Fiction by Gavin Tierney
Ian lit one cigarette from another. His black hair was pulled back underneath a gray bandana. The song ended, permitting conversation in the bar to continue.
“Antarctica was never meant to exist man.” Ian sat back in his chair, his hands raised into the air.
“You see, it was a mistake. Someone messed up. The reason it did ‘come into being,’ was a simple miscalculation, something having to do with land mass and the Earth’s rotation.” Ian’s finger tips touched the sides of his head and then bounced forward, flinging thoughts like droplets of water.
“So, because some metaphysical fuck-up forgot to move the decimal point over one, we are stuck with a big old piece of ice and rock. Antarctica slipped through the cracks and the powers that be decided to just let those humans deal with it.” Ian’s hands relaxed in his lap. No one had taken notice of him.
“The way I heard it was that the whole bottom of the Earth, rotating axis bit wasn’t even the original idea. As I was told, there was some big elaborate plan with alternate suns and pulls of gravity, where the Earth would twist and turn every which way. ‘A Tropical Paradise’ it was billed as in the brochures. Of course that was just a thought that was being tossed around and then PR got wind of it. Well, needless to say, nearly all of those brochures were thrown away.” Ian reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled pamphlet.
“I found this in the bottom of some file cabinet they loaned me to work on the project.”
Ian slapped the brochure down on the table. A picture of the Earth and a woman in a bikini were on the front.
“So, like all things dealing with creation and the universe, the whole project was just pushed on through. A better gravitational system could have been created, sure, but all the man upstairs wanted was a product for as low cost as possible. Earth wasn’t even the focus back then. It was just some humanitarian tax write-off. So, production began and, the next thing you know, there the Earth was Antarctica and all.” Ian tipped forward, his elbows on his knees, his finger tips touching his forehead.
“There was talk of just kind of chopping off the bottom of the planet, amputating the whole damn mistake, but they realized that wouldn’t work. Then they thought of scrapping the whole thing, recycling the parts that could be used and burning the rest. But, it cost less to just leave Antarctica and hope no one noticed.” Ian sat back. A large grin grew on his face as he nodded.
“And it all worked out pretty well. No one really cares about Antarctica.” Ian jerked forward, his hands reaching out.
“But here’s the crazy part. You know that whole bit about the ozone? Well, their just covering their bases, hiding the evidence. Antarctica still bugged the powers that be. That’s how I found out about it. They called me up to consult on the micro organic bionomic sub deltoid particles that the lowest levels of the UV radiation filter out. It’s a good thing too, without the sub particle calibration the melting would have occurred twice as fast. They made sure there were no mistakes with landmass and decimal points this time.” Ian paused, retracting his hands and folding them on his stomach.
“And you know it’s about time they got rid of the place. I mean look at Antarctica, bottom of the entire world, all ice and desolation, with no purpose. Mistakes were made and there it is; Antarctica: just waiting to melt and be forgotten.” Ian took the butt of his cigarette and lit another.
Gavin Tierney worked as a dining assistant in McMurdo Station during the 2005-2006 summer season. He teaches and lives in Seattle.
Image: Equipment at the Ice Runway, Bob Champoux
Fri 10 Feb 2006