to budget constraints, he would not be assigned a drill tech on his final research trip to the West Antarctic Divide. This was later found to be a false statement, and Representative Calhoun and I intervened on his behalf. In the days leading up to his final trip to the ice-coring camp, he was removed from the flight manifest—twice. Both instances were blamed on administrative error. Finally, upon arriving at the camp, he was denied use of taxpayer-funded equipment necessary to his research.
“All of this culminated, as you know, in a tragic accident involving a South Pole citizen. An accident that can be laid squarely at the feet of liberal scientists who will stop at nothing to muzzle anyone who dares to challenge them. And now she sits among you.” Bayless peered into the audience. “Cooper Gosling, will you please stand up?”
Sal grasped Cooper’s hand. Alek, in the seat on her other side, shifted in his chair, but did not turn to look at her. Cooper said nothing, but noticed the NSF reps glancing at one another.
Calhoun, having been summoned to the podium, now scanned the audience.
“Cooper, are you here?”
Climb in the trench.
No one in the auditorium turned to look at Cooper; their eyes fixed on Calhoun and Bayless, they betrayed nothing. At the side of the stage, Tucker remained unreadable behind his sunglasses. Simon, the VIDS admin, and Warren, the NSF admin, pretended not to see her.
Kick out the roof.
Calhoun’s eyes finally found her, and for what felt like an age, he gazed at her.
Finally, he leaned over and whispered something to Bayless, and returned to his seat.
“Well, it looks like Cooper is not in the room,” Bayless said. “Which is a shame, because I think it’s important to underscore what needless collateral damage looks like. I understand this young woman is an artist. I imagine the kind of injury she suffered will have an impact on her future work. And it was completely preventable.
“I mention all this because there are factions in Washington calling for an agency-wide budget freeze because of this situation. Jack and I have smoothed a few ruffled feathers by proposing that some commonsense protocols be integrated into the NSF’s grant-making processes. Rather than quashing scientific dissent, such protocols would ensure that those scientists with a minority view are given access to the same research sites and same taxpayer dollars as majority-view scientists. We’ve also proposed simple, straightforward guidelines aimed at preserving the integrity of the research station. Scientists hostile to open, honest discussions lose their federal funding. More than one violation makes the program ineligible for federal grants for one year. An OSHA rep would be stationed here to ensure compliance. This approach protects the American taxpayer’s investment in science. However, the head of the NSF does not share my commitment to scientific integrity.”
“That’s a lie,” Sal said loudly.
“This is not a Q-and-A,” Karl Martin shouted between cupped hands. He gestured to one of his VIDS minions and then pointed at Sal.
“This the same guy as before? No, let him talk, Karl,” Bayless said. “This must be the alpha male scientist, I imagine.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m the alpha male,” Sal said to Bayless. He dropped Cooper’s hand and stood up. “Before even addressing the fact that your science is a failure, let’s examine the reasons why you’re even bothering to take up this subject, since I assume you are not a climatologist. I would probably further assume that your experiences with higher-level science are fairly limited.”
“It is indisputable that I am not a scientist. I make this point with some frequency.”
“So you vigorously oppose any policy—even any research—designed to halt climate change, while claiming that you do not know the science of climate change?”
“That’s enough,” Karl said, rising from his chair. Bayless put his hand up again, and Karl slowly sat down.
Sal continued, “Then you should be made aware of the fact that in the scientific community, there’s virtually unanimous consensus that the earth is warming. It’s not a matter of whether it’s getting hotter, it’s a matter of how hot it will get. I propose that instead of fearing this new knowledge, you accept it, and leave science to scientists. Please, Congressman, go home and let the grown-ups get some work done.”
Bayless stood at the lectern, smiling. There was something to fear in his smile, Cooper knew, and when she looked back at Sal, she knew he’d seen it, too. But it was Calhoun she watched. He was smiling, too—but his lapel pin was gone.
*
As soon as the congressmen were wheels up and flying home, the NSF brought all of the scientists, including Sal, into a closed-door meeting, which Tucker said would likely have a passing resemblance to a Chinese reeducation camp. The funded agencies and institutions, including both Sri’s and Sal’s universities, had been spooked by Bayless’s threats and the loud congressional support he’d received after the news stories started appearing. The universities ordered their grantees and fellows to shut their mouths, or else they would bring them back to do lab work and send other, more discreet scientists in their places. Funding was sacrosanct.
“Confidentiality agreements,” Sal said, tossing the packet on Cooper’s bed, before falling on top of it and landing face-first into her pillow. He turned his head to look at her. “It turns every scientific project and experiment on the ice into a classified operation. I’m considering adding an appendix to The Crud. I’ll call it A Scientist’s Guide to Political Interference.” He sighed. “And now there’s no point for you to read Skua Birds in Paradise, since no one will be here this winter to benefit from it if there’s a shutdown.”