6:58 AM | July 12th, 2016 | Chicago, IL – 26 °C

A magazine lies across the dining table in a fancy high rise apartment, showing Evelyn in a sharp suit, arms crossed, wearing a confident grin.

Winner of the prestigious Allright Scholarship since 2011. Now—the next director of the Future Initiative Laboratory. In an age of pro-environmental sentiment, can she rescue Petrogon’s green energy initiative?

The headline invites readers to learn how this young woman rose to power and fortune. But no one here will open it – for it belongs to Evelyn herself.

She sits on her bed, with curly messy hair and dark circles under her eyes displaying the exhaustion from insufficient slumber. She scrolls through emails after her promotion was announced. Her dry lips curl at the first email.

Hi Evelyn,
Congrats on the promotion. Finally moving up in the world, eh? I’ll look forward to our teatime in August when I’m in Chicago for a conference.
じゃあね~
Sakiko Hoshino, PhD.

She can’t remember why they’re so close. Sakiko feels like a closed comrade forged in some shared catastrophe. Yet, neither of them can recall any such event.

Her smile fades slightly at the next email.

Hello dear,
Congratulations on the promotion. When you’re home, I’ll treat you to a pint of Spotted Cow and a Culver’s burger!
XXX,
Jolene

It’s been a while since she spoke to her mom. Maybe she should visit this weekend…

Then the last email makes her frown.

We aren’t falling for your greenwashing.
You can change the face of R&D, but we still see you.
We’ll make sure the world sees it too.
– Terra Indomita.

Red hot anger flares up in her chest. Threats from the Terra Indomita always feel personal to her, like a grudge from a forgotten feud.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

A soft whisper comes from beside her—a woman with long red hair.

“Elly, you forwarded me a hate mail… again”

Eve shows her the message – causing Elly to frown.

“Aw, I’m sorry. I’m such a terrible secretary…”

Smooch

Elly’s fingers slip into Evelyn’s curls. She pulls her closer and presses her plump lips against Eve’s. Evelyn closes her eyes as they share a passionate moment.

But in the brief darkness behind her eyes, Elly’s appearance changes.

She can see a scar at the corner of Elly’s lips that shouldn’t be there. Glasses she doesn’t need. The face isn’t Elly’s.

It’s someone from her dreams.

Allison… finally… we’re together. Where have you been? I miss you…How DARE you leave me here alone….

SNAP!!!!

Evelyn jolts upright. “Hey! Wake up! Stop moaning ‘Allison’!” Elly snaps her fingers, furious. “What’s wrong with you? Thinking about another woman while you’re with me!?” The departure of Elly was rapid – she gave Evelyn only a second to apologize before she runs out of the room with tears on her cheeks. “Ah….FUCK” Evelyn sits still.

She knew Elly was not lying.

Not the first time her fling ended by calling her partner the wrong name…ever since that faithful day.

Five years ago, she survived an unknown disaster and was evacuated to the Falkland Islands. The details remain a mystery even now. Before that day, the last thing she can remember was in January 2011. She remembers writing a report on werewolf sightings in Fulda—an assignment Valerian forced on her around new year time. Bored, she slipped out to buy a gray field jacket on sale. The jacket that she wears everywhere in the winter even now. She remembers trying it on and paying for it with cash. Then—

Like a film bleached by light before it’s developed. A blank screen during the intermission of a play.

Her next memory was in Berlin.

This time, she was packing her belongings from the BGA office. She was fired. The reasoning was lost in time, and so she moved back to America. A month after settling into her new apartment in the south side of Chicago, something drove her to contact Lydia R. Herbert at Petrogon. Somehow, Lydia already knew her. Emails became a meeting, then an interview. That’s how she joined Petrogon’s Chicago R&D lab—the start of her climb. Her ruthless political instincts in the last 5 years caught the management’s eye.

Evelyn rises from the bed – standing by the big window overlooking Lake Michigan. Her reflection stares back in the window glass distorted.

The ghosts – that’s what she named her recurring visual hallucination.

A red-haired woman with glasses and a scar at her mouth. Allison. A wave of regrets follows when Eve looks upon the figure to her left.

Another figure—a tall woman with messy black hair and a scar over red eyes. A feeling of longing fills her heavy heart when her eyes met the red ones.

And a man: tall, older, mustached, wearing a bomber jacket. His face is hidden behind her reflection. She cannot see his eyes, but she can see his proud grin.

She has seen them all in her dreams before, and sometimes she sees them when she’s awake.

They appear outside of her dream whenever she tries to recall the events in 2011 – like caches of data rescued from a corrupted hard disk, they miss certain features, and only the most recognizable things about them remains.

You got mail!

Evelyn’s eyes widened at the notification.

Hello Evelyn,
Are you free this afternoon? I’m in Chicago – and I want to talk to you about something.
Evelyn – I know that I can trust your chutzpah, but this project is too important for a video call.
It’s about the expedition to Antarctica.
- Julia R Herbert

Written by Chavin B.

MINUTES OF THE ANTARCTIC OPERATIONS SUBCOMMITTEE
2nd November 2015
Page 6 of 30

GL   Okay, people, we need to exercise some caution here.

EJ   Why?

GL   We don't know what could be behind these reports. It could be a trap.

LH   But this could represent an unprecedented opportunity for Petrogon, could it not? It is imperative that we remain at the forefront of the market, by exploiting these opportunities before our rivals.

JH   I understand ZillaOil has already initiated a feasibilty study.

EJ   There is no time for feasibility studies. We need to get in on the ground floor here.

GL   Right. And how exactly will Petrogon exploit time irregularities, erratic water currents and animal misbehaviour?

EJ   The details are not for us to find. We will need to send a researcher to investigate it.

JH   It is probably best that we provide a cover story to avoid unwelcome suspicion.

AM   Pfft, make up some nonsense about glaciers or something.

GL   Who is going to agree to go, given the circumstances?

AM   Some over-eager intern would probably leap at the opportunity. I dunno, from that grad scheme.

MINUTES OF THE ANTARCTIC OPERATIONS SUBCOMMITTEE
25th January 2016
Page 10 of 14

LH   Has anyone heard from that Isabel?

EJ   Barely a word. Probably just sitting drinking tea.

AM   Kids these days, huh. Such sponges-

GL   -shush. We need to nip this in the bud, now. Evelyn, this is your responsibility alone. Isabel is to report to you, after all. You need to get to the bottom of what's been going on as a matter of urgency, else we will be rather unhappy with you.

EJ   I mean, I am not there. There is not a lot I can do to-

JH   -then go and see it with your own eyes.

     [The room is silent for an extended period of time.]

Evelyn had no chance. The memories came flooding back long after she had crossed the point of no return, as the plane touched down outside the new Petrogon refinery at Vinson Massif.

Allison. Oh, Allison.

Evelyn would have that cold-blooded murderer Linda Trace see the full force of justice, if only the memory of her crime could escape this continent.

A shard. A vicious stab. That was all it took. And that was all it could ever be.

Brutal. So brutal. And so unfair.

Of course, Petrogon's sixth attempt at marshalling nature's crystals towards human ends is as fruitless as its fifth.

This time it really was environmentalist saboteurs. Just like 1998 and 1981.

With the effortless click of a button on a screen, the entire citadel goes up.

Evelyn Schneider Jackson finds herself falling. Off a bridge and into a crevice in the ice.

The innocent looking crevice is in fact the opening to a vast cavern.

And Evelyn falls, as the refractive cave walls with their purple tinge recede away from her.

And she falls. And falls.

And falls.