Francis entered his bedroom in much better condition than the previous night. At worst, he just simply felt tired.
His small but private room was an anomaly. There was only one other single and that was Sokolov’s room. He appreciated the privacy. Eventually he planned to put some personal touches to the decorum, but for now he was exhausted and only wanted to sleep. It came quickly, which was itself a major blessing, but before morning, in the deeper reaches of his subconscious, he had a vivid and terrifying dream. After it played out, it faded into the background behind his retrievable memories.
He immediately began to snore.
His work the following day was much anticipated. Hamlin could hardly wait to prepare more slides and start the search for prehistoric, albeit microscopic, life. It didn’t take long for his discoveries to start piling up.
Sokolov stopped by to check on his progress about two hours after he started. “Anything to report, Doctor? Are you still progressing successfully?”
He smiled at Sokolov despite his reservations about the man. “Oh yes. This time I’ve found some viruses. They look unfamiliar, but that’s not really my specialty so I’ll reserve final judgment. But it’s all good. So far, if you forced me to summarize, I would say the frequency of life is definitely less than, say, in the open ocean, but it’s there nonetheless. I’m still holding out hope for something like an amoeba or paramecium. I’ve got a long way to go to work through this sample.”
“I am no expert, Doctor. Should we all be using breathing apparatus? We would have no natural immunity to something that is seeing the light of day for the first time in many millennia.”
Francis shook his head. “Unlikely. Water-borne viruses would probably not be at home with us. Nor could they jump through the air to get to us. I’m probably the only one really at risk and I’m being careful. I suppose the boring crew should take some precautions if there’s any chance of being splashed. I wouldn’t want them to stop working, though.”
“The water freezes long before reaching the surface, so that shouldn’t be of any concern. We are going to make a decision later today regarding boring through the last few meters and probing into the actual lake itself. We will be supplying you with more interesting samples today at any rate. Perhaps that will contribute to your success.”
“Awesome. Bring it on. You know, if you loosened up your no drinking in the lab policy, I might be inclined to work longer hours.”
“Of course you are joking, Doctor. I appreciate your sense of humor. Keep working on that sample—I’ll have more for you soon.”
Sokolov made his way back outside.
“So you really found some viruses in the sample?” Konstantine had been keeping tabs on his progress, but Francis apparently hadn’t uttered the word virus until Sokolov came in. “Should we be wearing masks for protection?”
“Like I just said—no, that’s not necessary. The kind of virus found in this environment wouldn’t be transmittable to humans. You’re safe.”
Konstantine digested his response. “How can you make that conclusion if this virus hasn’t been seen before?”
It was a fair question. “Its environment tells us. It likes to live in water, under pressure, in complete darkness, and in extremely cold temperatures. Our bodies are warm, no increased environmental pressure, and exposed to light frequently. And how would it get transmitted? If we don’t consume it in some manner, it couldn’t infect us anyway.”
“Forgive me, but I’m a scientist too. Couldn’t it be absorbed through contact with the skin? Does it become airborne when the water evaporates? I mean, we really don’t know, do we?”
“How could a virus survive in that environment for eons if it was primarily in need of a warm-bodied host? Surely that would have been evolved out of the species even if it ever did exist.”
“Your argument is persuasive. I feel safer.”
“Of course, alcohol is a wonderful disinfectant if you really want to stack the deck in your favor.” Hamlin pulled out a small metal flask from his top desk drawer.
“Staying healthy should be a top priority down here,” Konstantine agreed.
Francis took a swig and winced. “What happens if you do get sick? Do you have any medical facilities at all? Or could you get evacuated by plane or snowmobiled to the nearest station? Or do you just get thrown into the nearest snow bank until spring?”
Konstantine seemed strangely amused by Hamlin’s apparent fear of medical emergencies. “We have Kuvayev, an actual medical doctor, on staff here. We also have some basic diagnostic equipment and a good supply of commonly needed medications. You shouldn’t worry. But don’t count on being evacuated. We’re all committed for the winter now. Nothing can fly in this cold. Jet fuel turns to jelly in the lines. You just barely made it.”
“Wait a minute. What if you cut your hand off or develop pneumonia?”
“That changes nothing. You cannot leave now, regardless of your physical condition.”
Francis thought it through for a minute. “What kind of communication do we have here?”
“You mean with the outside world? Not much. No phones, no internet. We have a shortwave radio, but as a rule only Sokolov uses it.”
Francis wasn’t sure if he felt liberated or horrified. He decided to turn his focus back to his work.
When the evening meal had been consumed, Francis was informed that a movie would be viewed in the common area. He, as newest member of the team, would have the privilege of selecting what would be shown. When he got to the room, he was directed to a cardboard box with a blend of Russian DVDs in it. He didn’t recognize any titles and wasn’t encouraged by the amateurish illustrations on the cases. He looked at the television itself and was surprised and encouraged to see that it was a Sony.
“Hold on for a second.” He walked over to the television and then spun it around. “Well, look at this. You’ve got a port here for a memory stick. Just wait a minute—I’ll be right back.”
He returned from his room with a small plastic object in his hand. “Prepare to be amazed, my Russian friends.” He inserted the stick and picked up the remote.
“You brought movies on that key?” The burley bearded man was Doctor Kuvayev. He was the surgeon/MD. “Are these American movies?”
Francis couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “You bet your ass.” He noticed Sokolov watching him intently. “Umm, is this okay? Do you mind?”
Sokolov waved his hand dismissively. “Proceed, Doctor. Have your fun. This should be less damaging to your productivity tomorrow than a night of drinking vodka.”
Kuvayev approached with a look of fascination on his face. “You have American action movies perhaps?”
Another voice called out, “What about something scary—like a werewolf?”
His tall friend with the provocative voice said, “Romance, maybe? Something to make me cry?”
The menu appeared on the screen. He had a pretty good selection. “Sorry, no romance on here. I do have action and I do have scary. What’s your preference?”
“You choose,” someone immediately suggested. Francis paused for a moment.
“You can’t beat Bruce Willis.” He selected Live Free or Die Hard for its humor and action, along with some decent special effects.
He had never seen an audience sit so quietly or watch so intensely. They laughed at the jokes, gasped at the explosions, and nodded in agreement with the hero’s interpretation of the situation he found himself in. At the end of it all, they gave the movie a standing ovation.
“That was awesome!” Konstantine blurted. ‘Do you have more?”
“Oh yes. If we show some restraint and watch one weekly, I can get us through the entire winter without any repeats.”