SSSD - Go solo

Alison is aware that her senses are calibrated for normal people and normal circumstances. Maybe that’s why her radar seems to be broken at Outpost 51. It’s weird.

“Do you need a top-up?” Alison asks.

“What?”

Alison indicates Renee’s coffee cup. She hasn’t touched it; the coffee is cold.

“No. No,” Renee says, shaking her head. “I’m OK.”

“All right. Just relax. The weather will get better and we’ll get you some help. It’ll be fine,” Alison assures her, finishing her coffee and pushing to her feet.

“Alison?”

The American says the name hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“When you came here, did you operate the vehicle?”

“Oh, hell no. I can’t drive one of those things,” Alison says with a laugh, leaving the dining room. “That’s all Signe.”

She finds Signe in the basement, which is shockingly roomy. There’s a limit to how closely Signe can examine the generator while it’s powered on, but she’s doing what she can. Several big manuals with yellowed pages are out, open to pages with diagrams that make Alison’s head hurt. It must be even worse for Signe, for whom English isn’t a first language.

Alison senses discomfort in the big Norwegian, and not just because of what happened last night. Signe looks neutral as Alison approaches. Just as Alison worries about accidentally doing or saying something that a Norwegian will find offensive, Signe is also wary of cultural differences.

Alison does what Signe will appreciate most and is all business.

“I just talked to Renee,” she reports, raising her voice over the chugging of the generator. “It sounds like they’re having some kind of mental health crisis up here. I think that’s why they’re acting so weird. Something’s definitely wrong.”

Signe nods.

“We have to try to get them some help when the weather clears. I told them they could use our phone.”

Signe nods again.

“Did you already tell Golda what’s going on?”

“Niv,” Signe replies.

Alison nods. Good. The people at Outpost 69 won’t worry. She hopes that Ro is doing OK.

“I’m going to make myself useful,” Alison says, and Signe waves to her, looking grateful.

Renee comes off a little detached, maybe as a way of coping with what’s going on. But she looks like a soccer mom to Alison. Margot is an icy sort of blonde who could easily pass for Norwegian. Liz, or as Renee said earlier, Eliza, is an aggressively pretty brunette. Bell looks like she belongs in a club somewhere. Or rather, that’s how they would all be if they were acting like normal women in the real world rather than traumatized scientists in Antarctica.

Alison doesn’t see Liz anywhere, but there’s fresh snow on the ground in one of the antechambers and the big garage door is open again. Only God knows what she’s doing in there.

Meanwhile, Margot is in one of the labs, bent over something with her back to the door.

Bell is in the old map room, and Alison has to assume that has to do with the dig site. She can’t really ask for specifics, and the last thing that she wants to do is harass people.

So she changes the lightbulbs that need it and tidies up both antechambers, putting everything in order. She does the same in the long hallway and cleans up the most feasible messes. The faint popping of lightbulbs, the faint scuffing of her broom, and the muffled howling of the storm outside are the only sounds. Outpost 69 isn’t exactly a party all the time, especially in the middle of the day, but it’s still livelier than this. As Alison sweeps industriously in the long hallway, the profound loneliness of this continent is particularly oppressive.

Staying busy is her way of coping. Seeking comfort in the arms of a certain Norwegian would be a nice alternative, but probably not appropriate. She could try to cheer up one or more of these women the CCL way, but that would require her to approach them, which is difficult. She’s not really supposed to be in the laboratories, and there probably is such a thing as being too CCL. Besides, how would Signe feel about it?

She turns with a start, seeing the figure standing in the hallway. It’s Bell. She wears jeans and a sweater with her hair pulled back. No makeup. She’s just staring.

Alison looks down at herself, then moves to the side.

“Sorry. I’m not trying to be in the way,” she says.

Nothing.

“Are you OK? Anything you need help with?” Alison asks.

“Alison?”

Alison turns to see Signe come around the corner.

“Yeah?”

“It looks light in the east. We may be able to travel. I’m going to call,” Signe says.

“Great. Um,” Alison turns back to address Bell, but she’s gone. Signe and Alison are alone in the hallway. “Sorry. Never mind. She was just there,” Alison says, pointing. “I’m going to snoop a little.”

Signe makes a face. She starts to form an ‘s’ sound.

“Snoop,” Alison repeats. “It means to investigate and be nosy.” Nosy is another word that Signe probably doesn’t know. “I’m a CCL girl,” Alison goes on, pointing at her nose. “We aren’t just horny. We’re mischievous. It's expected of us. I have to do this for the honor of the sisterhood.”

Now Signe just looks confused.

“I’m going to look around. Try and see what’s really going on here,” Alison tells her. “Can you make sure that we have power and a ride?”

Signe nods.

Alison watches her go, then turns back to confront the empty, long hallway. Every coin has two sides. Oppressive loneliness also means there’s nobody in the way. Alison has been polite long enough. Snooping is warranted. The question is, where?

Snoop in the labs?

Or snoop in living quarters?