Snowblind. Margaret Haffner

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the answers the companies wanted, particularly about things like environmental impact, they were happy to pay him.’

      ‘That would make him really popular with Joan,’ Simon commented.

      ‘You’re not kidding. Joan is a rabid environmentalist, very unrealistic at times, and a pain in the neck, but I prefer her extreme stand to Phillip’s mercenary soul.’ She gasped guiltily. ‘Why am I saying these things? The man is dead.’

      ‘Probably,’ Simon agreed calmly, ‘but that doesn’t change what he was in life.’

      But Anne, upset with herself, scrambled to her feet. ‘Let’s get to work.’

      Joan was not easily defeated, but she had met her match in Wally Gingras. No amount of coaxing, reasoning or threatening would get him to help her. ‘Wally, why? I won’t hurt anything. I could get my samples after all your measurements have been taken. All you’d need to do is give me a photocopy of your rough notes for that particular patch of shit.’

      ‘I work alone. I do not collaborate, I already told you that yesterday.’

      ‘Wally …’

      ‘No! That’s final. Go away.’ Wally turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving Joan to fume helplessly.

      She kicked at a clump of reindeer moss. Bastard. How the hell was she to get her research finished this year if Wally wouldn’t cooperate? If she’d just stuck to the narrow academic road she would’ve been finished long ago. But with most of her time spent working for Greenpeace and Environment Now her doctorate was taking longer than the usual four or five years. And all she got for thanks was a police record for a failed attempt to set fire to a fur warehouse.

      Joan held a pointed finger in the air towards Wally’s disappearing back. ‘You won’t stop me, you old fart,’ she muttered under her breath.

      ‘That’s not very nice.’

      Joan started in surprise and then twisted to face Viola.

      ‘So? Neither is he,’ Joan sneered.

      ‘He has his reasons,’ Viola replied.

      ‘He’s not the only one who’s had a bad break in life … The rest of us manage to remain civilized.’ Joan stalked away.

      ‘Not so as you’d notice,’ Viola murmured as she headed out of camp.

      Using a heavy mallet, Simon attempted to drive a metal pole into the ground at the edge of a small pond. Sweat flowed freely even in the chill air and progress was slow as he fought his way inch by inch through the permafrost. Gingerly he tested the pole. A gentle shove failed to dislodge it but Simon had no doubt an energetic lemming could tip the post with moderate effort. Wiping the perspiration from his forehead, he cast around for some rocks to anchor the pole. This was only their second pond and already it was four in the afternoon.

      Anne was busy stringing a fine mesh between the other pair of poles but, judging by the exclamations erupting from her vicinity, her task wasn’t much easier.

      ‘Are you sure all this is required?’ Simon asked with a grunt as he heaved a large rock out of the water.

      Anne rushed over to peer into the water with a worried frown. ‘Don’t do that. You mustn’t disturb the pond any more than is absolutely necessary.’

      ‘All I did was remove a rock! You’ve been walking through it!’ Simon protested indignantly.

      ‘Yes, you’re right, but I had to. Aren’t there any rocks on shore?’

      ‘They’re not very handy,’ Simon replied shortly.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Anne cried, immediately contrite. ‘I don’t mean to criticize, I really appreciate your help. Let me find you some rocks.’

      ‘It’s OK, I’ll do this. You just finish with that net so we can get out of here.’

      ‘Thanks.’ Anne smiled her breathtaking smile. It almost made the labour worth while, Simon decided.

      They finished their tasks and then stood back to admire their handiwork.

      ‘Now what happens?’ Simon asked.

      ‘Well, for this particular pond I’m going to remove all the zooplankton from one side and see if the population of phytoplankton increases when the grazing pressure is diminished.’

      ‘In English?’

      Anne laughed. ‘Too technical? OK. Let’s see … With a sampling net I’m going to remove as many of the microscopic animals as possible from one side of the pond. The mesh we’ve just installed will keep the animals from the other side from moving in. Then in six weeks I’ll sample both sides of the pond to see how many microscopic plants are present. The theory is that the side with no plant-eaters will have a higher population of plants. Clear?’

      ‘Yes, except we’ve sectioned this pond into three areas, not two.’

      ‘Good point. Into the third area I’m going to add the animals I’ve removed from the first section. This should lower the plant population below that in the control area.’

      ‘Let me know how it turns out,’ Simon commented.

      ‘You won’t be here then, will you?’

      ‘No. I’m leaving after just four weeks in this vacationer’s paradise. Some other poor sucker is taking my place.’

      Anne came over to stand by Simon and they both stared at the scene in front of them: the grey-purple tundra, the endless blue of the sky and the utter transparency of the pond in which the entire world was repeated, upside down, in perfect detail.

      ‘You don’t like it here?’ Anne laid a small hand tentatively on his forearm. Simon imagined he could feel the tingle of each fingertip even through his down jacket.

      ‘Of course I like it. I love it, if you must know,’ Simon said. ‘In just a few days Polar Bear Pass has got into my blood. It’s beautiful … awesome … quiet, pure.’ The last words hung in the crystal air. Again Simon’s thoughts were pulled inexorably towards the missing man. If you had to die, it was a wonderful place to spend eternity.

      ‘Yes, it’s all of that,’ Anne breathed, sharing his emotion. ‘I’ve come to the arctic every year since I started my master’s degree and I’m still awestruck each time. My only regret is that I have to travel with such a motley assortment of people—they intrude on this perfection.’

      ‘Well, excuse me!’ Simon exclaimed in mock indignation.

      ‘You know I don’t mean you. I’m talking about Joan, or Wally, or even Eric.’

      ‘I can understand your objections to the first two, but Eric Karnot? I thought he was the quintessential scientist and nature-lover.’

      ‘In more ways than you might expect,’ Anne retorted with feeling. ‘Remember the behaviour you were suspecting Phillip of? His stepfather was the problem, still is the problem, as far as I’m concerned. Around the university he has a reputation as a real lecher. He can’t keep

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