couldn’t let it rest.
When I reported them all hell broke loose, but the Academy closed ranks. They were top scientists. They were investigated over a matter of months, found guilty of misconduct and rapped on the knuckles. Then everything went back to normal. Except I was ostracised, and David left me, calling me obsessed and stubborn, and someone he couldn’t spend his life with. It certainly wasn’t the first thing we’d disagreed on, just the worst – and the last.
‘Laura?’ Kate was tapping me on the arm. ‘Come back to me. I know you’re thinking about what happened to you with those professors. But we can’t be frightened. Anyway, Georgia will know what to do.’
‘We’ll assemble the evidence,’ I said. ‘We’ll be meticulous. By the time we’ve finished, Connaught will have nowhere to turn.’ I wished I felt as confident as I sounded. Deep down I knew that whatever we discovered could be ignored if people wanted to keep it hidden. But ultimately I was reporting to the Antarctic Council, and there’d certainly be some countries keen to hear the news. That is if the Australians were willing to unleash a political storm.
‘Shall we see the movie buffs now?’ asked Kate.
I wasn’t in a hurry to revisit the cinema.
‘We can just poke our heads in,’ she said. ‘It’s important to see if the seals go crazy like the Adélies. And we need to see the other Adélies in the shed too. Can we do that first?’
I led the way to the building full of old equipment, where the penguins were hunkered down on their nests. Kate stood in the doorway and took everything in.
‘I’d rather not disturb them,’ she said finally. She took photos without a flash, the penguins looking green in the light through the filthy windows.
‘So, let’s see what’s playing,’ said Kate. I reluctantly took her to the cinema, but when we shone our torches inside, we found the seals had gone.
‘They must be at sea,’ I said.
Kate stepped inside, sending a shaft of light over the empty seats, the stage and screen at the front, the projector at the back – the projector that looked different.
‘That’s odd.’ I walked up to it. ‘I swear this roll of film is fatter.’
‘Spool. It’s a spool of film, isn’t it? Although, come to think of it, it’s a reel,’ said Kate.
‘It’s changed, whatever you want to call it. This one’s bigger. There’s more of it.’
Kate joined me, hooking a length of film out of the projector. ‘Back in the way past, my dad was a projectionist for a film club,’ she said. ‘He used to thread these babies up.’ She shone her torch through the celluloid and frowned.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
Kate flicked her torch nervously around the cinema and then unspooled more film, studying the frames, looping celluloid onto the ground.
‘Careful,’ I warned.
‘This film’s not from the fifties, it’s more recent. I’ve seen it. It’s Australian. A kind of horror film, or kind of not, with a child. Children. I reckon it was made in the late eighties because I was a kid when Dad showed it. It made an impact. Whoever’s doing this is shoving it in your face. They’re playing games, Laura.’
‘Maybe they thought we wouldn’t notice because of the seals.’
‘And where are the seals? Out to sea, or have they been driven away?’
I took a look at the film, but it didn’t mean anything to me, and then we walked around the empty cinema. The icy drifts lying about were too frozen for anyone to leave footprints.
‘It still smells like seal,’ said Kate, wrinkling her nose.
But my attention had been taken by something under a seat: a piece of popcorn. I photographed it. ‘Look at this. Do you think it’s fresh?’
Kate frowned. ‘One way to find out.’ She bent down and picked it up. And popped it in her mouth.
‘Eh, you’re destroying evidence!’
She swallowed. ‘That’s fresh, just as I thought. It’s not only seals coming to these movies.’ She made
When I reported them all hell broke loose, but the Academy closed ranks. They were top scientists. They were investigated over a matter of months, found guilty of misconduct and rapped on the knuckles. Then everything went back to normal. Except I was ostracised, and David left me, calling me obsessed and stubborn, and someone he couldn’t spend his life with. It certainly wasn’t the first thing we’d disagreed on, just the worst – and the last.
‘Laura?’ Kate was tapping me on the arm. ‘Come back to me. I know you’re thinking about what happened to you with those professors. But we can’t be frightened. Anyway, Georgia will know what to do.’
‘We’ll assemble the evidence,’ I said. ‘We’ll be meticulous. By the time we’ve finished, Connaught will have nowhere to turn.’ I wished I felt as confident as I sounded. Deep down I knew that whatever we discovered could be ignored if people wanted to keep it hidden. But ultimately I was reporting to the Antarctic Council, and there’d certainly be some countries keen to hear the news. That is if the Australians were willing to unleash a political storm.
‘Shall we see the movie buffs now?’ asked Kate.
I wasn’t in a hurry to revisit the cinema.
‘We can just poke our heads in,’ she said. ‘It’s important to see if the seals go crazy like the Adélies. And we need to see the other Adélies in the shed too. Can we do that first?’
I led the way to the building full of old equipment, where the penguins were hunkered down on their nests. Kate stood in the doorway and took everything in.
‘I’d rather not disturb them,’ she said finally. She took photos without a flash, the penguins looking green in the light through the filthy windows.
‘So, let’s see what’s playing,’ said Kate. I reluctantly took her to the cinema, but when we shone our torches inside, we found the seals had gone.
‘They must be at sea,’ I said.
Kate stepped inside, sending a shaft of light over the empty seats, the stage and screen at the front, the projector at the back – the projector that looked different.
‘That’s odd.’ I walked up to it. ‘I swear this roll of film is fatter.’
‘Spool. It’s a spool of film, isn’t it? Although, come to think of it, it’s a reel,’ said Kate.
‘It’s changed, whatever you want to call it. This one’s bigger. There’s more of it.’
Kate joined me, hooking a length of film out of the projector. ‘Back in the way past, my dad was a projectionist for a film club,’ she said. ‘He used to thread these babies up.’ She shone her torch through the celluloid and frowned.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
Kate flicked her torch nervously around the cinema and then unspooled more film, studying the frames, looping celluloid onto the ground.
‘Careful,’ I warned.
‘This film’s not from the fifties, it’s more recent. I’ve seen it. It’s Australian. A kind of horror film, or kind of not, with a child. Children. I reckon it was made in the late eighties because I was a kid when Dad showed it. It made an impact. Whoever’s doing this is shoving it in your face. They’re playing games, Laura.’
‘Maybe they thought we wouldn’t notice because of the seals.’
‘And where are the seals? Out to sea, or have they been driven away?’
I took a look at the film, but it didn’t mean anything to me, and then we walked around the empty cinema. The icy drifts lying about were too frozen for anyone to leave footprints.
‘It still smells like seal,’ said Kate, wrinkling her nose.
But my attention had been taken by something under a seat: a piece of popcorn. I photographed it. ‘Look at this. Do you think it’s fresh?’
Kate frowned. ‘One way to find out.’ She bent down and picked it up. And popped it in her mouth.
‘Eh, you’re destroying evidence!’
She swallowed. ‘That’s fresh, just as I thought. It’s not only seals coming to these movies.’ She made
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