4

July 19, 2025
11:14 p.m.
Antarctica

He blinked the sawdust out of his eyes. “Don’t touch the cables!” he shouted up the scaffolding.

Smirk looked down at him with his trademark crooked smile. “Don’t worry, doc, I’m almost done.”

After over a month living in the Antarctic Circle, Silberman was actually beginning to recognize Smirk’s expressions. He clocked this one as “slightly annoyed.”

“How much longer?”

“Keep your pants on, man, it’ll be ready soon.” Smirk’s “slightly annoyed” expression turned into a “more than slightly annoyed” expression. “I swear, you’re like a kid sometimes.”

Silberman chuckled. “I’m just passionate, that’s all.”

“I guess that’s one word for it.” Smirk finished up his work and pulled off his gloves. “There. What did I say?”

“You said it would be done soon.”

“I said it would be done soon,” he chided, gesturing at the repaired platform with sardonic panache.

“Thank you,” Silberman sighed.

The reconstruction had been an arduous process. Now that the last piece was ready, they would finally be able to run another test. He walked over to the doorway and shouted down the hall. “Emery! Phillips! Wilkins! We’re ready.”

His team emerged with hesitant enthusiasm, carefully making their way into the lab.

“This better not be like last time,” Phillips warned, stealing a quick glance at his slinged arm before averting her eyes. “I would hate for another dog to die because of us.”

Emery pat her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Julia. Our new compression algorithm is deeply robust. We’ve run it through Sam’s enhanced simulations hundreds of times.” She beamed at Wilkins proudly. “Isn’t that right, Sam?”

Wilkins gave a nod and an uneasy smile. “Sure.”

“He may not be confident, but I really think it will work this time.” She clasped her hands together. “Are we all set?”

Silberman nodded. “Smirk just finished fixing up the scaffolding.” He chuckled in spite of himself. “It’s double reinforced this time, so hopefully there won’t be another mishap.”

Phillips looked at him pleadingly. “You don’t have to do this, Dr. Silberman. Your arm is just starting to feel better. We can find someone else to run your component.”

He laughed. “You know I have to do this. Besides, it’ll be nice to see some action. And who knows, maybe it’ll actually warm things up a bit in here!”

“I hope so,” said Emery. Her eyes gleamed with an uncharacteristic hint of hysteria. “All this cold and darkness has been less than ideal for me, mentally.”

The team nodded in agreement. This had not been the optimal situation for anyone, least of all Silberman. He hated the cold, and frigidity permeated every inch of this building. Every inch of this entire continent. That, combined with total isolation and complete lack of sunlight, added up to a pretty rough month-and-a-half. He was happy to break the routine.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” He dashed away and climbed the wooden stairs to his post, taking them two steps at a time. The rest of the group headed toward their stations. He watched Phillips traipse over to the animal crate, stopping to pet Wilbur before reaching in and grabbing one of the dogs.

“Make sure to pick one with a strong constitution!” he shouted down to her. He knew it shouldn’t make a difference, but perhaps a heartier canine would be more likely to survive the transfer. She raised a half-hearted thumbs-up, still clearly apprehensive about the entire endeavor. Maybe she was right to be apprehensive, but he hardly cared. The disastrous first run had delayed their schedule enough already. They had no time for unnecessary precaution.

Phillips finished wrapping up the new test subject as Emery and Wilkins took their places. Silberman called out the checks and confirmed that everything was ready to go. He looked down at the little red button glimmering on the dashboard, illuminated like an arcade cabinet control.

“Alright, here we go. Set!” He grazed the cold plastic with the tip of his finger and counted to three. His mind racing, he hesitated for a millisecond before pressing down and hearing the satisfying click. “Execute!”

This time, the gears began to turn almost immediately. The metal rose and fell, clashing and cascading in a cacophonous symphony that shook the platform under his feet. It seemed stable enough, but he clung to the railing with white knuckles all the same. The dissonant clunking quickened, eventually morphing into a low warble, one deep note slowly creeping upward in pitch. As the mechanical moan continued, he noticed a blazing speck of light rising from the ground below, reflecting off every surface in the room. His grip loosened as he watched it, transfixed by its magnificent sheen. It expanded, faster and faster, until finally it exploded and bathed the entire warehouse in its glow. A kaleidoscope of colors erupted from the bright center, completely immersing every inch of the space in the full spectrum of chromaticity.

Basking in its warmth, he felt something he had not felt since the years of his youth; pure awareness. He only existed in the present moment, but in that moment, he understood the presence of all time and space, understood his tiny place in the grand sweeping vastness of all existence. The light transported him to a place within himself he had forgotten, a place he had abandoned. He watched his life flash through the whirling churn of luminescence, all of it at once, and felt completely at peace. He felt relaxed for the first time since they had come to this frozen wasteland. He sunk into the feeling as much as he could before the phosphorescence faded, leaving him with the cold reality of temporally limited perception.

He was so lost in the afterglow that he had forgotten about the experiment. All of it came rushing back to him in a whirlwind, tearing him from his trance as he gulped the frosty air.

“Well?!” he barked, forgetting the clearing protocol. He twisted to look at Wilkins, who was mouthing something. Silberman cupped a hand around his ear. “What? I can’t hear you!”

Wilkins spoke up timidly. “You’re supposed to say ‘Clear.’”

“Oh, right.” He gathered himself, shaking off the remnants of his near-catatonic state. “1A, Clear.”

“1B, Clear.”

“2A, Clear.”

“2B, Clear!”

He had learned to moderate his excitement, but he knew at the very least that this run had been more successful than the last. He flew down the stairs to observe the results for himself. As he reached the output platform, he saw the large mutt struggling to get out of the plastic, whimpering in fear. The dog looked a little shaken up, but it was alive.

“I knew it would work,” he said with a smug smile.

Emery glared at him. “You know we don’t know if it worked yet.” She sighed, a pinch of optimism creeping into her expression. “I suppose it looks pretty good though.”

Wilkins joined them, breathing heavily from his trek down the stairs. He exhaled with relief as he saw that everything was still intact. Phillips was with the pup, petting her through the plastic, attempting to soothe her with soft whispers. Silberman knew they had to wait before removing the wrapping, but he was sure the measurements would meet specifications.

“Team, we’ve done it again.” He beamed at them.

“Our expedition appears to have paid off,” said Phillips, still holding the shivering cur in its transparent shroud.

“We can’t celebrate yet though. The real test will be something that has a brain a little more complex than a canine’s.”

Emery chuckled. “You know we have a long way to go before we’re ready for that.”

“Perhaps. Theoretically, there’s no reason a human couldn’t survive at this point.”

Phillips scoffed at the suggestion. “That may be true theoretically, but from a practical perspective, we are nowhere near being cleared for human trials. Sure, a couple of animals came out okay, but we know nothing about the long-term side effects.”

“That dog must weigh as much as me. It’s the same amount of matter, and look at her, she’s fine!” Silberman walked over and pat the shaking animal on her head, beaming brightly.

“Julia’s right, Dr. Silberman,” said Wilkins, staring ahead blankly. “We know a lot about the elementary structure of matter, but we don’t know everything. We don’t know how our synthesized material could deteriorate with time.”

Silberman furrowed his brow. “We know enough. We know everything down to the quantum level!”

Emery placed her hand gently on his shoulder. “William, listen. There’s so much we have yet to learn. I have to dig deeper... I’m worried there’s something we’re missing. We will get there eventually, but we need more time.”

Silberman sighed, realizing he was outnumbered. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I just got a little carried away, that’s all. You’re right. It’s not worth risking the survival of the project just to speed things up a bit. We will get there eventually.”

He smiled at the team and produced a large glass bottle from his desk drawer. “Until then, does anyone want to revel in the marvelous victory we achieved tonight?”

“Well... I guess one won’t hurt,” said Phillips. He poured her a cup. “Anyone else?”

Wilkins chuckled. “Gotta keep warm somehow, right?” He grabbed the bottle and helped himself to a sizable serving.

Emery approached him last, reluctantly inching her way toward him. “We did do a good job today.” She took a cup and held it up for him to fill. He tilted the bottle, grinning widely as he poured. “We sure did.”

The team drank and talked and laughed, the first truly joyful occasion of their residence in the Antarctic Circle. When the measurements were complete, they pulled the dog from the plastic and hugged her, rejoicing at her survival. The forever-night slipped into more forever-night as the hands on Silberman’s watch raced around and around. Eventually, their heads spun and their words slurred and their eyelids drooped as they fell into the nest of blissful exhaustion. The night-day had been a long one, and they were happy to wander drunkenly to their sleeping quarters.

He waited, prostrate on his cot, for the lull of dead slumber to grip the members of his team.

Wilkins was snoring up a storm, buried in sleep when Silberman tiptoed out into the hallway. He checked on Phillips and Emery in the other room; Emery, breathing softly and clutching her heavy blanket, Phillips sprawled across the floor in comatose stillness. He strolled down the hall and carefully opened the red metal door, slipping quietly into the lab.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew he was doing it, but it still felt like some otherworldly force was tugging his body along toward his workstation. He picked up the remote execution device and stared at it for a moment, afraid and excited. He put it in his pocket and made his way to the intake platform, the empty plastic shroud still lying there from the previous test. He stepped into it and lifted it around himself, barely present as he zipped it up, holding the controller in his hand through the transparent wrapping. He contemplated his life; all the work he had done, all the people he had loved. He held his breath and closed the airtight latch.

Without a second thought, he pressed the glowing red button and heard that sweet click echo into nothing.