u/Fabulous-Bird-3018

“It’s dumber than hell!”

Momma shouted from the porch as the man finished packing up his car in the drive. 

“All those years in school and thousands of dollars spent just to send my son to the bottom of hell just to tell us it’s cold!” She croaked and as he walked closer. 

“There’s a bit more that goes into it mama.” He replied as he walked up the porch. 

The man hugged his mother, initially to calm her down. But as he embraced her he got the sense to hold tight, as if she was about to float away. Like his grasp is the only thing keeping her from joining the heavens. 

“Well, agree to disagree!” She said in her sassy tone that the man loved most about her. “Just come back or I’ll go down there and drag your sorry ass up here myself” 

Driving down the road looking at his mother in the rear view depending on her walker just to get herself back inside; the man felt the urge to slam on the brakes. To reverse. To go home. Throw away all of the years of training. Call the operation chief and tell him he’s out. Take care of mama for the rest of her days… He drove on. 

Temperature: -34 degrees
Elevation: 7836 feet
Wind speed: 26 km/hr 
Atmospheric pressure: 674 hPa 
Nearest human being: 572 Kilometres

The man read it, re-read it, again and again. Fighting the fire in the pit of his stomach bringing him to the verge of vomiting. 

Just blame the motion sickness he thought as the pilot radioed the helicopter's coordinates to base camp.

Follow the protocols, they’re there to save you, follow the protocols, they're there to save you, follow the protocols they’re ther…..

“Landing in 5 everyone” the pilot said, shocking the man out of his self-deprecating daze. 

The man has always used reason, he’s a rational man, an intelligent man, a hard working man. The kind of man every mother in the neighborhood compared their sons to. When he graduated mama was gleaming with joy, he didn’t even have to look for her in the crowd, her pride glowed like the blazing bush itself. 

When he told her he wanted to go to the bottom of earth she nearly collapsed. The longing and sorrow she was feeling over her only son’s decision ripping her heart in two. She loved her son more than she wanted her next breath, because of this she knew she could not step in the way of his decision. He had always been a rational man, she knew if he set his mind to something he was going. She wanted him to accomplish his wildest dreams, but this? No she could not step in his way, her son's happiness is what she used to fuel her battle with cancer. He had done so much for her, no she could not step in his way.

Landing at his new home; the frigid air and blinding light of the sun reflecting off the never ending snow being his only welcome party to the location he had spent the majority of his adult life chasing. he watched the helicopter fly off until it was swallowed by the white expanse of frozen nothing surrounding him in all directions. 

McMurdo Station - TEMP Lab 2309

The man stares at the sign welded to the large metal door of the lab. 

The structure the man now called home for the next 3 weeks was no larger than a shipping container. Rations for 3 weeks have been provided as well as a working shower and toilet. The Yankees spare no expense. He thought. His mom used to say he got his Canadian pride from his father, but the man wouldn’t know. 

By the time he was settled in it was midnight, however the sun would not set for another 9 days. Once it does it will not be seen again for six months. 

The work the man does only takes a minute in the day, simply recording the temperature, wind speed, and atmospheric pressure 3 times a day. 

The more pressing job at hand was the constant battle of isolation and inevitability of madness. The man knew where he now found himself is the one place on earth humans were not meant to venture. 

He lay in his bed reading one of the several novels that took up half of the school backpack he was provided for personal items. While he comprehends the words, he does not retain their meaning as he is completely distracted by the howl of the wind against the 1 inch thick glass porthole of the door closer related to a doomsday bunker protecting him from the freezing killing engine that awaits him just feet from where he lays his head. 

For the next week the man did little else, record data and try to ignore the expanse watching over him like a strict parent. His daily routine quickly devolved into reading endless amounts of tales of adventure and drama from the many books accompanying him.

When the inevitable setting of the sun came the man looked out on the expanse. Soaking in the beautiful flame of life one last time. The snow reflecting colours the man never thought the sun could make. The fading blue of the sky and the sheet of white landscape shine in his eye to make a purple halo surrounding the endless expanse. He prays to God's beauty one last time. He will not see it for 6 months. 

Looking out the porthole from his bed not 15 minutes later his mind momentarily races with confusion. Black. Nothing. 

The mix of every colour imaginable that was the sky moments earlier is now a black hole of absolute nothingness he now called his view from his half frosted over porthole window. I have been swallowed. He thinks.

Best not think of that now. He reminds himself rolling over in his cot and waiting for his consciousness to slip. The wind is always higher in the dark, 85 km/hr last he read before going to bed. The rattling metal of the shipping container being his familiar lullaby. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He could have sworn he heard it, through the rattles the sound of a rhythmic knock of someone at his door. Not possible, he thought to himself as he lay facing away from the door with his eyes sprung open. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He flips over and stares directly at the porthole on the door. It offers no assurances, just a black screen of nothing. He checks his computer. Wind speed 83 km/hr temperature -63 degrees.

 If someone was out there they would be screaming at the door. Go to bed.

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He attempts to do so, checking the time he sees it at 3AM. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

The more it happens the more he convinces himself it is not natural. If it was the sensors banging against the hull it wouldn’t be so consistent. 3 small knocks a break of approx 3 seconds and 3 more knocks in intervals of about 20 seconds. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

Opening the door in these conditions was not an option. He must get some rest and look around when the wind dies down. He feared he was already slipping into madness on only his first night in the dark. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

It was not until 2 PM the next day did the wind quiet down enough for a safe walk outside. 11 hours of constant rhythmic knocking, eating away at his sanity like a termite. Getting his military flashlight he gingerly opens the door opening to the black expanse. 

He spends the next few minutes looking at everything attached to the container that could possibly make the knocking noise and finds nothing. Even more puzzling, as soon as he opened the door it stopped. In the few minutes he was out here he had not heard it once. The door was closed. He should be able to hear it but it’s like the knocking has been satisfied by his presence. 

On his way back inside his flashlight slid across the powdered floor and stopped without him even being conscious of it. It’s not possible he repeats in his mind over and over. 

Footprints, much smaller than his massive boots, what look like loafers sit facing the door. Perfectly imprinted in the snow. Shaking the man turns the flashlight to his left and what he sees causes his heart to drop out of his shoes. Hundreds of foot prints, exactly the same shape, all facing the door. 

At these windspeeds the prints would have been covered over in less than 2 minutes. He thought as a growing feeling of being watched rises in his abdomen. 

They just left.

The man is back inside slammed back against the door breathing heavily in less than 4 steps. Sitting on the ground with his back leaning against the door the man’s mind was racing at a million miles an hour. 

If someone was out there why did they just knock? How could they get all the way out here in those shoes? How many are there? Back and forth for what felt like hours. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock.

I didn’t hear that.

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock.

“Hello?” He called out to the door. What is happening to me? Calling out to the abyss genuinely looking for an answer? He thinks to himself.

“Hello sir! May I just have a moment of your time on this lovely afternoon?” A chipper sounding man’s voice comes muffled through the large metal door. 

No no. I’ve gone mad. I’ve lost it. There is no one out there I need to radio base camp for emergency pickup. I cannot be out here for another moment. He tells himself as he lunges up and dives towards the emergency radio to base. 

“No need for that sir!” The voice on the end of the door calls out. The voice on the other end sounds like a well rehearsed script the man has heard many times at the electronics store he worked at as a teenager. 

“McMurdo Station to Lab 2309 requesting emergency evacuation please acknowledge” the man said into the radio while spamming the red emergency button. 

Nothing came through the other end for minutes. The man’s heart felt like it was going to give out. 

“May we have a proper introduction sir?” The voice on the other end of the door asked. “Open the door” 

“Who are you?” The man asked through his rapid breathing.

“That’s not of your immediate concern, is it?” The chipper voice responds.

“What are you?”

Through the wind the man hears the unmistakable sound of crunching snow under a foot. But more alarmingly the sounds seem to repeat, coming from all directions, as if thousands of people took a step forward at the same time. 

“I can be anytime you want me to be.”  It's smug tone taking a sinister tone.

The man stumbles for his rifle resting on the wall. 

“I am armed and you are trespassing on sanctioned American territory.” 

A moment of utter silence follows. Not even the wind made a sound. 

Only for the silence to be shattered by an enormous crash on the north side of the container furthest away from the man. The top corners of the walls heavily indent on the east and west side simultaneously. 

The man slams his back against the wall furthest from the side of the container closing in like a swallowing throat in slow motion. 

Just before the north side of the container is completely sealed the pressure stops. A deafening, disgustingly wet sliding noise is heard as the whole container rocks back, nearly tipping over entirely. The man falls into a ball on the floor and he closes his eyes. 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are wit…

“If you saw a god before you, do you think your prayers will save you?” 

The man’s crack opened as the hellish sound of this beast's grasp on the ceiling above him. The man stares in dread as the corners of the ceiling above him begin to cave in. 

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all o…

The man sobs, clutching his rifle like he was back in his momma's arms. Just before the man cannot hear at all the beast speaks in his mothers voice. 

“It's dumber than hell.” 

“It’s dumber than hell!”

Momma shouted from the porch as the man finished packing up his car in the drive. 

“All those years in school and thousands of dollars spent just to send my son to the bottom of hell just to tell us it’s cold!” She croaked and as he walked closer. 

“There’s a bit more that goes into it mama.” He replied as he walked up the porch. 

The man hugged his mother, initially to calm her down. But as he embraced her he got the sense to hold tight, as if she was about to float away. Like his grasp is the only thing keeping her from joining the heavens. 

“Well, agree to disagree!” She said in her sassy tone that the man loved most about her. “Just come back or I’ll go down there and drag your sorry ass up here myself” 

Driving down the road looking at his mother in the rear view depending on her walker just to get herself back inside; the man felt the urge to slam on the brakes. To reverse. To go home. Throw away all of the years of training. Call the operation chief and tell him he’s out. Take care of mama for the rest of her days… He drove on. 

Temperature: -34 degrees
Elevation: 7836 feet
Wind speed: 26 km/hr 
Atmospheric pressure: 674 hPa 
Nearest human being: 572 Kilometres

The man read it, re-read it, again and again. Fighting the fire in the pit of his stomach bringing him to the verge of vomiting. 

Just blame the motion sickness he thought as the pilot radioed the helicopter's coordinates to base camp.

Follow the protocols, they’re there to save you, follow the protocols, they're there to save you, follow the protocols they’re ther…..

“Landing in 5 everyone” the pilot said, shocking the man out of his self-deprecating daze. 

The man has always used reason, he’s a rational man, an intelligent man, a hard working man. The kind of man every mother in the neighborhood compared their sons to. When he graduated mama was gleaming with joy, he didn’t even have to look for her in the crowd, her pride glowed like the blazing bush itself. 

When he told her he wanted to go to the bottom of earth she nearly collapsed. The longing and sorrow she was feeling over her only son’s decision ripping her heart in two. She loved her son more than she wanted her next breath, because of this she knew she could not step in the way of his decision. He had always been a rational man, she knew if he set his mind to something he was going. She wanted him to accomplish his wildest dreams, but this? No she could not step in his way, her son's happiness is what she used to fuel her battle with cancer. He had done so much for her, no she could not step in his way.

Landing at his new home; the frigid air and blinding light of the sun reflecting off the never ending snow being his only welcome party to the location he had spent the majority of his adult life chasing. he watched the helicopter fly off until it was swallowed by the white expanse of frozen nothing surrounding him in all directions. 

McMurdo Station - TEMP Lab 2309

The man stares at the sign welded to the large metal door of the lab. 

The structure the man now called home for the next 3 weeks was no larger than a shipping container. Rations for 3 weeks have been provided as well as a working shower and toilet. The Yankees spare no expense. He thought. His mom used to say he got his Canadian pride from his father, but the man wouldn’t know. 

By the time he was settled in it was midnight, however the sun would not set for another 9 days. Once it does it will not be seen again for six months. 

The work the man does only takes a minute in the day, simply recording the temperature, wind speed, and atmospheric pressure 3 times a day. 

The more pressing job at hand was the constant battle of isolation and inevitability of madness. The man knew where he now found himself is the one place on earth humans were not meant to venture. 

He lay in his bed reading one of the several novels that took up half of the school backpack he was provided for personal items. While he comprehends the words, he does not retain their meaning as he is completely distracted by the howl of the wind against the 1 inch thick glass porthole of the door closer related to a doomsday bunker protecting him from the freezing killing engine that awaits him just feet from where he lays his head. 

For the next week the man did little else, record data and try to ignore the expanse watching over him like a strict parent. His daily routine quickly devolved into reading endless amounts of tales of adventure and drama from the many books accompanying him.

When the inevitable setting of the sun came the man looked out on the expanse. Soaking in the beautiful flame of life one last time. The snow reflecting colours the man never thought the sun could make. The fading blue of the sky and the sheet of white landscape shine in his eye to make a purple halo surrounding the endless expanse. He prays to God's beauty one last time. He will not see it for 6 months. 

Looking out the porthole from his bed not 15 minutes later his mind momentarily races with confusion. Black. Nothing. 

The mix of every colour imaginable that was the sky moments earlier is now a black hole of absolute nothingness he now called his view from his half frosted over porthole window. I have been swallowed. He thinks.

Best not think of that now. He reminds himself rolling over in his cot and waiting for his consciousness to slip. The wind is always higher in the dark, 85 km/hr last he read before going to bed. The rattling metal of the shipping container being his familiar lullaby. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He could have sworn he heard it, through the rattles the sound of a rhythmic knock of someone at his door. Not possible, he thought to himself as he lay facing away from the door with his eyes sprung open. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He flips over and stares directly at the porthole on the door. It offers no assurances, just a black screen of nothing. He checks his computer. Wind speed 83 km/hr temperature -63 degrees.

 If someone was out there they would be screaming at the door. Go to bed.

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He attempts to do so, checking the time he sees it at 3AM. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

The more it happens the more he convinces himself it is not natural. If it was the sensors banging against the hull it wouldn’t be so consistent. 3 small knocks a break of approx 3 seconds and 3 more knocks in intervals of about 20 seconds. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

Opening the door in these conditions was not an option. He must get some rest and look around when the wind dies down. He feared he was already slipping into madness on only his first night in the dark. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

It was not until 2 PM the next day did the wind quiet down enough for a safe walk outside. 11 hours of constant rhythmic knocking, eating away at his sanity like a termite. Getting his military flashlight he gingerly opens the door opening to the black expanse. 

He spends the next few minutes looking at everything attached to the container that could possibly make the knocking noise and finds nothing. Even more puzzling, as soon as he opened the door it stopped. In the few minutes he was out here he had not heard it once. The door was closed. He should be able to hear it but it’s like the knocking has been satisfied by his presence. 

On his way back inside his flashlight slid across the powdered floor and stopped without him even being conscious of it. It’s not possible he repeats in his mind over and over. 

Footprints, much smaller than his massive boots, what look like loafers sit facing the door. Perfectly imprinted in the snow. Shaking the man turns the flashlight to his left and what he sees causes his heart to drop out of his shoes. Hundreds of foot prints, exactly the same shape, all facing the door. 

At these windspeeds the prints would have been covered over in less than 2 minutes. He thought as a growing feeling of being watched rises in his abdomen. 

They just left.

The man is back inside slammed back against the door breathing heavily in less than 4 steps. Sitting on the ground with his back leaning against the door the man’s mind was racing at a million miles an hour. 

If someone was out there why did they just knock? How could they get all the way out here in those shoes? How many are there? Back and forth for what felt like hours. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock.

I didn’t hear that.

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock.

“Hello?” He called out to the door. What is happening to me? Calling out to the abyss genuinely looking for an answer? He thinks to himself.

“Hello sir! May I just have a moment of your time on this lovely afternoon?” A chipper sounding man’s voice comes muffled through the large metal door. 

No no. I’ve gone mad. I’ve lost it. There is no one out there I need to radio base camp for emergency pickup. I cannot be out here for another moment. He tells himself as he lunges up and dives towards the emergency radio to base. 

“No need for that sir!” The voice on the end of the door calls out. The voice on the other end sounds like a well rehearsed script the man has heard many times at the electronics store he worked at as a teenager. 

“McMurdo Station to Lab 2309 requesting emergency evacuation please acknowledge” the man said into the radio while spamming the red emergency button. 

Nothing came through the other end for minutes. The man’s heart felt like it was going to give out. 

“May we have a proper introduction sir?” The voice on the other end of the door asked. “Open the door” 

“Who are you?” The man asked through his rapid breathing.

“That’s not of your immediate concern, is it?” The chipper voice responds.

“What are you?”

Through the wind the man hears the unmistakable sound of crunching snow under a foot. But more alarmingly the sounds seem to repeat, coming from all directions, as if thousands of people took a step forward at the same time. 

“I can be anytime you want me to be.”  It's smug tone taking a sinister tone.

The man stumbles for his rifle resting on the wall. 

“I am armed and you are trespassing on sanctioned American territory.” 

A moment of utter silence follows. Not even the wind made a sound. 

Only for the silence to be shattered by an enormous crash on the north side of the container furthest away from the man. The top corners of the walls heavily indent on the east and west side simultaneously. 

The man slams his back against the wall furthest from the side of the container closing in like a swallowing throat in slow motion. 

Just before the north side of the container is completely sealed the pressure stops. A deafening, disgustingly wet sliding noise is heard as the whole container rocks back, nearly tipping over entirely. The man falls into a ball on the floor and he closes his eyes. 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are wit…

“If you saw a god before you, do you think your prayers will save you?” 

The man’s crack opened as the hellish sound of this beast's grasp on the ceiling above him. The man stares in dread as the corners of the ceiling above him begin to cave in. 

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all o…

The man sobs, clutching his rifle like he was back in his momma's arms. Just before the man cannot hear at all the beast speaks in his mothers voice. 

“It's dumber than hell.” 

“It’s dumber than hell!”

Momma shouted from the porch as the man finished packing up his car in the drive. 

“All those years in school and thousands of dollars spent just to send my son to the bottom of hell just to tell us it’s cold!” She croaked and as he walked closer. 

“There’s a bit more that goes into it mama.” He replied as he walked up the porch. 

The man hugged his mother, initially to calm her down. But as he embraced her he got the sense to hold tight, as if she was about to float away. Like his grasp is the only thing keeping her from joining the heavens. 

“Well, agree to disagree!” She said in her sassy tone that the man loved most about her. “Just come back or I’ll go down there and drag your sorry ass up here myself” 

Driving down the road looking at his mother in the rear view depending on her walker just to get herself back inside; the man felt the urge to slam on the brakes. To reverse. To go home. Throw away all of the years of training. Call the operation chief and tell him he’s out. Take care of mama for the rest of her days… He drove on. 

Temperature: -34 degrees
Elevation: 7836 feet
Wind speed: 26 km/hr 
Atmospheric pressure: 674 hPa 
Nearest human being: 572 Kilometres

The man read it, re-read it, again and again. Fighting the fire in the pit of his stomach bringing him to the verge of vomiting. 

Just blame the motion sickness he thought as the pilot radioed the helicopter's coordinates to base camp.

Follow the protocols, they’re there to save you, follow the protocols, they're there to save you, follow the protocols they’re ther…..

“Landing in 5 everyone” the pilot said, shocking the man out of his self-deprecating daze. 

The man has always used reason, he’s a rational man, an intelligent man, a hard working man. The kind of man every mother in the neighborhood compared their sons to. When he graduated mama was gleaming with joy, he didn’t even have to look for her in the crowd, her pride glowed like the blazing bush itself. 

When he told her he wanted to go to the bottom of earth she nearly collapsed. The longing and sorrow she was feeling over her only son’s decision ripping her heart in two. She loved her son more than she wanted her next breath, because of this she knew she could not step in the way of his decision. He had always been a rational man, she knew if he set his mind to something he was going. She wanted him to accomplish his wildest dreams, but this? No she could not step in his way, her son's happiness is what she used to fuel her battle with cancer. He had done so much for her, no she could not step in his way.

Landing at his new home; the frigid air and blinding light of the sun reflecting off the never ending snow being his only welcome party to the location he had spent the majority of his adult life chasing. he watched the helicopter fly off until it was swallowed by the white expanse of frozen nothing surrounding him in all directions. 

McMurdo Station - TEMP Lab 2309

The man stares at the sign welded to the large metal door of the lab. 

The structure the man now called home for the next 3 weeks was no larger than a shipping container. Rations for 3 weeks have been provided as well as a working shower and toilet. The Yankees spare no expense. He thought. His mom used to say he got his Canadian pride from his father, but the man wouldn’t know. 

By the time he was settled in it was midnight, however the sun would not set for another 9 days. Once it does it will not be seen again for six months. 

The work the man does only takes a minute in the day, simply recording the temperature, wind speed, and atmospheric pressure 3 times a day. 

The more pressing job at hand was the constant battle of isolation and inevitability of madness. The man knew where he now found himself is the one place on earth humans were not meant to venture. 

He lay in his bed reading one of the several novels that took up half of the school backpack he was provided for personal items. While he comprehends the words, he does not retain their meaning as he is completely distracted by the howl of the wind against the 1 inch thick glass porthole of the door closer related to a doomsday bunker protecting him from the freezing killing engine that awaits him just feet from where he lays his head. 

For the next week the man did little else, record data and try to ignore the expanse watching over him like a strict parent. His daily routine quickly devolved into reading endless amounts of tales of adventure and drama from the many books accompanying him.

When the inevitable setting of the sun came the man looked out on the expanse. Soaking in the beautiful flame of life one last time. The snow reflecting colours the man never thought the sun could make. The fading blue of the sky and the sheet of white landscape shine in his eye to make a purple halo surrounding the endless expanse. He prays to God's beauty one last time. He will not see it for 6 months. 

Looking out the porthole from his bed not 15 minutes later his mind momentarily races with confusion. Black. Nothing. 

The mix of every colour imaginable that was the sky moments earlier is now a black hole of absolute nothingness he now called his view from his half frosted over porthole window. I have been swallowed. He thinks.

Best not think of that now. He reminds himself rolling over in his cot and waiting for his consciousness to slip. The wind is always higher in the dark, 85 km/hr last he read before going to bed. The rattling metal of the shipping container being his familiar lullaby. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He could have sworn he heard it, through the rattles the sound of a rhythmic knock of someone at his door. Not possible, he thought to himself as he lay facing away from the door with his eyes sprung open. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He flips over and stares directly at the porthole on the door. It offers no assurances, just a black screen of nothing. He checks his computer. Wind speed 83 km/hr temperature -63 degrees.

 If someone was out there they would be screaming at the door. Go to bed.

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He attempts to do so, checking the time he sees it at 3AM. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

The more it happens the more he convinces himself it is not natural. If it was the sensors banging against the hull it wouldn’t be so consistent. 3 small knocks a break of approx 3 seconds and 3 more knocks in intervals of about 20 seconds. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

Opening the door in these conditions was not an option. He must get some rest and look around when the wind dies down. He feared he was already slipping into madness on only his first night in the dark. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

It was not until 2 PM the next day did the wind quiet down enough for a safe walk outside. 11 hours of constant rhythmic knocking, eating away at his sanity like a termite. Getting his military flashlight he gingerly opens the door opening to the black expanse. 

He spends the next few minutes looking at everything attached to the container that could possibly make the knocking noise and finds nothing. Even more puzzling, as soon as he opened the door it stopped. In the few minutes he was out here he had not heard it once. The door was closed. He should be able to hear it but it’s like the knocking has been satisfied by his presence. 

On his way back inside his flashlight slid across the powdered floor and stopped without him even being conscious of it. It’s not possible he repeats in his mind over and over. 

Footprints, much smaller than his massive boots, what look like loafers sit facing the door. Perfectly imprinted in the snow. Shaking the man turns the flashlight to his left and what he sees causes his heart to drop out of his shoes. Hundreds of foot prints, exactly the same shape, all facing the door. 

At these windspeeds the prints would have been covered over in less than 2 minutes. He thought as a growing feeling of being watched rises in his abdomen. 

They just left.

The man is back inside slammed back against the door breathing heavily in less than 4 steps. Sitting on the ground with his back leaning against the door the man’s mind was racing at a million miles an hour. 

If someone was out there why did they just knock? How could they get all the way out here in those shoes? How many are there? Back and forth for what felt like hours. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock.

I didn’t hear that.

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock.

“Hello?” He called out to the door. What is happening to me? Calling out to the abyss genuinely looking for an answer? He thinks to himself.

“Hello sir! May I just have a moment of your time on this lovely afternoon?” A chipper sounding man’s voice comes muffled through the large metal door. 

No no. I’ve gone mad. I’ve lost it. There is no one out there I need to radio base camp for emergency pickup. I cannot be out here for another moment. He tells himself as he lunges up and dives towards the emergency radio to base. 

“No need for that sir!” The voice on the end of the door calls out. The voice on the other end sounds like a well rehearsed script the man has heard many times at the electronics store he worked at as a teenager. 

“McMurdo Station to Lab 2309 requesting emergency evacuation please acknowledge” the man said into the radio while spamming the red emergency button. 

Nothing came through the other end for minutes. The man’s heart felt like it was going to give out. 

“May we have a proper introduction sir?” The voice on the other end of the door asked. “Open the door” 

“Who are you?” The man asked through his rapid breathing.

“That’s not of your immediate concern, is it?” The chipper voice responds.

“What are you?”

Through the wind the man hears the unmistakable sound of crunching snow under a foot. But more alarmingly the sounds seem to repeat, coming from all directions, as if thousands of people took a step forward at the same time. 

“I can be anytime you want me to be.”  It's smug tone taking a sinister tone.

The man stumbles for his rifle resting on the wall. 

“I am armed and you are trespassing on sanctioned American territory.” 

A moment of utter silence follows. Not even the wind made a sound. 

Only for the silence to be shattered by an enormous crash on the north side of the container furthest away from the man. The top corners of the walls heavily indent on the east and west side simultaneously. 

The man slams his back against the wall furthest from the side of the container closing in like a swallowing throat in slow motion. 

Just before the north side of the container is completely sealed the pressure stops. A deafening, disgustingly wet sliding noise is heard as the whole container rocks back, nearly tipping over entirely. The man falls into a ball on the floor and he closes his eyes. 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are wit…

“If you saw a god before you, do you think your prayers will save you?” 

The man’s crack opened as the hellish sound of this beast's grasp on the ceiling above him. The man stares in dread as the corners of the ceiling above him begin to cave in. 

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all o…

The man sobs, clutching his rifle like he was back in his momma's arms. Just before the man cannot hear at all the beast speaks in his mothers voice. 

“It's dumber than hell.” 

“It’s dumber than hell!”

Momma shouted from the porch as the man finished packing up his car in the drive. 

“All those years in school and thousands of dollars spent just to send my son to the bottom of hell just to tell us it’s cold!” She croaked and as he walked closer. 

“There’s a bit more that goes into it mama.” He replied as he walked up the porch. 

The man hugged his mother, initially to calm her down. But as he embraced her he got the sense to hold tight, as if she was about to float away. Like his grasp is the only thing keeping her from joining the heavens. 

“Well, agree to disagree!” She said in her sassy tone that the man loved most about her. “Just come back or I’ll go down there and drag your sorry ass up here myself” 

Driving down the road looking at his mother in the rear view depending on her walker just to get herself back inside; the man felt the urge to slam on the brakes. To reverse. To go home. Throw away all of the years of training. Call the operation chief and tell him he’s out. Take care of mama for the rest of her days… He drove on. 

Temperature: -34 degrees
Elevation: 7836 feet
Wind speed: 26 km/hr 
Atmospheric pressure: 674 hPa 
Nearest human being: 572 Kilometres

The man read it, re-read it, again and again. Fighting the fire in the pit of his stomach bringing him to the verge of vomiting. 

Just blame the motion sickness he thought as the pilot radioed the helicopter's coordinates to base camp.

Follow the protocols, they’re there to save you, follow the protocols, they're there to save you, follow the protocols they’re ther…..

“Landing in 5 everyone” the pilot said, shocking the man out of his self-deprecating daze. 

The man has always used reason, he’s a rational man, an intelligent man, a hard working man. The kind of man every mother in the neighborhood compared their sons to. When he graduated mama was gleaming with joy, he didn’t even have to look for her in the crowd, her pride glowed like the blazing bush itself. 

When he told her he wanted to go to the bottom of earth she nearly collapsed. The longing and sorrow she was feeling over her only son’s decision ripping her heart in two. She loved her son more than she wanted her next breath, because of this she knew she could not step in the way of his decision. He had always been a rational man, she knew if he set his mind to something he was going. She wanted him to accomplish his wildest dreams, but this? No she could not step in his way, her son's happiness is what she used to fuel her battle with cancer. He had done so much for her, no she could not step in his way.

Landing at his new home; the frigid air and blinding light of the sun reflecting off the never ending snow being his only welcome party to the location he had spent the majority of his adult life chasing. he watched the helicopter fly off until it was swallowed by the white expanse of frozen nothing surrounding him in all directions. 

McMurdo Station - TEMP Lab 2309

The man stares at the sign welded to the large metal door of the lab. 

The structure the man now called home for the next 3 weeks was no larger than a shipping container. Rations for 3 weeks have been provided as well as a working shower and toilet. The Yankees spare no expense. He thought. His mom used to say he got his Canadian pride from his father, but the man wouldn’t know. 

By the time he was settled in it was midnight, however the sun would not set for another 9 days. Once it does it will not be seen again for six months. 

The work the man does only takes a minute in the day, simply recording the temperature, wind speed, and atmospheric pressure 3 times a day. 

The more pressing job at hand was the constant battle of isolation and inevitability of madness. The man knew where he now found himself is the one place on earth humans were not meant to venture. 

He lay in his bed reading one of the several novels that took up half of the school backpack he was provided for personal items. While he comprehends the words, he does not retain their meaning as he is completely distracted by the howl of the wind against the 1 inch thick glass porthole of the door closer related to a doomsday bunker protecting him from the freezing killing engine that awaits him just feet from where he lays his head. 

For the next week the man did little else, record data and try to ignore the expanse watching over him like a strict parent. His daily routine quickly devolved into reading endless amounts of tales of adventure and drama from the many books accompanying him.

When the inevitable setting of the sun came the man looked out on the expanse. Soaking in the beautiful flame of life one last time. The snow reflecting colours the man never thought the sun could make. The fading blue of the sky and the sheet of white landscape shine in his eye to make a purple halo surrounding the endless expanse. He prays to God's beauty one last time. He will not see it for 6 months. 

Looking out the porthole from his bed not 15 minutes later his mind momentarily races with confusion. Black. Nothing. 

The mix of every colour imaginable that was the sky moments earlier is now a black hole of absolute nothingness he now called his view from his half frosted over porthole window. I have been swallowed. He thinks.

Best not think of that now. He reminds himself rolling over in his cot and waiting for his consciousness to slip. The wind is always higher in the dark, 85 km/hr last he read before going to bed. The rattling metal of the shipping container being his familiar lullaby. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He could have sworn he heard it, through the rattles the sound of a rhythmic knock of someone at his door. Not possible, he thought to himself as he lay facing away from the door with his eyes sprung open. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He flips over and stares directly at the porthole on the door. It offers no assurances, just a black screen of nothing. He checks his computer. Wind speed 83 km/hr temperature -63 degrees.

 If someone was out there they would be screaming at the door. Go to bed.

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He attempts to do so, checking the time he sees it at 3AM. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

The more it happens the more he convinces himself it is not natural. If it was the sensors banging against the hull it wouldn’t be so consistent. 3 small knocks a break of approx 3 seconds and 3 more knocks in intervals of about 20 seconds. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

Opening the door in these conditions was not an option. He must get some rest and look around when the wind dies down. He feared he was already slipping into madness on only his first night in the dark. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

It was not until 2 PM the next day did the wind quiet down enough for a safe walk outside. 11 hours of constant rhythmic knocking, eating away at his sanity like a termite. Getting his military flashlight he gingerly opens the door opening to the black expanse. 

He spends the next few minutes looking at everything attached to the container that could possibly make the knocking noise and finds nothing. Even more puzzling, as soon as he opened the door it stopped. In the few minutes he was out here he had not heard it once. The door was closed. He should be able to hear it but it’s like the knocking has been satisfied by his presence. 

On his way back inside his flashlight slid across the powdered floor and stopped without him even being conscious of it. It’s not possible he repeats in his mind over and over. 

Footprints, much smaller than his massive boots, what look like loafers sit facing the door. Perfectly imprinted in the snow. Shaking the man turns the flashlight to his left and what he sees causes his heart to drop out of his shoes. Hundreds of foot prints, exactly the same shape, all facing the door. 

At these windspeeds the prints would have been covered over in less than 2 minutes. He thought as a growing feeling of being watched rises in his abdomen. 

They just left.

The man is back inside slammed back against the door breathing heavily in less than 4 steps. Sitting on the ground with his back leaning against the door the man’s mind was racing at a million miles an hour. 

If someone was out there why did they just knock? How could they get all the way out here in those shoes? How many are there? Back and forth for what felt like hours. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock.

I didn’t hear that.

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock.

“Hello?” He called out to the door. What is happening to me? Calling out to the abyss genuinely looking for an answer? He thinks to himself.

“Hello sir! May I just have a moment of your time on this lovely afternoon?” A chipper sounding man’s voice comes muffled through the large metal door. 

No no. I’ve gone mad. I’ve lost it. There is no one out there I need to radio base camp for emergency pickup. I cannot be out here for another moment. He tells himself as he lunges up and dives towards the emergency radio to base. 

“No need for that sir!” The voice on the end of the door calls out. The voice on the other end sounds like a well rehearsed script the man has heard many times at the electronics store he worked at as a teenager. 

“McMurdo Station to Lab 2309 requesting emergency evacuation please acknowledge” the man said into the radio while spamming the red emergency button. 

Nothing came through the other end for minutes. The man’s heart felt like it was going to give out. 

“May we have a proper introduction sir?” The voice on the other end of the door asked. “Open the door” 

“Who are you?” The man asked through his rapid breathing.

“That’s not of your immediate concern, is it?” The chipper voice responds.

“What are you?”

Through the wind the man hears the unmistakable sound of crunching snow under a foot. But more alarmingly the sounds seem to repeat, coming from all directions, as if thousands of people took a step forward at the same time. 

“I can be anytime you want me to be.”  It's smug tone taking a sinister tone.

The man stumbles for his rifle resting on the wall. 

“I am armed and you are trespassing on sanctioned American territory.” 

A moment of utter silence follows. Not even the wind made a sound. 

Only for the silence to be shattered by an enormous crash on the north side of the container furthest away from the man. The top corners of the walls heavily indent on the east and west side simultaneously. 

The man slams his back against the wall furthest from the side of the container closing in like a swallowing throat in slow motion. 

Just before the north side of the container is completely sealed the pressure stops. A deafening, disgustingly wet sliding noise is heard as the whole container rocks back, nearly tipping over entirely. The man falls into a ball on the floor and he closes his eyes. 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are wit…

“If you saw a god before you, do you think your prayers will save you?” 

The man’s crack opened as the hellish sound of this beast's grasp on the ceiling above him. The man stares in dread as the corners of the ceiling above him begin to cave in. 

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all o…

The man sobs, clutching his rifle like he was back in his momma's arms. Just before the man cannot hear at all the beast speaks in his mothers voice. 

“It's dumber than hell.”

“It’s dumber than hell!”

Momma shouted from the porch as the man finished packing up his car in the drive. 

“All those years in school and thousands of dollars spent just to send my son to the bottom of hell just to tell us it’s cold!” She croaked and as he walked closer. 

“There’s a bit more that goes into it mama.” He replied as he walked up the porch. 

The man hugged his mother, initially to calm her down. But as he embraced her he got the sense to hold tight, as if she was about to float away. Like his grasp is the only thing keeping her from joining the heavens. 

“Well, agree to disagree!” She said in her sassy tone that the man loved most about her. “Just come back or I’ll go down there and drag your sorry ass up here myself” 

Driving down the road looking at his mother in the rear view depending on her walker just to get herself back inside; the man felt the urge to slam on the brakes. To reverse. To go home. Throw away all of the years of training. Call the operation chief and tell him he’s out. Take care of mama for the rest of her days… He drove on. 

Temperature: -34 degrees
Elevation: 7836 feet
Wind speed: 26 km/hr 
Atmospheric pressure: 674 hPa 
Nearest human being: 572 Kilometres

The man read it, re-read it, again and again. Fighting the fire in the pit of his stomach bringing him to the verge of vomiting. 

Just blame the motion sickness he thought as the pilot radioed the helicopter's coordinates to base camp.

Follow the protocols, they’re there to save you, follow the protocols, they're there to save you, follow the protocols they’re ther…..

“Landing in 5 everyone” the pilot said, shocking the man out of his self-deprecating daze. 

The man has always used reason, he’s a rational man, an intelligent man, a hard working man. The kind of man every mother in the neighborhood compared their sons to. When he graduated mama was gleaming with joy, he didn’t even have to look for her in the crowd, her pride glowed like the blazing bush itself. 

When he told her he wanted to go to the bottom of earth she nearly collapsed. The longing and sorrow she was feeling over her only son’s decision ripping her heart in two. She loved her son more than she wanted her next breath, because of this she knew she could not step in the way of his decision. He had always been a rational man, she knew if he set his mind to something he was going. She wanted him to accomplish his wildest dreams, but this? No she could not step in his way, her son's happiness is what she used to fuel her battle with cancer. He had done so much for her, no she could not step in his way.

Landing at his new home; the frigid air and blinding light of the sun reflecting off the never ending snow being his only welcome party to the location he had spent the majority of his adult life chasing. he watched the helicopter fly off until it was swallowed by the white expanse of frozen nothing surrounding him in all directions. 

McMurdo Station - TEMP Lab 2309

The man stares at the sign welded to the large metal door of the lab. 

The structure the man now called home for the next 3 weeks was no larger than a shipping container. Rations for 3 weeks have been provided as well as a working shower and toilet. The Yankees spare no expense. He thought. His mom used to say he got his Canadian pride from his father, but the man wouldn’t know. 

By the time he was settled in it was midnight, however the sun would not set for another 9 days. Once it does it will not be seen again for six months. 

The work the man does only takes a minute in the day, simply recording the temperature, wind speed, and atmospheric pressure 3 times a day. 

The more pressing job at hand was the constant battle of isolation and inevitability of madness. The man knew where he now found himself is the one place on earth humans were not meant to venture. 

He lay in his bed reading one of the several novels that took up half of the school backpack he was provided for personal items. While he comprehends the words, he does not retain their meaning as he is completely distracted by the howl of the wind against the 1 inch thick glass porthole of the door closer related to a doomsday bunker protecting him from the freezing killing engine that awaits him just feet from where he lays his head. 

For the next week the man did little else, record data and try to ignore the expanse watching over him like a strict parent. His daily routine quickly devolved into reading endless amounts of tales of adventure and drama from the many books accompanying him.

When the inevitable setting of the sun came the man looked out on the expanse. Soaking in the beautiful flame of life one last time. The snow reflecting colours the man never thought the sun could make. The fading blue of the sky and the sheet of white landscape shine in his eye to make a purple halo surrounding the endless expanse. He prays to God's beauty one last time. He will not see it for 6 months. 

Looking out the porthole from his bed not 15 minutes later his mind momentarily races with confusion. Black. Nothing. 

The mix of every colour imaginable that was the sky moments earlier is now a black hole of absolute nothingness he now called his view from his half frosted over porthole window. I have been swallowed. He thinks.

Best not think of that now. He reminds himself rolling over in his cot and waiting for his consciousness to slip. The wind is always higher in the dark, 85 km/hr last he read before going to bed. The rattling metal of the shipping container being his familiar lullaby. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He could have sworn he heard it, through the rattles the sound of a rhythmic knock of someone at his door. Not possible, he thought to himself as he lay facing away from the door with his eyes sprung open. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He flips over and stares directly at the porthole on the door. It offers no assurances, just a black screen of nothing. He checks his computer. Wind speed 83 km/hr temperature -63 degrees.

 If someone was out there they would be screaming at the door. Go to bed.

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

He attempts to do so, checking the time he sees it at 3AM. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

The more it happens the more he convinces himself it is not natural. If it was the sensors banging against the hull it wouldn’t be so consistent. 3 small knocks a break of approx 3 seconds and 3 more knocks in intervals of about 20 seconds. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

Opening the door in these conditions was not an option. He must get some rest and look around when the wind dies down. He feared he was already slipping into madness on only his first night in the dark. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock. 

It was not until 2 PM the next day did the wind quiet down enough for a safe walk outside. 11 hours of constant rhythmic knocking, eating away at his sanity like a termite. Getting his military flashlight he gingerly opens the door opening to the black expanse. 

He spends the next few minutes looking at everything attached to the container that could possibly make the knocking noise and finds nothing. Even more puzzling, as soon as he opened the door it stopped. In the few minutes he was out here he had not heard it once. The door was closed. He should be able to hear it but it’s like the knocking has been satisfied by his presence. 

On his way back inside his flashlight slid across the powdered floor and stopped without him even being conscious of it. It’s not possible he repeats in his mind over and over. 

Footprints, much smaller than his massive boots, what look like loafers sit facing the door. Perfectly imprinted in the snow. Shaking the man turns the flashlight to his left and what he sees causes his heart to drop out of his shoes. Hundreds of foot prints, exactly the same shape, all facing the door. 

At these windspeeds the prints would have been covered over in less than 2 minutes. He thought as a growing feeling of being watched rises in his abdomen. 

They just left.

The man is back inside slammed back against the door breathing heavily in less than 4 steps. Sitting on the ground with his back leaning against the door the man’s mind was racing at a million miles an hour. 

If someone was out there why did they just knock? How could they get all the way out here in those shoes? How many are there? Back and forth for what felt like hours. 

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock.

I didn’t hear that.

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock.

“Hello?” He called out to the door. What is happening to me? Calling out to the abyss genuinely looking for an answer? He thinks to himself.

“Hello sir! May I just have a moment of your time on this lovely afternoon?” A chipper sounding man’s voice comes muffled through the large metal door. 

No no. I’ve gone mad. I’ve lost it. There is no one out there I need to radio base camp for emergency pickup. I cannot be out here for another moment. He tells himself as he lunges up and dives towards the emergency radio to base. 

“No need for that sir!” The voice on the end of the door calls out. The voice on the other end sounds like a well rehearsed script the man has heard many times at the electronics store he worked at as a teenager. 

“McMurdo Station to Lab 2309 requesting emergency evacuation please acknowledge” the man said into the radio while spamming the red emergency button. 

Nothing came through the other end for minutes. The man’s heart felt like it was going to give out. 

“May we have a proper introduction sir?” The voice on the other end of the door asked. “Open the door” 

“Who are you?” The man asked through his rapid breathing.

“That’s not of your immediate concern, is it?” The chipper voice responds.

“What are you?”

Through the wind the man hears the unmistakable sound of crunching snow under a foot. But more alarmingly the sounds seem to repeat, coming from all directions, as if thousands of people took a step forward at the same time. 

“I can be anytime you want me to be.”  It's smug tone taking a sinister tone.

The man stumbles for his rifle resting on the wall. 

“I am armed and you are trespassing on sanctioned American territory.” 

A moment of utter silence follows. Not even the wind made a sound. 

Only for the silence to be shattered by an enormous crash on the north side of the container furthest away from the man. The top corners of the walls heavily indent on the east and west side simultaneously. 

The man slams his back against the wall furthest from the side of the container closing in like a swallowing throat in slow motion. 

Just before the north side of the container is completely sealed the pressure stops. A deafening, disgustingly wet sliding noise is heard as the whole container rocks back, nearly tipping over entirely. The man falls into a ball on the floor and he closes his eyes. 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are wit…

“If you saw a god before you, do you think your prayers will save you?” 

The man’s crack opened as the hellish sound of this beast's grasp on the ceiling above him. The man stares in dread as the corners of the ceiling above him begin to cave in. 

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all o…

The man sobs, clutching his rifle like he was back in his momma's arms. Just before the man cannot hear at all the beast speaks in his mothers voice. 

“It's dumber than hell.”