But to me…" The scientist pointed to the wall above his desk. It was papered with pictures of himself with a stream of celebrities: visiting congressmen, presidential science advisors, adventurers, network anchors, movie stars, foreign dignitaries. Mickey Moss as polar landlord. "It's not American land. Not American ice. It's nobody's ice, except the people willing to come down here and pioneer it."
"And you pioneered it."
"Exactly."
"But at government expense, right?"
"At personal sacrifice!" Moss took a breath. "Listen, young man, I know I look like an old egghead to you, sitting here in my warm office, surrounded by vinyl and plastic. But I was doing science down here when you were sucking at your mother's tit. I was doing science when we slept in plywood barracks and ate out of tin cans and didn't get a letter or a radio call for months at a time. I did science until I was frostbitten so bad that when I came back inside it felt like my face was being held to a hot iron."
"I understand."
"No, you don't. You can't. No one can who didn't do it. And I gave the testimony that helped build this building. I dragged the Washington bureaucrats down here kicking and screaming and got them to see that this place-this godforsaken place- was the best place for certain kinds of science in the entire world. The Pole was the ringside seat when that comet plowed into Jupiter in 1994. It's going to help us remap the universe, decipher our magnetic field, understand our atmosphere. We've got telescopes out in the snow that can see in half a dozen ways the human eye is blind to. Because for half the year the sun never sets and for the other half we have a constant dark sky. Because I, Mickey Moss, showed them the way."
"I think everyone respects that."
"Do they?"
"Sure."
"I used to think respect was enough." He sat down, looking at the rock.
"They'll probably name something for you."
"When I'm dead." He picked up the meteorite. "They scoff at me now, you know. Geezer Mouse. Don't think I don't know."
"They're jealous. Academic rivalry."
"They don't understand my project has to have priority. Priority! To justify the Pole. To justify the new South Pole station."
Lewis waited.
"I'm just saying that I've paid my dues."
"I'm not arguing, Doctor Moss."
The scientist turned the meteorite over in his hands. "I've made no decisions," he said softly. "It's just that I'm getting old. I had to fudge my medical exam to get down here last time. I don't have endless time anymore. I haven't put a lot away. My family…" He glanced up. "Are you surprised to find me human, Lewis?"
"No." Lewis shifted uncomfortably. He was surprised, actually. It didn't fit his stereotype of a grand old man of science. "It's just that Jim Sparco wanted a rough evaluation. He didn't talk about keeping it."
"Nor have I! Nor have I." He looked at Lewis warily. "Don't jump to conclusions. Don't start rumors that aren't true. I've got a reputation, and in the end a reputation is all a scientist has. Thirty years in this place, and that's all I have. And then at the end a missive from space, a stroke of luck… Why?"
Lewis couldn't answer.
"Well. The first step was to get your opinion, correct? Now we've got some thinking to do. What's best? What's right? What's fair? That's always the question, isn't it?"
"The unanswerable one, sometimes."
"Yet you must choose an answer." Moss stood and put the rock back in his filing cabinet. "The funny thing is, there're almost no locks on this base. That's why you can't breathe a word of this to anyone."
"Don't you want to kick this around with the other scientists?"
"No." He looked depressed. "Word would leak, misinterpretations would be made. They're jealous, like you said. They'd use this against me."
"I could be wrong about the meteorite, you know."
"I understand that."
"It really needs some tests."
"Of course. But in the meantime I'm going to put this where others won't find it." He looked intently at the
"And you pioneered it."
"Exactly."
"But at government expense, right?"
"At personal sacrifice!" Moss took a breath. "Listen, young man, I know I look like an old egghead to you, sitting here in my warm office, surrounded by vinyl and plastic. But I was doing science down here when you were sucking at your mother's tit. I was doing science when we slept in plywood barracks and ate out of tin cans and didn't get a letter or a radio call for months at a time. I did science until I was frostbitten so bad that when I came back inside it felt like my face was being held to a hot iron."
"I understand."
"No, you don't. You can't. No one can who didn't do it. And I gave the testimony that helped build this building. I dragged the Washington bureaucrats down here kicking and screaming and got them to see that this place-this godforsaken place- was the best place for certain kinds of science in the entire world. The Pole was the ringside seat when that comet plowed into Jupiter in 1994. It's going to help us remap the universe, decipher our magnetic field, understand our atmosphere. We've got telescopes out in the snow that can see in half a dozen ways the human eye is blind to. Because for half the year the sun never sets and for the other half we have a constant dark sky. Because I, Mickey Moss, showed them the way."
"I think everyone respects that."
"Do they?"
"Sure."
"I used to think respect was enough." He sat down, looking at the rock.
"They'll probably name something for you."
"When I'm dead." He picked up the meteorite. "They scoff at me now, you know. Geezer Mouse. Don't think I don't know."
"They're jealous. Academic rivalry."
"They don't understand my project has to have priority. Priority! To justify the Pole. To justify the new South Pole station."
Lewis waited.
"I'm just saying that I've paid my dues."
"I'm not arguing, Doctor Moss."
The scientist turned the meteorite over in his hands. "I've made no decisions," he said softly. "It's just that I'm getting old. I had to fudge my medical exam to get down here last time. I don't have endless time anymore. I haven't put a lot away. My family…" He glanced up. "Are you surprised to find me human, Lewis?"
"No." Lewis shifted uncomfortably. He was surprised, actually. It didn't fit his stereotype of a grand old man of science. "It's just that Jim Sparco wanted a rough evaluation. He didn't talk about keeping it."
"Nor have I! Nor have I." He looked at Lewis warily. "Don't jump to conclusions. Don't start rumors that aren't true. I've got a reputation, and in the end a reputation is all a scientist has. Thirty years in this place, and that's all I have. And then at the end a missive from space, a stroke of luck… Why?"
Lewis couldn't answer.
"Well. The first step was to get your opinion, correct? Now we've got some thinking to do. What's best? What's right? What's fair? That's always the question, isn't it?"
"The unanswerable one, sometimes."
"Yet you must choose an answer." Moss stood and put the rock back in his filing cabinet. "The funny thing is, there're almost no locks on this base. That's why you can't breathe a word of this to anyone."
"Don't you want to kick this around with the other scientists?"
"No." He looked depressed. "Word would leak, misinterpretations would be made. They're jealous, like you said. They'd use this against me."
"I could be wrong about the meteorite, you know."
"I understand that."
"It really needs some tests."
"Of course. But in the meantime I'm going to put this where others won't find it." He looked intently at the
Similar Books
