The Antarcticans

by Suriano, James

  “I’m Addie,” he said. “Florencia told me you’re here by yourself, so if there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

  Noila smiled warmly. “Thank you. I appreciate it. So what’s the trick with the Ptahs, since I’m at their mercy for moving my research forward?”

  “Time, attention, touch, all the things we want. You’ll fall in love with those little fellas before you leave this place.” His tone was buttery and rich; Noila felt her head swirl in the mix.

  “I…I…hmmm, I’ll give it a try. Did it just get dimmer in here?”

  “Sometimes power gets redirected. Nothing to worry about.” The Ptah popped up from Addie’s collar and settled on his shoulder before rearing up in a cobra pose and swaying back and forth. “Sorry, he’s just being funny. They have a sense of humor, and this Ptah and I have been together for a long time. It’s hard to explain, especially to humans.” He rubbed the bottom side of the Ptah then returned to the image of the lab in Noila’s cottage and gave her some further information and advice.

  Afterward, he walked Noila to her cottage so they could work on retrieving samples in her lab. When they arrived, he held the front door open for her. She thanked him and went in, then stripped off her coat and headed straight to the lab in the bathroom; Addie followed. The tiles had rearranged themselves, and it appeared as any cozy bathroom would. There was a fireplace, burning brightly in the wall above the bathtub, which she hadn’t noticed previously. The Ptahs, however, were nowhere to be found. Noila reached for the button that Vinettea had pointed out to her, when suddenly she felt the burning warmth of Addie press up from behind her and gently stop her hand.

  “So anxious to get started on our work?”

  Noila cleared her throat loudly. “I’m married,” she said.

  Addie laughed heartily as he backed away from her. He was having trouble catching his breath from laughing so hard. “No, no, no” was all he could get out.

  Noila’s face flushed in embarrassment. Had she been too presumptuous? “I’m sorry…I thought you were…” She stopped short of trying to put a description to what had just happened.

  “Common mistake. We tend to be very close and affectionate creatures. Humans seem to interpret this as something…sexual? I think that’s the correct word.” He sounded unsure. “I was simply suggesting we plan our approach to serenade the Ptahs before we awaken them by changing the room into a lab.”

  Noila let out a sigh of relief.

  When Addie left for the night, after several failed attempts on Noila’s part to win over the creatures, she settled into one of the leather library chairs and poured herself a Scotch from the small collection of alcohol in the kitchen. She sipped quietly and let the first splashes against her tongue rise through her mouth and nose, pulling the flavor and richness from the golden liquid.

  Gavin had poured her the first Scotch she’d ever tasted; she wasn’t much of a drinker when they’d first met, and she still wasn’t, but as their relationship grew, many of their nights were shared together over a long Glenlivet 21. It was expensive, but his mother’s drinking had necessitated the purchase of whatever was available within quick grab at Sechee’s Liquor Store. Mr. Sechee must have put all the expensive stuff up front near the register, because Gavin’s mom had more hundred-plus-dollar bottles of liquor than any other middle-class home in Florida City. Gavin hid the Scotch in the basement in an old crate. His mother didn’t seem to notice. It was more her compulsion to buy a bottle of “somethin’,” as she would say, rather than leave the heavenly liquor store empty-handed. This was always the reason. She was never interested in impressing a visitor to her house with an extensive bar of expensive spirits. It was a shame she just drank brandy now.

  The first time Noila and Gavin had made love, Scotch was on their breaths, rolling back and forth over their tongues as they devoured each other. All the memories, every big moment—Noila could savor them and reel through them like an old home movie, with the Scotch she sipped right now the projector that displayed them in her mind. Joshua came into her view as an infant, the family gathering around—her family—Gavin off in the background of the memory. Joshua was sweet and quiet. The reel moved, and the years passed, Gavin acquired a bigger role at the church; Joshua got bigger too and more quiet. Noila would catch him talking to himself in his room and in private, and then in public. She would ask him who he was talking to, and he would tell her, “No one.” But she knew someone was there.

  The fire crackled in front of her. She took the last sip and got up to pour another, adding a touch of water this time. She looked hard into the fire, focusing her eyes on the flames, and her vision became the memories again. Gavin was urging her into graduate school, even though Joshua was getting more remote in his behavior. She was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a biology magazine. Gavin asked her why she wasn’t pursuing her dream and what she loved to do. She felt guilty then, leaving Joshua, the same strings of guilt that pulled at her when she had left this time—to pursue a once-in-a lifetime opportunity that was getting stranger every hour she was here.

  She dialed Gavin’s mobile over and over and got the same message: “All circuits are busy.” She set her phone down and made her way the bathtub. She filled it with hot sudsy water, turned off the lights, and climbed in. The Scotch had worked its magic, and she was awash in pleasant memories, her muscles gentle and relaxed; she suddenly felt the desire to sing pop songs from her high-school days. She put her head back and smiled as she sang, rubbing the smooth milky soap into her skin. The fire in the bathroom was still going, and the orange light danced across the walls in excited shapes and patterns. Noila sat up to shake out the moves of a song she had mastered in her bedroom one night during her junior year while the rest of her friends were at the prom. The muscles in her shoulders tingled and rippled, something the amber liquid hadn’t ever done for her in the past. She went with it, leaning into it, until something dragged across her back. It wasn’t painful—it actually felt kind of good—but it meant something or someone was there besides her, and her heart leapt. She closed her eyes tighter, hoping it was a phantom sensation. Whatever it was dragged back, so lightly, in the same direction. She whipped her head around, ready to fend off a deathblow. The two Ptahs retracted quickly and clung to each other in fear.

  “Oh.” Noila covered her breasts in embarrassment. “So now you guys come out?” she said with a chuckle.

  The Ptahs let go of each other and slowly came out of their retracted stances. The one closest to her was orange, the other green with orange flecks scattered about it. They lowered themselves down to her just in front of her face, their segmented bodies moving in synchrony. She reached out for the Ptahs and moved closer to them, opening her palm to welcome them to touch her. Each segment of their bodies was distinct and looked machined rather than organic.

  “It’s okay,” Noila said. “You can touch my hand.”

  The orange Ptah extended toward her and made contact with her palm. Covering each segment and connecting the entirety of their bodies was a thin clear layer of a soft, flexible plastic that made the visual appearance of separate pieces feel instead like a smooth, supple tube. Noila let the Ptahs slowly wrap around her hands then up her arms.

  “What are you made of?” she whispered to herself.

  The fireplace went dark, and an image of a chemical structure appeared on the screen in its place. Noila studied the structure but didn’t recognize the combination of elements. She strained her eyes, but the flecked Ptah moved in to touch her hair, which distracted her, and when she turned back to look at the image, the fire was burning again in its place. She let the question go and continued exploring the Ptahs’ bodies. They were still connected to the ceiling, and Noila could only see the ends she was interacting with. The last segment of their bodies was round like a head. The sheath that covered the rest of the body didn’t extend to the ball. It appeared connected but also seemed to be a very independent piece. This contrasted with the rest of
the segments, which flowed in uniform motion. The ball of the orange Ptah began to spin, lifting away from Noila’s skin, the revolutions increasing until the ball became a whirring blur. An intense white light with a blue cornea lit up within the Ptah’s body then shot out into the air above the bathwater and projected the same icy white landscape Noila saw everywhere on this continent. But white fire was raining down from the sky, blasting into the earth, striking with the force of a meteor and throwing up clouds of ice and snow. The snow clouds around each of the impact sites blocked what was happening on the ground. Then she caught sight of one of the streaking lights from the sky, which had a Ptah body at the center of it.

  Noila gasped. “What in the world is that?”

  The image faded, and a new one appeared. It was a projection, shown from Noila’s perspective, as if she were riding on the back of one of the Ptahs. As the image raced through underground ice tunnels, a chill came over her. Ahead she saw a deep crystal-blue tail, thrashing and excreting liquid, some of it freezing in the air, some of it splashing against the cool ice walls and refreezing there like an added layer of paint. The tail turned up and drove through the tunnel toward the surface, chomping its way through the ice, until it broke through and landed on the snowy tundra. When the movement stopped, the snow and ice settled. The Ptah, which was the size of a tractor-trailer, was resting on the surface. The image vanished; the silver spinning head of the orange Ptah stopped; and the two creatures retracted into the ceiling, brushing Noila’s cheek as they went.

  “Wait…I don’t understand. Don’t go yet,” she said to the ceiling. She felt she had just witnessed something unique, as if she had gone back to the African savanna and watched the first human ancestor take their first upright steps thousands and thousands of years ago. She knew she didn’t understand the world anymore, but she surprised herself by being more interested in experiencing it than understanding it.

  …

  Deep in the night, Noila’s phone rang. She groped in the darkness for the buzzing, flashing screen. Gavin’s name was displayed. Finally, she thought, service.

  “Hi.”

  “Are you okay? Have they told you?” Gavin’s breathing was labored.

  “What’s going on?” His voice was spooking her.

  “The Dragon was hit by a tsunami and suffered heavy damage. The crew is fighting to keep us afloat. I’m with Josh.” Alarms and announcements were sounding in the background.

  “Oh, my God, I never should have left you two there. But you’re both okay? Like completely okay?” She sat up in bed and swung her feet over the side, searching for her shearling slippers.

  “We’re both fine, but I’ll feel a lot better when all the ship’s systems are restored. When are you coming back? They want to try some other experimental treatments with Joshua. I can explain when we aren’t in such a mess, but yeah, they—”

  “Hello?” Noila pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the screen: “Connection lost.” She slammed the phone down on the pillow, her heart racing. She got out of bed and paced the room before trying to reach Gavin again. The call wouldn’t connect.

  The next meeting with Henri and the other scientists wasn’t scheduled for two days. Other than meals, the expectation was that she would remain in her lab and do her work. After two hours of countless redials, she put on her outdoor clothes and headed through the village, looking for any signs that other people were awake and might be able to help her find a way back to the Dragon. The sun was always up, and blackout shades covered all the windows she passed. The village was on a predictable work cycle, and it didn’t look like there were any early birds. The glass entrance to the meeting center was open. Noila went down the stairs and wandered through the empty rooms. She heard pots clanging in the restaurant, where there were always meals available, and a spring of hope opened in her.

  She picked up her pace and came through the doors past the host stand. As she scanned the room, she saw that all the tables were empty, perfectly set for the breakfast crowd to come. Vases filled with small pink flowers sat atop each table, along with neatly placed salt, pepper, and sugar shakers. She made her way to the kitchen, where the noise was coming from. The two Antarcticans who were working spun around, startled, when Noila announced herself. They weren’t wearing any clothes except long aprons to cover their frontal fur. She noticed the Antarcticans who did manual labor had much thicker coats of hair. The younger one looked to be a female. Noila often had trouble distinguishing between the sexes, but she noticed the females’ eyes and ears were pitched more toward the top of their head, and their legs were generally longer and slimmer.

  “Do you know what time Vinettea or Henri come here?” Her voice was desperate.

  “If they come, it won’t be for a few hours. It’s very early. Why are you up? Something troubling you?” the male Antarctican answered.

  “The Dragon is in trouble. My husband and son are on it. I really need to talk to someone about getting home.”

  “Ah, I heard some rumblings about that come through the news feed. Want me to check on it?”

  “Well, yes, but can you tell me where Vinettea lives?”

  “Humans aren’t allowed in the Antarcticans’ living quarters, except by special invitation.”

  “Do you have a phone or something I can call the Dragon with?”

  “You might be better off just waiting until Vinettea gets here. Let me fix you a cup of coffee.” He wrapped his arm around her and ushered her out of the kitchen and nodded to the other Antarctican, who pulled out a chair for her.

  “Here you go.” She placed a cup of coffee on a saucer in front of Noila. A small splash of the coffee hit the spotless tabletop. The two Antarcticans spoke to each other in their rapid ticks and taps and retreated into the service kitchen.

  Noila, feeling helpless, sat and brooded. Her panic turned to nausea then to anger. The coffee helped, but the Scotch she’d had before she went to bed would have helped more. She heard something clacking against a table and some murmured excitement. She scanned the empty room for the source and found a small dividing screen with shadows moving behind it. She walked over and peeked around the corner. Four male Antarcticans were huddled around a table full of tiles. A row of tiles unseen to each of the other players was carefully being considered by each of the Antarcticans.

  “What are you playing?” She was being polite, since it was clear she was interrupting them.

  “Mah-jongg,” the oldest of the group answered. His white mane had gone sparse, his hands brittle and splotchy. “It was quite popular in your part of the world about a century ago. Do you know it, lady?”

  Noila had never been called “lady” before, but she accepted it as a compliment. “No, I’m not familiar with it.”

  “If you going to spend any amount of time here, take a look at it. It’ll help you win over the locals.” He smiled heartily, picked up a tile from his personal row, and set it down against the tiles in the center of the table.

  “Do you know if there’s any way to communicate with the Dragon?” she asked.

  “The what?” two of the Antarcticans said in unison.

  “The ship my husband is on? It’s urgent.” She clasped her hands as if she were going to pray.

  “No idea what you’re talking about. Now, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re in the middle of a game,” the male sitting next to the oldest Antarctican gestured his furry hand around the table as proof of their current involvement in the game.

  “Don’t be so bold.” The old Antarctican whacked his arm and pushed it down to the table. “She’s panicked, can’t you see? No sense stirrin’ her up further.” He looked up at Noila. “Apologies, lady. Sometimes Gresham has no sense about him.”

  She left them to their game, returned to her table, and plowed through four cups of coffee. When Florencia walked into the restaurant at 6:30 a.m. for breakfast, Noila was wired. She didn’t recognize her at first because her braids were loose, draping over her shoulders
like a shawl, and she wasn’t wearing her glasses.

  Noila raced over to her and grabbed her arm. “Florencia, the Dragon is in trouble.” “Whoa, whoa, you okay?

  “It’s Gavin and Joshua. I need to figure out how to get back to them.” She was holding Florencia’s arm as she walked toward the breakfast buffet.

  “Sorry, but my connections don’t go anywhere. I’m an employee here but not with special privileges.” She pried Noila’s hand off her so she could pour some coffee into her mug.

  “I’ll have another one of those,” Noila said quickly.

  “You sure? Seems like you’re hopped up on something. Caffeine might throw you over the edge. Maybe you should just chill out for a bit? You can’t get off the shelf whenever you feel like it. It’s a commitment. Like we talked about.” She mixed some cream into her coffee and swirled it around before pulling the spoon out and licking off a few drips of the brew.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so frantic, but this is urgent. Who could I talk to? C’mon…you’ve been here longer than me.”

  Florencia sighed. “Maybe Vinettea could help. I don’t really know her much beyond her role as a coordinator. I’d say Lucifer is a better bet, but I don’t think he’s scheduled to be down here anytime soon, and if what you say is true about the Dragon, well, he’s probably dealing with that mess.” She guided Noila to a table, her hand on the small of her back.

  …

  When Addie went to Noila’s cottage to start on their project, he heard her screaming from somewhere in the house. He knocked several times then cautiously made his way through the cottage and into the bathroom.

  “Something wrong?”

  “They won’t come down. What should I do?” She was pointing to where the Ptah resided. She looked at Addie with a confused expression. He was wearing a long, royal-looking orange robe; his mane was brushed fully out, and a small golden cord, which originated from somewhere in his head, was wrapped gently around his thick white hair. His hair was swept back, and she could see his full face. His eyes were wide and clear; they picked up the orange from his robe and resembled a burning fire. His ears were in line with his temples and pointed back, as if he were rushing through a brisk wind. He appeared fierce and magnanimous at the same time.