He cleared his throat. The room was very quiet. “Life in Antarctica, however, has always had ancillary benefits in medicine, psychology, and sociology. How are bodies and minds changed by three or four or nine months on the ice? They were never distinct or primary fields of study, but it’s impossible to ignore how the isolation and extreme conditions of Antarctica affect the most interesting subject of all: us.”
Hanratty glanced around the room. Taylor watched Deb and Ayres, unsure how they were going to react and ready for anything. Keene, of course, had already figured it out for himself. The faces of the deputy manager and the base’s doctor were the blank, noncommittal expressions of those experienced in receiving bad news and saving their assessment and recriminations until later.
“When TransAnt took over operations here,” Hanratty continued, “they saw an opportunity to remedy that lack of study. Why waste what was already happening, they argued. The science could continue as it always had—no loss there. But science, with just a few tweaks, could double its money by taking advantage of a ready-made lab, specially built to test theories in psychology and sociology.”
“We’re part of someone’s goddamned clinical trial?” Ayres asked in disbelief, his jaw muscles bunched and released.
“You specifically? No.” Hanratty’s voice was even. Keene stirred, but said nothing. “Others on the base? Yes.”
“You’re . . . TransAnt’s really experimenting on personnel?” Deb asked. When Hanratty nodded, she sat back, unbelieving. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe that you’d take part in it.”
“Their reasons make sense once you hear the entire premise. I believe the end result is worth the methods they use.”
Ayres, shaking his head, asked, “What’s the point? What are they looking for? What do they hope to learn?”
Hanratty shifted his eyes. “Keene?”
“Salutogenesis.” When his statement was returned with blank stares, the psychologist smiled and repeated, “Salutogenesis. The theory that some of us have it in our DNA to bring out a dormant . . . superman, for lack of a better term, when we are pushed to our physical or emotional limits. The theory was forwarded after studies of certain Holocaust survivors showed that a surprising number of them had not only made it through the worst mental and spiritual trial imaginable, they’d achieved a level of emotional and psychological growth that, frankly, shouldn’t have occurred.”
Deb frowned. “We’re part of a study on ‘the tough get tougher’?”
“No. It’s not a platitude. It’s the belief that salutogenesis is a core human trait that actually manifests and grows only under extreme physical and emotional duress. It’s not just survival in the midst of a crisis, it’s the ability to transform under it, to bloom and become something better than you were before the crisis took place.”
“What a load of horseshit,” Ayres said. “I could name a hundred marines at Camp Lejeune who fit that description. TransAnt doesn’t need to set up a base in Antarctica for that.”
“TransAnt doesn’t have access to the marines at Camp Lejeune. And, frankly, marines expect to be put under duress. It’s not much of a study when all of your subjects can predict what’s coming or might be faking their reactions in order to conform to a preconceived notion of what it means to be a marine. Having said that, however, I’d be amazed if the government hasn’t run their own salutogenic tests that would make a Marine Corps boot camp look like a walk in the park.”
“But what’s the point?” Deb pressed. “Why bother?”
Keene shrugged. “What’s it worth to a government to groom soldiers who excel under the harshest combat conditions? What’s it worth to an intelligence agency or a space program to know—and really know, not guess—they have operatives or astronauts who never falter? What value would society put on a clutch athlete or a politician or a hostage negotiator who became better on the job, not in spite of the worst possible events unfolding around them, but because of them?”
The room was quiet as they digested what Keene had said.
“It all sounds wonderful,” Ayres said, breaking the silence. “What are the chances the theory is real?”
Keene considered before answering. “It’s an attractive, though not fully credited, concept, I’m afraid. Antonovsky, who pioneered the idea, certainly scratched a popular itch when he proposed it. Who wouldn’t like to think she’s the heroine of her own story and has it in her to win the day, if only the circumstances were right? But in my experience, we’re all better off if we disabuse ourselves of the idea and just work with what we’ve got. On the other hand, I might believe that because I know I don’t have what it takes.”