Book 18: Barging In

Alex

Walls of ice reflect an icy blue, turning the scratch paper littered over my metal desk a hazy cerulean. My gloved hands steadily manage a pen after years of practice, but many of my lab assistants and postdocs still grumble about my nearly unintelligible handwriting.

In my defense, I had to learn an entirely new written language in my early twenties.

I shift my weight on the stool beneath me and brace my elbows on the desk. Behind me, the main area of the lab is alive with murmurs, the hum of lab equipment and heaters, and the crunch of threaded boots over the sleek floor of ice.

I look back down at my notes. They’re nothing major, just personal commentary on a recent discovery in a core of ice brought up from nearly two miles below the surface–the deepest we’ve ever been able to drill without something going