Where'd You Go, Bernadette(83)
“What behavior did you observe?” Nick asked when he got back.
“The penguins that spent most of their time fighting were the ones with no chicks,” I said.
“There you go,” he said.
“It’s like they’re supposed to be taking care of their chicks. But because they don’t have any, they have nothing to do with all their energy. So they just pick fights.”
“I like that.” He checked my work. “This looks good. I need your John Hancock.” I signed at the bottom, to verify that I was the scientist.
When Nick and I arrived back at the ship, Dad was in the mudroom peeling off his layers. I scanned my ID card. It bonged, and the screen read: BALAKRISHNA, PLEASE SEE OFFICIAL. Hmm. I scanned it again. Another bong.
“That’s because you didn’t scan out,” Nick said. “As far as it knows, you’re still on the ship.”
“Well, ladies and gentleman,” said the overhead voice, followed by the big pause. “We hope you enjoyed your morning excursion and that you’re hungry for some Argentinean barbecue, which is now being served in the dining room.” I was halfway up the stairs when I realized Dad wasn’t with me. He was standing at the scanner, with a puzzled look on his face.
“Dad!” I knew everyone would be charging the buffet line and I didn’t want to get stuck at the end.
“OK, OK.” Dad snapped to, and we beat the lunch crowd.
There was no afternoon excursion because we had to cover a huge distance and didn’t have time to stop. Dad and I went to the library to look for a game to play.
Nick found us there. He handed me some papers. “Here’s copies of your data, and past data, in case you’re interested.” So maybe that was his personality: nice.
“That’s so cool,” I said. “Do you want to play a game with us?”
“No,” he said. “I have packing to do.”
“Too bad,” I told Dad. “Because I’d really like to play Risk, but we need three players.”
“We’ll play with you,” a British girl’s voice said. It was one of the two girls from Port Lockroy! She and the other girl had handwritten labels stuck to their shirts that said their names, and ASK ME ABOUT PORT LOCKROY. They were freshly showered, with gigantic smiles stretched across their shiny faces.
“What are you doing here?” I said.
“There’s not a ship scheduled to visit Port Lockroy for two days,” said Vivian.
“So the captain said we could spend the night on the Allegra,” said Iris. They both wanted to talk so badly that they were like racecar drivers jockeying to cut each other off. It must have been from the lack of anyone else’s company.
“How are you going to get back?” I asked.
“There was a change of plans involving Nick—” Vivian started.
“That’s why there’s no afternoon excursion.” Iris finished.
“The Allegra has to take him to Palmer,” Vivian said.
“So we’ll end up crossing paths with the next ship to visit Port Lockroy, and Vivian and I will transfer to that—”
“The cruise companies like to keep it hush-hush, though—”
“They like to give the passengers the impression they’re all alone in the vast Antarctic Ocean so these crew transfers are only ever done in the dead of night—”
“And you’ll be pleased to know we’ve showered!” said Vivian, and they both burst into giggles, ending the talking derby.
“I’m really sorry if I was rude,” I said.
I turned to Dad, but he was heading down to the bridge. I didn’t call after him because Dad knows my strategy for Risk, which is to occupy Australia at the outset. Even though Australia is small, there’s only one way in and out, so when it comes time to conquer the world, if you don’t have Australia, you go in and your armies get trapped there until your next turn. Then the next player can gobble up the single armies you’ve left in your path. I had the three of us quickly pick our colors and distribute our armies before Dad came back. On my first four turns, I yoinked Australia.
Playing Risk with these girls was so fun because in my whole life I’ve never seen two people happier. That’s what a hot shower and peeing in a proper toilet will do. Vivian and Iris told me a funny story about how one day they were sitting at Port Lockroy between cruise ships and a huge fancy yacht pulls up and it’s Paul Allen’s yacht, the Octopus, which he and Tom Hanks got off and then requested a tour. I asked the girls if they got to shower on the Octopus, but they said they were too afraid to ask.
The freckled lady who called me rude at Port Lockroy sat down with a book and saw me and Vivian and Iris laughing like we’d known one another forever.
“Helloooo,” I said to her like a big smiling cat.
Before she could respond, the voice over the PA said, “Well, good evening.” He was announcing a bunch of whales on the starboard side, which I’d already seen. A few more “Well, good evening”s came and went, announcing a photography lecture, and then dinner, and then March of the Penguins, but we didn’t want to stop the game, so we took turns running plates of food from the dining room up to the library. With each announcement, Dad would pop up and give me the thumbs-up through the window, and I’d give him the thumbs-up in return. The sun was still blazing, so the only way to judge the passage of time was by the people trickling out of the library. Pretty soon, even Dad stopped appearing, and it was just the three of us playing Risk. Hours must have passed. It was just us and the cleaning crew. Then there seemed to be another “Well, good evening,” but I couldn’t be sure because of the vacuum. Then sleepy-eyed passengers with parkas over their pajamas appeared on the deck with their cameras.