Going Back Cold Page 2
“Look, Mommy!” Sebbie said proudly, bringing their creation over to her. Jane applauded and hung the picture on Sebbie’s blank bedroom wall.
“Ooh, dat’s good,” he said in approval.
“I think so, too,” she said, wishing the room would feel cozier. “Now let’s get your jammies on and brush your teeth.”
Just before eight, Sebbie was tucked into bed with a sweet prayer. Jane adjusted the audio/video monitor that hung in his room with her hand.
“MILO can do that, I bet,” Lucas said. After kissing Sebastian, he left his son’s little bedroom in search of his tablet to set up remote controls for the monitor.
Once Sebbie was settled, Jane kissed Lucas (who was focused on setting up MILO to alert them anywhere on the base if Seb woke up) and left for Cheyenne’s office.
When she walked in, she found Cheyenne sitting with the older pilot. Hal-icopter, she thought with a smile. It was sweet of him to help Sebbie, and secretly she didn’t mind the mnemonic to keep his name fresh in her mind. While she’d been working with the other scientists for years, the support crew members were all new colleagues.
“Hi guys,” Jane said.
“Hi Jane,” Cheyenne replied. “We're just getting started on the schedule for tomorrow. Grab a seat.”
“Thanks. What will you be up to, Hal?” Jane asked.
“Making an outdoor circuit to make sure the advance team hooked up the generators to my liking,” Hal replied. He was early fifties, Jane figured, with kind eyes and an ever-present navy beanie. “If I see any wildlife, I’ll take a picture for your little boy.”
“He’d love that,” Jane said.
“We need to stay ahead of the weather. Be on constant watch for ice build-up while you’re out,” Cheyenne said, tapping on her tablet to project the team's itinerary for tomorrow onto one of the large screens on her office wall.
“Will do,” Hal said. He pulled reading glasses out of his pocket before working on his own tablet, presumably adding notes to his personal to-do list.
Tasks on the base were generally split into categories. Everyone shared food prep and clean up. Then, the support personnel had their own duties, not related to the actual Split Horizon project: maintenance items, medical check-ups, communications protocols, emergency drills, weather reporting. The science team, led by Jane, included the two other women in her physics department plus two engineers, a metallurgist, and Lucas as their chemist/crystallographer.
“So,” Jane said, reading down the list on the wall. “My team’s going to start testing our arc models against various Antarctic weather patterns tomorrow. Starting to confirm how high the capsule needs to travel now that we’re on-site.”
“Good, and I’ll be setting up the protocols to connect live with the meteorology team,” Cheyenne continued reading. “Oh, and tomorrow everyone does a baseline physical now that we're supposedly adjusted to Antarctica.”
“Cool. And engineering?” Jane asked.
“Hmm… it just says ‘continued testing’,” Cheyenne said with a frown. “I’ll have to get more details on that.”
“Wait, maybe I know,” Jane said, flipping to a long email exchange that she’d been CC-ed on.
After reading for a moment, she said, “Ah, yes, ok. They're gonna run some indoor tests with Lucas’ gems in the prototype.”
“How does he have gems already?” Cheyenne asked.
“Sorry, not new quartz. These are the ones from home,” Jane answered. “They're leftovers from the proof of concept that got us the funding to come down here.”
Jane and Lucas had been working for NASA on their idea of piezoelectric jet propulsion for almost a decade. Piezoelectricity, a word derived from the Greek piezein which means to squeeze or press, used crystals to convert mechanical energy into electrical energy. Essentially, when certain types of crystals have mechanical pressure applied (in other words, when they are squeezed), an electrical field is generated.
Normally, an extremely minimal electric charge would be created, but Lucas had modified his unique quartz gems to enhance the effect into a monumental surge. Paired with Jane's genius jet capsule design, a formidable amount of power generated immediate propulsion.
A tangible hope for faster-than-light travel, or FTL, was one of the anticipate applications of the Whyse's technology. Their demonstration had secured the grant they coveted to expand their research into Antarctica’s cold temperatures, one step closer to simulating the deep freeze of space. Their current prototype had clocked a jump at over Mach 100,000 (76 million miles per hour) according to NASA’s best equipment. It was a sleek metal capsule, about a meter in total length, pointed at the front end and with small fins at the back for stability. It actually looked similar to a rocket a middle school student might build for science class.
“So, how much larger are the proof-of-concept gems you brought than what he’s growing now?” Cheyenne asked Jane.
“They're the same diameter, but pretty thick, like six micrometers,” Jane continued.
“I hear you blew any other man-made machine speed records out of the water by like a thousand percent,” Cheyenne said.
“That's when you got nominated for the Nobel?” Hal asked.
Jane laughed. “Yeah, that’ll be the day,” she said. “I did get a Franklin Institute Award last year, though, so... I’m pretty much the big time.”
Hal smiled. “So what's the big picture for these four months?”
“Well, this year, we’re just starting out, but the ultimate goal in four years is about 875,000 Mach—”
“To go faster than light! Zoom!” Sebastian finished from behind his mom, startling her.
“Sebbie!” Jane said, embarrassed and slightly annoyed. “I thought you were asleep!”
Cheyenne laughed as Jane offered a “be right back” over her shoulder and marched her little escape artist back to bed.
Chapter 2
MILO Personal Dictation: Jane Whyse
Well, hello, MILO.
Sebbie’s now in bed for the third time. Joy.
Three days isn't very settled in, but I guess we're ready to start working. I'm eager to begin testing with the added benefit of cold temperatures and uninhabited space to let the theory blossom.
It seems like such a crazy purpose, but I feel like God brought Lucas and I together just for this. We’ve been planning this project since we met.
Sebastian is loving this adventure so far, but I worry about the solitude for him. Four months is a long time for your closest (and only) friend to be eight years older than you. He had his first ‘video play date’ with a preschool friend yesterday and was entirely unimpressed.
Man, I'm completely exhausted! The dry air, temperature, and light changes are working together to sap my energy. Not to mention the time change. Ugh, I need a time machine to catch up on sleep.
Antarctica is different than I imagined. 'Isolated' doesn't begin to describe this place. We call it “The Dome.” Apparently ‘Semotus Domus’ means isolated house. They said to imagine Mars, but I gotta say, it’s not a big stretch.
Lucas said he has 2 million microscopic chemical drips started in his quartz farm, so in about a month, we're hoping the robotic assembly can begin for the first capsule chamber.
Depending on the weather, we have sixteen clear arcs charted from our origin here to the catch site where the capsule's receiving deck will be. Once the engineers get the prototype functioning, next month, I hope, we can run more than mathematical sims.
The metallurgist Dr. Riddhi Bidell says all her materials made the journey, so tomorrow, she starts cooking more metal.
I still can't believe she shaved her head. She looks like a cancer patient. Can I say that? I guess I did. Don’t tell anyone, MILO. Maybe shave your head when you’re 18 or even 25, but not 40-something. She's just too old to be bald. But she's way too buff to be a cancer patient. Sebastian likes her. He wants to name her concoction “monkey metal”, but she just sticks to calling it FAD
454.
Chapter 3
“Crap, Candace, your hands are cold!” Jane said during her physical the next day. Candace Hartwell, a nurse, was slated to fill the dual roles of medical officer and tutor to the crew’s two children. She had come to Antarctica to gain unique experience while writing the thesis to complete her MSN and become a nurse practitioner. Today she wore a medical lab coat over very fitted workout leggings and a coordinating top. Her long black hair was pulled back in a clip.
“Sorry, Dr. Whyse,” Candace replied, rubbing her fingers together rapidly.
“‘Dr. Whyse?’” Jane repeated. She’d known Candace for over a year, and they were way past formalities.
“Well, you know, this is supposed to be official,” Candace said, nodding to the video console that was streaming to the doctors back home. “I'm not technically conducting this; I'm just the hands for NASA's physician on the line.”
“Well,” Jane said, speaking into the mic attached to Candace's lab coat, “Unseen doctor, your hands are cold.”
Candace chuckled. “So, did you record your first personal log?”
“Yes,” Jane replied. “Lucas kept making Star Trek 'captain's log' jokes when I got back.”
Candace smiled and shook her head. “Well, everybody has to make a personal recording at least once a week,” Candace said. “You'll get an email from the psych oversight team if you don't.”
“Am I a terrible mom for bringing Sebbie here? To advance my career?”
“Are you kidding? This is a once in a lifetime experience! He’s already more well-travelled than 95% of American adults,” Candace replied.
“Not the location, though,” Jane said, “They say with all the rules, Antarctica is actually one of the safest places on the planet to work. I meant the colonization research they snuck in.”
“They’re already saying we’ll take some breaks from the isolation,” Candace said as she held a stethoscope against Jane’s back. “Deep breath.”
Jane and Lucas had always kept their family together wherever they worked, so when they asked to take Sebastian to Antarctica, the laughter was a surprising response. However, Jane was determined to have her family cake and eat the career, too, so she asked around until she discovered Project HI-SEAS.
From 2013-2018, NASA had funded six missions at the University of Hawaii called Hawaii Space Exploration Analog and Simulation (HI-SEAS). The highly publicized project had researched the individual and team requirements for long-duration space exploration missions, including travel to Mars. The crews were isolated for four- to eight-month periods in a geodesic dome habitat on the volcano Mauna Loa, and their interactions were studied for resiliency and conflict resolution. Jane proposed that NASA could revitalize this research goal, and even have the benefit of family units, including children, which would be necessary as they considered what might go into colonization of the red planet.
“I guess I’ll have a bunch of NASA experts weigh in if it’s damaging his psyche,” Jane teased.
“And bonus,” Candace added. “You’ll have a video diary of your time here that will 'provide an outlet to enhance our mental wellbeing' since we're alone on the bottom of the world.”
“Gee, that's reassuring,” Jane said. “But at least it’s not really Mars.”
“Maybe we'll even learn to enjoy verbalizing our thoughts like people in a reality show confessional. Now,” Candace said as she reached for a small sample cup and directed Jane toward the bathroom, “I hope you drank a lot of water.”
“And didn't do any drugs,” Jane teased as she clicked the door closed.
Everything at the base was composted, so Jane always thought the toilets had a weird smell. Today, for some reason, it overwhelmed her, and she gagged unexpectedly. Retching for a moment, she leaned over the toilet and puked.
Hope she didn't hear that, Jane thought. If everyone starts throwing up, they're going to be mad that I carried germs down here.
She cupped her hand under the faucet to rinse her mouth and clear the sour taste, then filled the sample. Re-entering the exam room, she handed the cup awkwardly to Candace. The nurse donned gloves and a mask, dipped a half-dozen colorful strips into the sample, and inserted them into the automated processor for reading.
“MILO, please run the required tests for Dr. Jane Whyse's check in,” she said, removing her mask.
Candace methodically completed the steps on her checklist, checking her pulse, blood pressure, height, weight, ears, nose, eyes, and throat.
Finally, she concluded. “Ok, just need some blood, and we're done.” Jane closed her eyes for the stick in the arm, but it wasn't as bad as she'd feared. Candace slipped the vial into a tabletop centrifuge which started whirring.
“Confirmed. Processing,” the wall replied.
“Wow, it's connected to MILO?” Jane said with eyebrows raised.
“Everything is,” Candace confirmed with a nod. “Like I said, I'm just the hands. No brain here.”
Jane chuckled. “So I'm done? Good to go?”
“Sorry, no, they need to conference with you now to discuss the results.”
“That sounds ominous,” Jane said.
“Nope, they’ll talk to everybody,” Candace replied. “Just come on out whenever they're done.”
Candace left the room and closed the door. The monitors flipped on to reveal video feed from a NASA physician. “Hello, Dr. Whyse, I'm the medical director here at NASA, and I'm in charge of your care while you reside in Antarctica.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jane replied.
“You, too. Now, I'll cut right to the point. Your urine results are back, and there’s something unexpected to discuss.”
“Really? I did just throw up,” she confessed.
“You misunderstand me,” the physician said. “Dr. Whyse, you're pregnant.”
Jane cocked her head and waited. Sitting silently, her mind was completely blank.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” Jane said, and suddenly, her mind was more full of spinning thoughts than it had ever been.
“Dr. Whyse?” the physician said after another long silence.
“Wow. Ok,” Jane began. Lord, what are you doing? she prayed silently in confusion. “Are you sure? I mean, we use birth control.”
“We're sure,” he replied. “There isn't an ultrasound at Semotus to get you a definite date, but if you know your last cycle, I can figure it out for you.”
“Sure, I... I can look in my planner. I'll check and email it to you.”
The doctor reviewed the rest of her medical report, and everything else was normal, right down to her blood pressure. Jane stared at his image on the screen without anything to say.
“Dr. Whyse?”
“Sorry, I'm listening. I guess I just... Wow. Ok. I’m pregnant on a remote base with limited medical—wait, did I just screw up the Mars research? Is there a protocol for this?”
“Nothing formal.”
“I guess we’re only here four months… Are you going to tell Candace?” Jane asked. “I'd like to tell my husband first.”
“No, this is all protected health information. But, personally, I recommend you tell Colonel Edwards as early as you feel comfortable, since he's in command of your project.”
“Right. Ok.”
“Dr. Whyse, may I speak freely?”
“Sure.”
“Is this good news or bad news?” he asked.
“What?”
“I doubt there's anything helpful at Semotus, but I can probably get you whatever you want from McMurdo. There are prescriptions for many options in this situation.”
Jane felt her jaw clench and firmly said, “Yes, could you please see what vitamins we can get our hands on? I remember from Sebbie's pregnancy that I should have extra DHA, right?”
“Correct,” the physician replied with a nod. “And I'll evaluate your nutritional profile.”
“Thank you,” Jane said, adjusting her ponytail. “I'm shocked, but th
is is great news. Lucas and I want more kids, we just... Split Horizon is a four-month stay each Antarctic summer for the next four years. We were going to wait.”
Lord Jesus, wow, she prayed wordlessly.
“Well, someone needs to do a revised medical assessment for pregnancy risks related to your entire project,” the physician said, leaning forward so his face filled more of her monitor. “All the chemicals, equipment, nutrition, sleeping arrangements, everything.”
“Right,” Jane said, trying to think clearly but starting to marvel at her predicament. “Because—surprise—I’m pregnant. And leading a science team in this research base here on the frozen bottom of the world.”
The doctor finally hung up when Jane’s confused laughter subsided.
Once she had settled down and wiped away the evidence of tears, Jane left the examination room and nodded to Candace that she could return to her desk.
“Everything ok, Jane?”
“Yes, thanks,” she replied, heading down the hallway. “Holler when everyone's done, and I'll review the team summary the NASA doc writes up.”
“Will do.”
When Candace was handling her medical duties, the child care responsibilities often fell to Ana McDell. Ana was a doctoral candidate in physics and had become one of Jane’s good friends. Her 10-year-old daughter Dámaris was the Antarctic mission's other underage team member.
Jane hurried down to the common area. Dámaris was sitting on a couch with Sebastian and reading while he colored.
“Hey momma,” Sebastian said. “Lookit I made!”
“I love it!” Jane said, slumping onto the sofa beside him. “Can mommy have hugs?”
Ana heard the new voice and came out from her bedroom. “My turn?”
“Your turn. I'll stay here,” Jane nodded. “Watch out for the sharp part at the end.”
“Gee, thanks,” Ana said as she walked out. “Mind Dr. Whyse, Dámaris. I'll be back shortly.”
Jane's thoughts were jumbled as Sebastian put his head in her lap and chattered about what he had done that morning. A baby. Another baby. I'm in Antarctica! she thought.