Pure Science

My first thought was to feed the guy. Nobody would ever think I'm a huge muscular man; I was never ashamed to admit I was a science nerd and looked like one. I wasn't a stick-figure, and some people told me I was good-looking, but there was never any danger of me accidentally winning a Bulgarian weightlifting competition.

Compared to this guy, though, I looked like The Hulk in his green-ish phases, except I wasn't green. While he walked down the aisle of the airplane, it seemed that supporting his own weight posed a huge challenge for him. He didn't just look physically weak, he also seemed terribly shy. I was afraid he'd be a part of our mission and that would be absurd.

"Damn, Anna, what the fuck is this guy doing here?"

"What? Him? Why not?"

"Why not? Seriously? We're going to be in the South Atlantic for months. You and I have done this before. We both know how tough it will be, physically and mentally. The last thing we need is to carry this milquetoast around. He looks like he can barely lift his shoe laces."

"That's Bruno," she said as if that explained everything.

"Bruno?" I snorted. "Seriously? That sounds like a big mean lumberjack. Who names a guy like him Bruno?"

"I wasn't there, but I'd guess he was still a baby when the decision was made," she stated drily. I had to laugh. Her humor was one of the things that had attracted me in the first place. She was physically attractive, though she'd never be a runway model. It was her sharp mind that made her irresistible. Well, at least for me. Others rarely seemed to show the same interest, which was fine by me.

Finally, the inappropriately named guy found a seat, which mercifully ended his fight against gravity before he lost on points, and he immediately fastened his seat belt, although we wouldn't take off for quite a while.

"He's quite safety oriented, right?" I guess I was trying to think of something that would qualify him for our mission.

"He should be, he's our captain."

"He's what?"

"Captain. You know the word? Capitano. Kapitän. Boss. God."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. But why him? I mean, just look at him."

"The Foundation made the decision, of course. He has the nautical qualifications as a captain. He will deal with the sailors on board, so we don't have to. Plus, he's a scientist and will work with us. You have to admit it's a unique combination. I know, he seems a bit meek. The Foundation pays for the show, and it seems he was their choice. We're just the scientific galley slaves."

"I know, I know. They own our asses. You keep saying that, but I disagree, Anna. But it's also true that the results from this mission better... oh, shit.

"What?"

"Look. Vandorne."

"Oh," she just said, and to my dismay, it was the pleased kind of 'oh.'

"What the fuck is he doing here?"

She was actually smiling while she was looking at my nemesis. She also didn't seem very surprised. This wasn't looking good.

Max Vandorne. It wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't so damn good looking. Groomed to the last detail, with a face like a male model.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't so damn rich. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he never had to work for anything.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't so damn useless. His only competence was being alive.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't Anna's ex and we disliked each other intensely. The guy was arrogant and condescending, I knew from Anna he was a serial cheater and he was prone to sudden, alcohol related mood swings. She left him for those reasons, but they seemed to matter less to her as the years passed.

All of this would still have been bearable if she hadn't kept comparing me to him throughout our whole relationship. Needless to say, I usually came up short. We had countless fights over it, and she never understood why I was so "insecure." I finally had enough and told her to tone it down or I'd leave her. Thankfully, I didn't hear any more about him until the damn bastard boarded our plane, looking as if he owned it, which was possibly the case.

Shit.

"I can't believe how good he still looks," Anna remarked, unerringly finding the worst thing she could possibly say.

"I can't believe how much like a cheating arrogant asshole he still looks," I answered, hoping she would remember why their relationship had failed.

"I can't believe you're still jealous."

"I can't believe he's even here. He has as many scientific credentials as the carpet he's standing on."

"Well, he pays for this project."

"The Foundation does."

"Yes, which is partly owned by the Vandorne trust. Maybe mostly owned or even solely owned. Nobody knows for sure. If you didn't know that, you better get used to it quickly. He owns our bums while we're on this trip. You better mind your manners around him."

"Like fuck I..."

I was interrupted by a cheerful "Anna. I'm so glad you're here." As usual, Max totally ignored me. Our dislike for each other and our liking for Anna were the only things we had in common.

"Max! I didn't expect you to join us. I'm surprised," she pleasantly said.

"In a good way, I hope."

My wife was in the window seat, and Max leaned over me to continue their meaningless chatter. This posture placed his armpit right in front of my nose. Said armpit was just as objectionable as the rest of him, despite the fact that his deodorant was probably created by some master perfumer in Grasse and each breath I took cost more than I made in a month. Despite that, the smell almost made me puke. I didn't want to inhale even a single atom that had been in contact with him. Plus, it was a clear gesture of dominance while he flirted with my wife and there was nothing I could do about it.

Finally, a "boarding completed" from a tinny overhead speaker announced the end of that particular misery.

"Do you mind if we change seats, little buddy?" he asked. He wasn't any bigger than me, but he obviously regarded others as less than His Preeminence as a matter of principle.

"I do," I drily replied.

"Great. Mine is right there." He pointed to a seat a few rows away.

"Have fun there." I smiled as I pointed in the same direction.

"What? Listen, little man..."

"Would you please take your seat, sir?" a flight attendant interrupted him.

"What?" Someone was trying to tell him what to do, and even though it was done most politely, Max was clearly startled.

"Please. Now."

"Sure," he replied, grumbling, and left.

"What the fuck was that, Tom? That was rude."

"You're right. He was extremely rude," I answered, although I knew that wasn't what she meant. She knew that I knew, so further discussion was pointless.

"Just try not to fuck this up, okay, Tom? This is important."

"Fuck what up, Anna? The mission? Max's delusions of his own adequacy? What do you mean?"

"We need these jobs, Tom. I don't want to end up homeless like my aunt."

While I regarded our marriage as a really good one, money was always a sore spot. I never knew for sure whether she actually had a homeless aunt, but I was absolutely sure she was always worried about the future in general and money in particular. She never thought we had enough. More importantly, she always worried we'd lose status we already had, although it certainly wasn't much.

To some extent, she had a point. The scientific world was full of economic uncertainty and careers coming to a sudden stop. Temporary contracts were the norm, and few of us knew how we'd earn our money five years from now. I knew this, but it didn't bother me much. I didn't need much, and I was generally more optimistic. If one door closed, I was sure that another would open up.

"It's going to be okay. We'll always get a job. If everything goes wrong, we can still become teachers."

I knew having to end her scientific career and becoming a teacher was her personal idea of total failure. I knew it was a sore spot and I shouldn't have touched it, but I was still in a bad mood over the whole Max business.

Anna was my dream woman, except when she wasn't. She was friendly, warm and caring, with a great sense of humor. That all changed when Max' long shadow fell upon us. If he was present, even as an idea or a memory, it was as if he brought out a hidden part of Anna that wasn't too unlike him.

We hadn't seen much of Max for the last few years, which was fine with me. Now he was actually present, and he would be for the whole mission. I had a really bad feeling about this.

Instead of responding to the icy silence from my wife, I leaned back and mentally calculated the risk of the plane crashing on our way to Ushuaia. I wasn't really afraid, I just liked to calculate probabilities of things. I also calculated whether Max' death would be worth my own and Anna's. It wasn't.

In confirmation of statistical expectations, we were still alive when we landed. I had been in Ushuaia before, as it was a natural starting point for South Atlantic expeditions. Still, the whole landscape intimidated and impressed me once again. It was a reminder of what was to come. We were facing nature, pure and brutal.

When the trip was first planned, I had calculated the risk of fatalities as under one percent. After having seen Bruno, our so-called captain, that estimate had increased significantly. After the unpleasant scene with Max, we were about to reach two-digit probabilities. I had a bad feeling about this expedition, but it was too late to back out. Not only had I signed a contract, I also needed the results to further my career. The only upside was that Max was paying for it. If he was intelligent enough to understand that, he would certainly hate it, which gave me a warm feeling.

* * * * *

The harbor was just like I remembered it. It was exactly like Saint-Tropez, just without the nice weather, the beautiful people, the nice buildings, the beaches and the yachts. Instead, there was wind, rain, weather-beaten fishermen and fishing trawlers. There were a few stalls for tourist trips,the rest was completely utilitarian

The trawlers were mostly in good condition, as people here were obviously aware of the dangers of the Southern Ocean. There were two moored at the very end of the pier that looked like they weren't good enough for fishermen anymore, but good enough for scientists. Knowing the Foundation's legendary stinginess, I estimated the probability of those being ours at almost a hundred percent.

My loving wife had obviously come to the same conclusion and had already started to pull her suitcase towards the decrepit little ships. Sighing, I followed her. We were still in icy silence mode. Our marriage had not been the best recently and I was hoping to reconnect on this journey. Since I had learned Max would be present, I estimated the likeliness of marital parameters deteriorating further at over 50 percent.

As I came nearer, the condition of the ships didn't seem questionable anymore. They were clearly approaching retirement age, if not well past it. I didn't envy the sailors responsible for keeping those buckets afloat. I also didn't envy us for having to live and work on them.

We would live on the bigger ship, and most of the actual science would happen there. Anna and I were to have a cabin big enough to live and work in. The small vessel with its additional sensors would follow a parallel course, to have wider sensor coverage.

As I got near the end of the pier, I stopped to take a good look around me. The wind was sharp and full of fine drizzle. The sea seemed rough and hostile, dark water with white crests. I looked out on the ocean and wondered if this would be where we'd all die. Nature seemed to be telling me it wasn't kidding around.

There were quite a few trawlers in the harbor. Big, sturdy things, made for the harsh elements. Our decrepit little vessels were none of those. The bigger one looked like a rather small coastal fishing boat. I thought it had to be a joke. There had to be some candid cameras around. There was no way they'd expect anyone to work on that tiny rust bucket in the open ocean.

Bruno, our frail captain, had managed to move his body next to me.

"Seriously?" I asked while pointing at the floating pile of scrap.

"I know. There were no other ships available, they said."

"No other ships?" I asked, emphasizing 'other.' "That would imply calling this thing a ship."

"Relax, dude. All sensor data will be available on both ships, but it's the big one we'll live and work on. Everyone tells me they're actually both quite sturdy and in good condition. They're just not very pretty." Bruno did his little best to radiate confidence.

"Thank god for that. Still, who's going to man this smaller bucket? That one looks like a death trap."

"Mo, Bo and Jo over there. They're seasoned sailors and have no objections. If they trust the ships, we should do the same."

If they were really seasoned sailors, they wouldn't do this, I thought, but kept my mouth shut. I was just glad not to be on the smaller piece of junk, but on the bigger piece of junk. Maybe those sailors were in desperate need of money or wanted to commit suicide anyway. I quickly calculated the chance of the Foundation being able to find three suicidal sailors in Ushuaia was way below one percent, but you never knew. I didn't have the time to do a detailed analysis.

Sighing, I boarded the thing that someone had once named "Santa Maria." The small thing was the "Nina," but as the names on the bows were faded almost beyond legibility, that meant I probably wouldn't have to put up with Christopher Columbus jokes for the whole mission. Probability was a bit over 70 percent.

Once I was aboard, the "Santa Maria" actually didn't look as bad. It seemed the Foundation had chartered at least one relatively safe ship. I was certain the only reason for that was the safety of their golden boy Max. I estimated the chances of the bigger ship's survival in the harsh conditions at over 97 percent, although without any real data that was just a guess. Well, actually just a gut feeling.

A side effect of the extra funds spent on Max' survival would be my own, at least as long as they didn't force me onto that small vessel.

The "Santa Maria's" crew all looked vaguely similar: middle aged, grumpy, with bearded weather-worn faces. They lived on another deck and soon made clear they preferred to stay away from us science weirdos. Their areas, the bridge and the machine room, were totally off limits for us, except for Bruno, of course.

* * * * *

"I will need an assistant, of course," Max stated out of the blue.

I looked around, waiting for laughter, dissent or at least astonished faces. None of it was to be seen, despite the demand's pure ridiculousness.

"You what?" I asked, still surprised I was the only one surprised.

"An assistant," he repeated slowly, as if he was talking to a moron. "For proper scientific work."

Again, I looked around. The whole scientific crew was assembled. Nobody ever had an assistant on those trips or even asked for one. We did our own work, nobody even wanted anyone else to touch their equipment. Still, all I could see were completely blank faces.

"You have a problem with that?" he added.

"No, none at all. None at all," I repeated lifting my hands in the universal peace gesture. "As long as it's not me or Anna, I'm fine."

"It is actually Anna. My assistants have always been women, I like it that way and she's the only woman around."

Wow. I felt my blood boil after this ridiculously misogynist statement. I was sure Anna would rip his head off for it and looked forward to seeing it. She took no shit from anyone, especially shit like this.

"Sure, Max. It would be my pleasure," she replied instead, smiling sweetly. At him, not me.

"Now wait a moment," I protested, feeling that my wife deserved something better than spending the entire mission as this nincompoop's servant.

"No, you wait a moment," she said, turning to me and completely losing that sweet smile. "If I want to be Max's assistant, I'm going to be Max's assistant. You hear that?"

She made her priorities clear to everyone, especially Max. My face flushed, and I'm sure my pulse and blood pressure were at unhealthy levels. My quick calculations revealed a 74.4 percent chance that the best of my bad options was to leave the room, so that is what I did. Neither Anna nor anyone else said a word.

Beyond angry, I went to our cabin and continued unpacking my equipment. I needed something to clear my mind or I'd go crazy. It was certainly a good thing Anna didn't appear for quite some time. I had never been disrespected like this by anyone, and I had no idea what to do about it.

"What the fuck was that?" The angry words reached our cabin about 10 yards ahead of Anna herself. Funny, I thought that was my line.

I just looked at her. I really looked at her, more intensely than I had in a long time. I tried to understand what had happened to us. If I still loved her. Who this person really was.

She seemed to sense that our situation really was serious and calmed down a little.

"Look, it's nothing. I'm just going to help him a bit."

"Fine," I said noncommittally. "Do what you want. I will take the upper bunk. The lower is bigger and more comfortable."

I wasn't trying to punish her, but I really couldn't imagine touching her, let alone sleeping with her. It wasn't just the anger. Right then, the very sight of her repulsed me.

"Come on, we're husband and wife. We sleep together. You know we need to reconnect."

"Upper bunk it is," I repeated, smiling artificially.

She stood there, suddenly looking small and helpless, as if she didn't know what to do. That changed again after just a few seconds.

"Fine. Have it your way." She flounced across to the other side of the little cabin.

We did what had become standard procedure in our marriage. I didn't want a big fight, so I just clammed up; she didn't apologize, so nothing was resolved and the conflict would fester in the background. I calculated there was an 82 percent chance this was one of the core problems of our marriage.

I continued connecting and calibrating the sensors for my experiments, as this was the only thing I had any control over right then. The whole situation with Max and Anna was too unclear and illogical for me. Her behavior made me doubt her love for me. If she didn't love me, why was she still in my cabin and not in Max's? If she loved me, how could she treat me like she did? I generally didn't like tension and confusing situations, and this was definitely tense and confusing.

Anna didn't even start to unpack her own equipment. I thought about asking her why, but decided against it. She obviously had a reason for it, and it was none of my business. There might also have been a bit of manly sulking involved.

"Come on, Tom. Come to bed. Don't be like this." She tried to sound loving and seductive.

'Be like what?' I wanted to shout at her, but again decided against it. I hated open confrontations. I looked at a given setup, analyzed it and came to conclusions. I usually didn't need others to affirm my conclusions. Except Anna, but she was the core of my current problem.

By the time I had brought an unruly sensor back into proper discipline, Anna was gone. I was both afraid she had left me for good and angry enough to hope she had. Still unable to come up with credible probability numbers for either case, I just shook my head in confusion and decided some sleep was needed. I would need a clear head for both my experiments and my marital problems.

A few hours later, I woke up to Anna squeezing herself into my miniscule upper bunk. It was uncomfortable as hell. I found I was 70 percent relieved and only 30 percent disappointed that she was back. That was a hint about my true feelings towards her. There was still something left.