But, this year, it was a little more exciting.
Hayes stepped out of the control booth and stood there in the main room of the drilling tower which was cavernous and loud. The massive EHWD (Enhanced Hot-Water Drill) was channeling deep into the ice beneath the tower, making the floor vibrate. Compressors were thrumming and pumps hissing, hoses snaking every which way. The drill, he knew, pumped jets of ultra-hot water from a heating plant down a hose at high pressure to the drill head far below. The melted water was sucked up from the borehole, reheated up in the tower, and pumped back down in a cyclical process.
Hayes walked around, staying out of the way of the three technicians who were actually running the drill, monitoring its progress and keeping an eye on all that expensive machinery. The cryobot itself was over near the wall, looking like a missile suspended from an immense iron tripod and connected to huge spools of cable. The probe itself was sealed in a sterile vinyl bag that it would melt through once it reached its destination nearly a mile below.
Hayes was just staring at it, that feeling in his guts again like somebody had dug a pit in his belly. He couldn’t get beyond it now. It wasn’t a momentary thing he could laugh off, accost himself for being silly. No, this feeling was deep and ancient and intense. Staring up at the suspended cryobot he figured he was feeling roughly what Rabi, Oppenheimer, and the boys must have been feeling when they tested the atomic bomb for the first time: that the door had been thrown open and there was no going back.
The noise of the machinery clattering in his ears, Hayes slipped away, making for the far side of the drill room and into the core sampling room. Gundry had turned it into an office of sorts.
He was going through reams of computer printouts, mostly graphs. “Something on your mind, Jimmy?”
Hayes chewed his lip. “You were there when Gates made his announcement, right?”
“Sure. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
Hayes took a deep breath, considered his words carefully. “What do you think of the mummies? That prehistoric city? I mean, not scientifically, but as a person, a human being, what do you think of them?”
Gundry was a small, almost bird-like man who moved with quick, jerky motions. His face was weathered and craggy like all those who spent too much time in the harshest climate on earth. He looked, if anything, like some hard-rock miner who’d lived a hard, demanding life and probably he had. The only thing that off-set this was his full head of almost luxurious silver hair. But for all his nervous energy, he now relaxed, intertwined his fingers behind his head and leaned back. “Well, I’ll tell you, Jimmy. I’ll tell you what I think,” he said in his smooth Southern drawl. “I grew up in the Bible Belt and though religion and I have had a parting of the ways, I think this could be big trouble for the faith. What Bob Gates has found down here just might throw organized religion on its ass. When Gates said that he has something there that might make us re-think who and what we are, I wouldn’t take that lightly. I know the man. He doesn’t say squat until he’s got something and, son, I’m thinking he’s got something here that’s going to shake our culture to its roots.”
“Do you think… do you think those are aliens he has there?”
Gundry winced, then shrugged. “All I’m going to say is that it’s probably a pretty good possibility.”
“I know you boys have been busy over here,” Hayes said. “But I imagine you’ve heard what’s going on.”
“I have.”
“And as an educated man, what do you make of it? All those dreams everyone’s having, all of ’em pretty much along the same line.”
“As an educated man and a guy who’s spent half his lifetime at the Pole, I’d say isolation can lead to paranoia and paranoia can lead to all manner of terrible things. Particularly when you’ve got those Old Ones as inspiration.” Gundry paused, shrugged again. “That’s what I’d say as an educated man.”
Hayes licked his windburned lips. “And as just a man?”
Gundry shifted uncomfortably. “I’d say I don’t particularly care for what those things are going to tell us about ourselves and the history of our little world. I’d say they seem to have a bad influence on our kind in general. And, like you, I’m hoping that influence is not truly still active.”
“Do you think we’re in trouble here, Doc?”
“No, at least, I hope not. But as to our culture? Our society? Yeah, I’d say that’s in jeopardy… because after what Gates has found, well, let’s face it, Jimmy, you just can’t go home again. You can’t go back to the way things were.”
Gundry was saying a lot of things without actually saying them. Hayes had spent a lot of time around scientists and knew they got very good at that. Had to, if they wanted to survive in the fiercely competitive, cutthroat world of government grants and college departmental politics. Scientists like Gundry did not go out on a limb until it had been shored-up by others. At least, not publicly.
Hayes turned to leave, then stopped. “What about that magnetic energy down in the lake? What do you make of that?”
But Gundry would only shrug, blinking his eyes in rapid succession. “What do you make of it, Jimmy?”
Hayes looked at him for a moment. “I’m no scientist, Doc, but I’m not stupid either. I trust my instincts on things like this.”
“And what do your instincts tell you?”
“Same thing they’re telling you, Dr. Gundry, that whatever’s down there kicking up its heels… it sure as fuck isn’t by accident.”
19
“Well, you missed all the excitement,” Sharkey said to Hayes that afternoon in the community room as he sat down with his tray of food.
Hayes felt something wither in him. “God, do I even want to hear this?”
“I think you will. LaHune has put us back online… Internet, satellite, the works. He made the announcement about an hour ago and you could almost hear the sigh of relief around here.”
Hayes wasn’t really surprised.
LaHune had to pacify the collective beast before it took a bite out of him. Looking around the community room which was barely half full, Hayes could almost feel that the tensions of the past week had subsided somewhat. Like a chiropractor with a good set of hands had worked out the kinks and bunched muscles of the station.
“No shit?” he said. “You telling me our fine and randy Mr. LaHune isn’t worrying about word of our mummies leaking out? That city?”
Sharkey took a bite of stew, chewed it carefully. “Oh, he covered that base. He directed it at our wallets. Told us it’s okay to mention that fossils and artifacts had been found, just not to be perpetuating any of the wild rumors circulating through camp. Said that, if crazy stories like that got out, those who sent them would not be invited back by the NSF… meaning they can kiss Antarctica good-bye, along with those juicy contracts and exclusive grants.”
Though he didn’t care for LaHune anymore than he cared for a woodtick fastened to his left nut, Hayes had to agree that it was the right way to handle things. People didn’t pay much attention to threats until you put their livelihood and careers on the chopping block. If LaHune had any sense, he would have done it in the first place.
“Honestly though, Jimmy, I don’t think people here are going to talk about any of that. They’re barely talking about it amongst themselves. It seems that most of them have accepted my post on Meiner as an embolism.”
Hayes studied his food, set his fork down. “Yeah, but do you accept it?”
Sharkey looked indifferent. “Down here, with the very limited pathological facilities, it’ll have to do. I examined Meiner’s brain pretty thoroughly. It was a massive hemorrhage, all right… blood vessels popped like ripe grapes just about everywhere. So I accept that. As to cause… well, that’s a different bag of chips, isn’t it?”