"No, people are abandoning hope. Did you see the board there?"
"Somebody covered it."
"No more games. No more matches with the Kiwis. Because no more radio, because the fixing is not going so well. So Dana and Carl got drunk last night and taped their research proposals to the board and threw the darts at them. They have given up because we are alone down here and we are forgotten."
"We aren't forgotten! I'm sure the rest of the world is wondering what happened to us. Trying to contact us. We'll get Comms up and running."
"No, we are forgotten. We are not people to them, I think. Just some name. Some file. Some record. We are trapped down here and so now I am done with my plants."
Name. File. Record. And with that Abby suddenly had an idea what to do. How to follow up Lewis's discovery. So now she was in the office Norse had taken over from the dead Cameron, trying to mask her own nervousness in approaching the enigmatic psychologist, trying to act casual in seeking something that could save them all.
Norse looked at her warily. "I hope you're not here about Lewis. I know you don't believe he's guilty but keeping him in the sauna is the only thing keeping him safe."
"No, it's not about Jed," she said. "I know you have no choice. I'm not sure myself that he is who he says he is." She watched Norse closely when she said this but he showed no reaction. If the man was a liar, he composed his emotions like a schedule. "My problem's more mundane," she went on. "I've got a toothache."
Norse frowned. Dental problems could become a real hazard in the isolation of the Pole. Everyone had thorough exams before coming down because bad teeth could produce either agony or, in summer, an expensive evacuation. "Have you talked to Nancy?"
"Yes, and she suspects it might be a problem with a loose crown. She needs to see my X rays. Apparently they're in the office here."
"I thought she had her own set."
"The one she has is fogged. Maybe it went through an airport detector."
"And there's another here?"
"Yes." Nancy knew that Cameron's old office had a storage closet that included a complete set of dental X rays for every winter-over at Amundsen-Scott base. They were required of all American personnel in Antarctica. One reason was to screen for problems that could be crippling in a remote camp. Another, more morbid rationale was to have on file a means- if aircraft crashed and bodies were burnt- of identifying the dead. For safe redundancy, two sets came down, one sent by medical authorities and the second hand-carried by the winter-over.
"I don't even know where they are," he confessed. "Haven't had time to poke around."
"Nancy said Rod kept them in boxes in the closet."
He glanced over his shoulder at a storage closet behind him. "You want me to find them?"
"I'll get them."
He looked at her speculatively. Here was an opportunity to repair a relationship, perhaps. She'd been avoiding him up to now. "Okay."
The woman nodded her thanks.
"We've been through some rough times, Abby," he tried. "It's important we all come together in a situation like this."
"I know." She looked a little impatient. She'd said her tooth was hurting but he couldn't help but plunge ahead. Abby, his failure with her, represented a rare defeat. It gnawed at him.
"I realize you've been upset about Lewis but I don't know what else I can do for him until we get Comms up and running and some of this sorted out. I… I know I came on a little strong with you at the party. I wonder if we could at least be good friends."
She swallowed. "We are friends, Bob. Just not that kind of friend."
He got up from his desk and moved around to her. "The group worries me, frankly. It's weaker than I was expecting. I'm trying to hold people together but there's a real chance someone's going to get in a fight or try to run away or get emotional and do something dangerous. The beakers are the worst because they have the least to do, now that the grid is down. If there's trouble I'd like to be able to count on you."
"Of course you can."
He took her right hand in both of his, enclosing it. The grip was not tight but the power there was unmistakable. It emanated from him like a force. "If anything bad happens I'd like you to stay by me. I'm thinking of assigning pairs, a kind of buddy system, and I'd like to partner with you. Boy-girl, mostly- I think each gender has its strengths and could help look after the other. And I know it's a little sexist, but I'd like to think I could help protect you in a crisis. Do you understand what I mean?"
She smiled more bravely than she felt, actually confused by what he meant. What crisis? "I guess so," she evaded. She needed to get to that box. "I would like to know you better, Bob. That's one reason I came down for the winter, to get close to people. With Jed locked away I'm learning how important that might be."
He was looking at her with an intensity she found unnerving. She wished he'd sit back down. "Are you?"
Abby pulled out of his grip. "But not right now, not with a toothache. Let me get Nancy to look at this and decide what we can do. After I get fixed maybe we can talk. Maybe you can tell me more about yourself. I'm very curious. You're kind of mysterious, you know."
She got a glimpse of his annoyance at her elusiveness and then his face masked over. "Everyone's mysterious. Even to themselves."
"Well, my mystery is my own dental work. I'm going to dig out that file."
He shrugged, stepping away. "Of course. I hope Nancy can help. Get you a painkiller or something." Obviously dissatisfied, he sat down and went back to writing. It looked personal, like some kind of diary.
Abby went around the desk and into the storage closet, finding the cardboard box that Nancy had described. Lifting it down, she began rifling through it, praying he wouldn't come help. She could feel him glance over occasionally to watch her. "I'm surprised you can think to write after all that's happened," she called. "Even concentrate. What is it?"
There was a long silence. Then a shuffling of paper. "A narrative of an important time," he finally said. "Explaining things to myself."
"That's what writing does, doesn't it?"
"That and explaining things to the world."
She found what she was looking for, slipped it into her own file folder, and put the box back. "It's too bad Clyde was burnt in the explosion," she commented as she went back past his desk, clutching the X rays. "The repair work would go a lot faster with his expertise."
"Awful," Norse said. He straightened a little. "Yet disaster can bring out the best in people as well. It's a kind of test, I think. Being cut off from communication from the outside world has forced us to rely a little bit more on ourselves. Like you and me. It's terrible to say so, but the trauma has given a real edge to my research."
She smiled. "Hoping for the worst?" She tried to keep it light, without any edge to it. "Shrink nirvana?"
"Sounds awful, doesn't it?" He shook his head at himself. "I find myself in an awkward position between participant and observer. Victim and beneficiary."
"Our leader, now."
"No, no. Camp counselor, maybe."
"Our director."
His look was sardonic. "No matter how well you plan things, everything comes out differently. You make things up as you go along."
"And how do you know where you're trying to go, Bob?" She seemed genuinely interested.
"I'm a psychologist. Inside instead of outside. Soul instead of stars. At some fundamental level I'm not sure they're all that different. The goal of any life is to justify yourself to yourself. Or at least explain yourself."
"That sounds like what a shrink would say."
"That's what an honest man would say."
She left and he watched her go with a concealed hunger: her slim back, the nape of her neck, the curve of her hip, that coy primness he wanted to possess and violate. Her presence was tormenting him like a hunger, inflating his desire. The more she put him off, the more he wanted her.