up. After lunch, the bulk of the local roustabouts-their initial construction work completed-were ferried south to Anchorage in two cargo helicopters, not to return until the shooting was complete. Only Creel, the burly crew foreman who looked like he consumed steel bolts for breakfast, remained on the base. Around three in the afternoon, Ashleigh Davis emerged from her über-trailer, surveyed the surrounding works with distaste, and then set off for the base-accompanied by her personal assistant in the trench coat-apparently to be briefed by Conti.
After dinner, Marshall returned to the lab where he’d spent the day hard at work, seeing no one. With the bulk of the documentary staff out of doors preparing for the following day’s broadcast, the base had been relatively quiet and he’d had few distractions. Now he was bent over an examination table, so engrossed in his work that he didn’t hear the lab door open softly. He didn’t realize he had company, in fact, until a feminine voice over his shoulder began to intone:
“And soft they danced from the Polar sky and swept in primrose haze;
And swift they pranced with their silver feet, and pierced with a blinding blaze.
They danced a cotillion in the sky; they were rose and silver shod;
It was not good for the eyes of man-’twas a sight for the eyes of God.”
He straightened and turned around. Kari Ekberg was standing there, leaning against a table, dressed in jeans and a white turtleneck. A smile played at the corners of her mouth.
He quoted in return:
“They writhed like a brood of angry snakes, hissing and sulphur pale;
Then swift they changed to a dragon vast, lashing a cloven tail.”
“So,” he said. “They’re out again?”
“And how.”
“You know, ever since I got here and first saw those lights, I’ve been waiting for somebody to quote Robert Service. Didn’t think it would be you.”
“I’ve loved his stuff ever since my older brother scared me half to death, reading ‘The Cremation of Sam McGee’ aloud in a pup tent by the glow of a flashlight.”
“Guess my story’s pretty much the same.” He glanced at his watch. “My God. Ten o’clock.” He stretched, glanced back up at her. “I’d have thought you’d be rushing around with all sorts of last-minute details.”
She shook her head. “I’m the field producer, remember? I do the advance work, make sure everybody knows their dance steps. Once the talent hits the ground I pretty much take a backseat and watch it unfold.”
The talent,
Marshall thought, recalling the non-encounter he’d witnessed between Ekberg and Ashleigh Davis that morning.
“And you,” she said. “I haven’t seen you all day. What grand discoveries have you made?”
“We paleoecologists don’t go in for grand discoveries. We just try to answer questions, fill in the dark corners.”
“Then why work so late? It’s not like all this is going away.” And she waved a hand roughly in the direction of the glacier.
“Actually, it’s going away a lot faster than you might think.” He turned to the table, picked up a small yellow flower. “I found this just outside the perimeter wall this morning, poking up out of the snow. Ten years ago, the northerly range of this flower was a hundred miles south. That’s how much global warming has changed things in just a decade.”
“But I thought global warming helped your work.”
“Glacial melt helps me collect more samples, more quickly. I can collect everything from the face of a melting glacier-pollen, insects, pine-tree seeds, even atmospheric bubbles for sampling the amount of CO 2 in ancient air. It beats the hell out of drilling ice cores. But that doesn’t mean I’m enthusiastic about global warming. Scientists are supposed to be objective.”
She looked at him, wry smile deepening. “And is that what you are? Objective?”
He hesitated. Then he sighed. “If you want to know the truth…no. Global warming scares the hell out of me.
After dinner, Marshall returned to the lab where he’d spent the day hard at work, seeing no one. With the bulk of the documentary staff out of doors preparing for the following day’s broadcast, the base had been relatively quiet and he’d had few distractions. Now he was bent over an examination table, so engrossed in his work that he didn’t hear the lab door open softly. He didn’t realize he had company, in fact, until a feminine voice over his shoulder began to intone:
“And soft they danced from the Polar sky and swept in primrose haze;
And swift they pranced with their silver feet, and pierced with a blinding blaze.
They danced a cotillion in the sky; they were rose and silver shod;
It was not good for the eyes of man-’twas a sight for the eyes of God.”
He straightened and turned around. Kari Ekberg was standing there, leaning against a table, dressed in jeans and a white turtleneck. A smile played at the corners of her mouth.
He quoted in return:
“They writhed like a brood of angry snakes, hissing and sulphur pale;
Then swift they changed to a dragon vast, lashing a cloven tail.”
“So,” he said. “They’re out again?”
“And how.”
“You know, ever since I got here and first saw those lights, I’ve been waiting for somebody to quote Robert Service. Didn’t think it would be you.”
“I’ve loved his stuff ever since my older brother scared me half to death, reading ‘The Cremation of Sam McGee’ aloud in a pup tent by the glow of a flashlight.”
“Guess my story’s pretty much the same.” He glanced at his watch. “My God. Ten o’clock.” He stretched, glanced back up at her. “I’d have thought you’d be rushing around with all sorts of last-minute details.”
She shook her head. “I’m the field producer, remember? I do the advance work, make sure everybody knows their dance steps. Once the talent hits the ground I pretty much take a backseat and watch it unfold.”
The talent,
Marshall thought, recalling the non-encounter he’d witnessed between Ekberg and Ashleigh Davis that morning.
“And you,” she said. “I haven’t seen you all day. What grand discoveries have you made?”
“We paleoecologists don’t go in for grand discoveries. We just try to answer questions, fill in the dark corners.”
“Then why work so late? It’s not like all this is going away.” And she waved a hand roughly in the direction of the glacier.
“Actually, it’s going away a lot faster than you might think.” He turned to the table, picked up a small yellow flower. “I found this just outside the perimeter wall this morning, poking up out of the snow. Ten years ago, the northerly range of this flower was a hundred miles south. That’s how much global warming has changed things in just a decade.”
“But I thought global warming helped your work.”
“Glacial melt helps me collect more samples, more quickly. I can collect everything from the face of a melting glacier-pollen, insects, pine-tree seeds, even atmospheric bubbles for sampling the amount of CO 2 in ancient air. It beats the hell out of drilling ice cores. But that doesn’t mean I’m enthusiastic about global warming. Scientists are supposed to be objective.”
She looked at him, wry smile deepening. “And is that what you are? Objective?”
He hesitated. Then he sighed. “If you want to know the truth…no. Global warming scares the hell out of me.
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