“When you get to know the Anai a little better, you will find out that they have their own traditional medicine, and in many cases it is more effective than ours.”
“Yes, but hypothetically? Suppose one needs emergency care? Can they be flown to the hospital here?”
Lindholm averted his eyes. “That would be incompatible with the secrecy clause,” he said.
Scott nodded. At that moment, something fell into place, and a silent mutiny rose within him. A lot of what Lindholm said made sense, but this was something he chafed against. At the bottom line, we decide for them. We assume we know what is better for them. And we would deny a human being life-saving medical care, for the sake of secrecy policies and government decisions and, above all, considerations of land and resources that might, theoretically, be disputed if these people came into public view.
Lindolm seemed to be reading his mind. His blue eyes bore into Scott’s, calm and penetrating. “I know what you must be thinking. That this is inhuman, unfair. But I did not set the government policy on that matter, and neither can you. You and I have no authority — we are merely acting upon instructions. And ultimately, I do believe the current state of affairs is the best possible for the Anai. They are secure, happy and protected, and no one bothers them. You have seen it, and will be able to see it again. I count on your discretion, though. Don’t make your visits to the valley too long or too frequent. You can befriend them, but you can’t change their lives.”
Scott left Lindholm’s office deep in thought. He could still make it in time for lunch, but he was not hungry. Instead, he decided to make an Internet call to Brianna.
She seemed very bright and happy to hear from him. “I wondered when you’d call, honey, but I didn’t want to call myself and disturb you.”
“You wouldn’t, don’t worry. At worst, I won’t answer if I’m asleep or in the office. How are things going on at home?”
“Oh, good, really good. I’m thinking of remodeling the big bathroom — those old tub and sink look terribly old-fashioned, you know.”
“How much would that cost?” Scott asked, a little sharper than he intended.
“Don’t be such a spendthrift, Scott. The Averys did theirs a month ago, and it looks wonderful, and the price was very reasonable.”
Scott relented. Brianna was on her own now, and it made sense to let her have her own way with the house while he was gone. “You’d have to make do with the little bathroom while the workers are at it, though,” he pointed out.
“Don’t worry, it’s quicker than you think. The Averys had their done in three days. But why are we going on about bathrooms? You know, your sister called last night. Asked if I’d heard from you, and wondered if you might make time to call her in the near future.”
“Sure, I’ll call Laura,” Scott said, a little ashamed of his forgetfulness. “I got her last email, but hadn’t gotten around to answering it yet.”
“But how is it going for you, honey?”
“I’m fine. Settling in. A lot of routines to learn, you know. But the work is very… very interesting.”
“And is it really all about maintenance? Records, ledgers, supply orders and so on?”
Scott paused. He never had secrets from Brianna before and, as uninterested as she usually was in most things connected to science, he knew she would be fascinated by the Anai. He longed to tell her of the magical warm valley, the thrill of discovery, the beautiful and unique people he had met, but he could not. And the words of his last conversation with Lindholm played in his mind over and over. It is beyond your authority. You can’t change government policies.
“Mostly,” he finally said. “There is also some… research, but it’s classified. I can hardly discuss it online.”
Brianna’s expression was scrutinizing. “You know, Scott,” she said, “it almost seems as if you’re hiding something. This is very unlike you.”
And, try as he might to think of a satisfactory answer, he didn’t know what to say.
Chapter 7
A week and a half later, a ship came to bear Anders Lindholm away, to the shores of California, where he could walk with his grandchildren along the beach and sit on the front steps of his house by night, listening to the waves and enjoying a drink and a cigar in perfect peace. There was a look of quiet, heartfelt satisfaction, as well as deep weariness, on the old man’s face as he was boarding the ship, suitcase in hand. Nearly all the station personnel gathered at the docks, waving goodbye to Lindholm, and many an eye glistened with a tear. Most of the McMurdo workers could neither remember nor imagine the station without Anders Lindholm.
Scott felt a distinct sense of loss as the ship sailed away. Short as his acquaintance with Lindholm had been, he felt he would miss the mentorship of the old man, and he felt nowhere near ready to step into his shoes.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Jerry Gordon. “Well, big boss,” Gordon grinned, “getting cold feet yet?”
“That’s kind of unavoidable in this weather, don’t you think?”
“Are you kidding me? This is a damn fine day, and we’re going to have a fine evening, too. You can’t say no to folks without seeming snotty, mind. We’re going to the bar after dinner, to drink your good luck in your new job.”
Scott had no objections. He was growing fond of Jerry Gordon and of the other guys in his part of the hall in building 155, whom he often met around the vending machines and the laundromat. They were, for the most part, friendly, matter-of-fact, down-to-earth fellows who minded their own business. McMurdo was limited in the number of staff it could support, and time-wasters didn’t usually last beyond one season.
It was a pleasant evening. Zoe came as well, and so did her friend, whom Jerry dubbed ‘Miss Marshmallow’ out of the corner of his mouth, and they all had two or three beers apiece to drink to Scott’s success. The company dispersed around 9 PM, however, as it was a workday tomorrow, and many of the people had to be up at 5.
When Scott made his way to the office the next morning, there was a new plaque on the door. It read ‘Scott Buckley — General Overseer’, and in the top drawer of the desk, he found a surprise left by Anders Lindholm. It was an unopened bottle of Aquavit.
He spent the next days, figuratively speaking, in getting a grip on the reins. Scott answered a great deal of emails, made a great deal of phone calls, took hold of supply stocks, compared prices, and wrote out orders, most of them far more plentiful than Victor Nash suggested. Nash knew better than to object, however, though the word ‘budget’ passed his lips no less often than twice a day.
Though Scott never stopped thinking about the Anai and their secret valley, they were by necessity pushed to the back of his mind while he figured out the terms of his new position. Some weeks passed before he felt justified to so much as contemplate taking a day off to visit them again.
He knew he could order the helicopter again, but it seemed extravagant and wasteful, and after inquiring of the researchers who had access to the classified information about the Anai Valley, he discovered that a party of three people was actually heading to Camp AN-85 by snowmobile, and was possibly staying overnight. They were not intending to go to the valley itself, but merely to take some soil and plant samples from its edges. Scott immediately signed up to be one of the party, to which nobody had an objection. He gave instructions to Victor Nash, leaving him in charge. Nash looked as if he would have dearly loved to know where Scott was going and why, but he was not the type to ask questions if he could help it.