Pulse

Chapter 9 - Glasshouse

Adam's Skycheetah made its final approach, deployed its landing gear and gently eased into layers of freshly laid snow. As the engines powered down, the side doors slid open and a small set of steps shunted out, then retracted again as they tried in vain to find solid ground. Ignoring the confused step mechanism, Adam jumped down out of the warm, luxurious interior – his living space for the past hour – and faced the Wildlands.

For anyone else, the spectacular view would have been worthy of awe. Adam just felt cold, nervous, tired, and hungry. The view represented emptiness to him. At this point, if a fucking polar bear came bounding towards him, crashing out of the forest, roaring like a maniac, he'd probably just sigh, lie down, and accept his fate. At least the bear would get a decent meal.

The sun was setting over Mount Babel on René-Levasseur Island. Known as the Eye of Quebec, the crater with its peculiar central land mass had been created many millions of years ago in Earth's past by a meteor impact. The central raised plateau was surounded by a moat-like reservoir and was home to the Louis-Babel Ecological Reserve. The Glasshouse research outpost – a monument to humanity's past obsession with studying and conserving the natural world – stood alone deep inside the boundaries of the natural park where Adam's VIP transport had just landed.

Adam slung his faithful bag of Epispray cannisters over his shoulder and breathed in the icy Canadian air as if it was his first time experiencing an oxygen rich environment. The rush went to his head, tiny stars spinning in front of his tired eyes, as he relished the soothing effect that cool vapor always had on his raw, aching lungs. He was struggling to adjust after his long trip. The blinding white expanse that lay before him, the clear skies, the partially frozen lakes, the snow-dusted black spruce, firs, and jack pines filling every available space where something could take hold and grow was overwhelming to his senses. Squinting, he could just about make out what looked like the silhouette of a moose crossing a stream to God-knows-where, reminiscent of the images displayed on the transport's screen during the trip.

How did anything survive up here in the winter months? How did the people from his past manage to live here for a decade away from the convenience and security of the SCELECs?

He'd soon find out and hopefully by then the butterflies in his stomach would be replaced by the afterglow of a warm satisfying meal – maybe a fresh catch of salmon or trout – something he'd been looking forward to for days.

Finally, the Skycheetah gave up trying to make 'passenger exit' a more elegant experience, fully retracted the step-assist module, locked shut the side doors with a resounding shunk, and turned off all landing lights as if it knew that it would be here for a while, nesting down like an animal preparing to hibernate.

Adam blew hot breath on his gloveless hands and rubbed them vigorously in a vain attempt to stay warm. He wasn't exactly well equipped for his new workspace. His climasuit was too thin, he wasn't wearing thermal underwear or socks, and his boots provided only a thin layer of protection against the cold wetness trying to seep in. He was still in shock after what had happened at the D.C. landing station. This new cold helped to numb his brain, keeping it occupied, away from dark thoughts.

He wondered if the sleek transport had enough juice left for the return trip and whether there would be a return trip at all. If need be, he could see how this would be a great place to retire, recalling how, long ago, tuberculosis sufferers would find relief when swapping deathly city smog for the pristine medicinal air of the northern territories. All this place needed was a bar populated with an equal mix of friendly and grumpy mechs (to keep things realistic) and the odd supply drop to make life a little more bearable. Afterall, he was a soft, ex-pat city-dweller that wasn't even remotely interested in learning the ways of the Wildlands, but with the addition of a few creature comforts, he'd be all set to live out his final years away from the maddening crowds.