The Pole of Inaccessibility

  ***

  The communications room at Vostok Station housed most of the computer equipment, as well as the radio. The Communications Operator would monitor guard frequencies, mostly American, on the radio, as well as taking messages from the Telex. At that time, they had limited, if any, means of connecting to the Internet, which was still an American invention that had only recently allowed public access outside of large institutions.

  Gregore, the operator, read the message thoughtfully. He didn’t believe a word of it; it didn’t make any sense. It was the fact that he was being charged with a surprise visit to the American camp that disturbed him. First, he was told to abandon the fantasy that he was a radio operator and to take charge of the operation. Second, he was to visit the camp, and observe what was going on, without directly asking if they were doing what it was suspected they might be doing. That was not as easy as it sounded. One did not post signs that read “Illegal Operations Being Contemplated Here.” One geologist making observations looked like another. How was he supposed to know?

  He thought about whom he was to travel with and where they intended to go. It was not that far out of the way. He considered not telling the others why they were making the visit, except to make a treaty inspection, which was a mere social call. There was a quota or something, he would say, and they were one short. In the end, he decided to let the others in once they were underway. He would need other eyes searching, also. What was he supposed to look for, oil wells?

  Walking through the galley from the communication room, he picked up his coat and walked out into the blinding sunshine. Like all of those who had spent the winter at Vostok, the mid-summer sun felt pleasant and he went hatless unless he was out for an extended time, despite the minus-five degrees of temperature, Fahrenheit. Well, there was one upshot, he thought. Knowing that he wielded secret power was amusing for only so long. What was the point of having power if those around you didn’t acknowledge and respect it? Most of them did, of course, but his acting the part of a lowly operator allowed them to act like important intelligentsia and treat him like an inferior underling. An act it was, but a very unpleasant one.

  He could see the French crew working on the ice drill to windward, the American with them. No, he would not discuss what he knew before setting out. Who knew what they talked about when he could not hear? Not that it had mattered before. There was nothing here that needed protecting, and the scientific data was to be shared, regardless. Still, it would be better to be safe.