Snowmobiling to AN-85 took considerably more time than flying by helicopter, and had Scott been making his way alone, he would have felt insecure and vulnerable, crawling like an insect upon the great frozen terrain of rock, ice and snow. The team of scientists whom he had joined, however, were an experienced lot, and made their way to camp with brisk efficiency. Two men remained in charge of the overnight camp, while Scott in the company of Sue Ellis, head of the team, descended the trail leading towards the Anai Valley.
“I understand you mean to go within?” Sue said, not sounding very approving.
“Why, yes. I have the clearance, you know.”
“I know you have. But the valley is no tourist site, Mr. Buckley. All our efforts so far have been to leave the Anai untouched, a perfect specimen of a primitive and harmonious culture.”
Once again, Scott felt the undercurrent of anger within him stir. Specimen?
“I have my instructions, Ms. Ellis.”
“Right. Well, your curiosity is understandable, and if you are going in anyway, I thought you might help us with this,” she unzipped one of her pockets and took out two tiny, identical electronic devices.
“What’s that?”
“Hidden cameras with direct transmission to the McMurdo Science Center. Solar-powered and very energy-efficient. You could tuck one in, say, between the crevices of an outer stone wall, and another in some little nook within their dwellings, and I’m sure no one would notice. Of course, there’s little enough light inside, and it might not be enough even for this camera, and then when the dark season comes there would be no point in keeping the cameras on, but…”
“Ms. Ellis,” Scott said with mounting irritation, “have you ever heard of the word privacy?”
She blinked. “It wouldn’t hurt anyone, and would give us a splendid opportunity to observe the Anai just as they lead their daily lives, without making any alterations because of visitors. I don’t see what there is to object to, Mr. Buckley.”
“How would you feel if someone installed a hidden camera in your room?”
“That is neither here nor there. The Anai don’t know what a camera is, even if they happen to notice it.”
“Of course not. Because, according to our government regulations, they are not allowed access to such information, isn’t that so? But you and I, blessed as we are with the knowledge of advanced technology, must know that it is immoral and unacceptable to spy on individuals who pose no threat to society.”
Sue Ellis gave an exasperated sigh. “This isn’t about threats, but about science. And yes, we do have to act with sensitivity, as the Anai are human. We can’t very well implant transmission chips under their skin.”
Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Though you would love to, wouldn’t you? To observe their movements within their natural habitat? I confess, I fail to see why the attitude towards the Anai is so condescending. They didn’t strike me by any means as human beings of inferior intelligence.”
Sue drew herself up to her full height. “I hope you aren’t accusing me of racism or bigotry, Mr. Buckley. One of my grandmothers was African-American, another from Hawaii. That’s on my mother’s side. My father was half Indian, half Irish. And to top it all off, I am a woman. I have had to overcome many prejudices, and I hope that my professional attitude reflects that.”
“I’m afraid,” Scott said, “that both you and I are merely cogs in a great machine that makes decisions we have no authority to overrule. But when I have a choice, however little, between the ethical and unethical, my course is straight. I will not install hidden cameras in innocent people’s houses, no matter who they are or where they live. And, with whatever authority I do have as the overseer of McMurdo, I will protect the rights and privacy of the Anai.”
With an exasperated sigh, Sue put the cameras back in her pocket. “I know that Lindholm had taken you to see the Anai before he left,” she said. “It seems he has done a fine job on you. You speak just like him.”
“You flatter me,” Scott smiled. There was no more to be said. Sue proceeded to collect some soil samples, while Scott descended into the valley, toward the rich mosses and swaying grasses, and the cozy little houses of stone.
It did not take long for the Anai to notice him, but the curiosity he received this time was just enough to make him self-conscious. People looked and waved at him, and then got back to their usual work. Several men were busy prying boulders out of the ground and hauling them to a cleared site where the foundations of a new house were being laid. A group of riotous little boys were having a competition with their little throw-spears, while nearby, a few girls with baskets were collecting long grass, no doubt to be dried and woven into more baskets, mats and other household items. Upon seeing Scott, they put their heads together, whispered and giggled.
Ri Omrek was near the house he shared with his sister and nephew. He was working at the vegetable patch, where neat rows of greens were poking their heads out of the ground. Once in a while, he tossed scraps of greens to the curious fat domestic fowl across the fence of their run. Upon seeing the visitor, the young man straightened up and smiled.
“Scott!” he said. “You come. Good to see. Sister and I, we speak, wonder when you come again.”
Scott approached, and the two men grasped arms. “Good to see you too, Ri Omrek.”
“Come inside. Sister is home. Then later, maybe go to river, yes?”
As they were about to enter the house, something collided with Ri Omrek from behind. It was his nephew, laughing, muddy and exuberant. There was mud all over his hands, a smudge on his cheek and nose, and even in his bright golden hair. Laughing, Ri Omrek picked up the little boy and issued a stream of words in the tongue of the Anai.
“Just washed this morning,” he told Scott. “Tahan will be angry.”
The entrance flap was rolled up, and the window open as well, and plenty of light streamed into the little dwelling. Ki Tahan sat at a well-lit spot, her hands deftly at work at a beautifully made ivory frame, which, as Scott eagerly noticed, was evidently meant for weaving.
“Scott, welcome,” she rose from her seat and looked at him with obvious surprise and pleasure which, though he wouldn’t have admitted it, made him feel all warm inside. Then her eyes fell upon her son, and she took him out of her brother’s hands, smiling and scolding at once. The little boy attempted to look properly ashamed, but it was no good — the corners of his mouth kept turning up, and it was evident he was about to burst into giggles. Ri Omrek put a few quick words in, and she nodded.
“Omrek suggests, we go to river,” she explained to Scott. “I say, good thinking — must wash up this child. I will be ready soon.”
She sat down to her weaving again, and set to putting things in order and tucking in some loose threads. Irresistibly attracted, Scott approached and gently touched the thread and the half-finished fabric. It was delicate, finely made, and pleasant to the touch. “How do you make this?” he asked.
Ki Tahan smiled. “From grass,” she said. “We dry it, wash, press… then make… how Anders say?” she looked at her brother, who shrugged.
“Fiber?” Scott suggested.
“Yes, fiber. Then make this,” she pointed at her weaving. “Then clothes. Special clothes. Lots of work — clothes are for… not wear every day,” she struggled to find the right word.
“Special occasions? Celebrations?” Scott put in again, and was rewarded with a grateful smile.