Time Corps 20

"A word with you privately Indira."
"Yes Col."
"Scrub the Israel mission."
"Do you mean someone else is going?"
"Lt, whole lotta stuff you're better off not knowing. Certain highly-placed TV people have exercised right of veto."
"You ah would be referring to neo-Nazis Col?"
"Better not getting an answer to that. Back to the drawing board, we'll find you something."

"Ok Indira, nature photography, midwinter you land at Saglouc, northern end of the Ungava Penisula. It's the year 2100, by then all of northern Quebec is totally uninhabited. It's 900 miles as the crow flies to Chibougamau, you'll walk it. Don't worry, you'll have a blaster to protect against wolves or polar bears. Snowshoes, Arctic survival gear."
I gasp, "surely you aren't serious?"
"Our viewers are bored to death with people stories. Want uninhabited nature as far as the eye can see. If we want ratings, we give them what they want, not what we want."
"Col, why send a tropical person? Why not an American from the northern States?"
"Oh but Indira you don't understand. Nice round face of yours, you're now an Eskimo. Besides you're a lot lighter on snowshoes than any of the rest. Glide on top, not sink in."
With that, I start laughing, she joins in.
I'm not fooled. Somehow I get the feeling the TV execs would prefer if I don't return. So, I'm guessing my rendezvous does not show at Chibougamau.
Why? Only conceivable reason, they are upset I downloaded Uris' book. Neo-Nazis?
I ponder it, shrug. Wolf or polar bear or freezing to death? Just get it over with. Beats playing the little kid for centuries on end.
I could refuse the mission, pointless, just get some other low percentage mission, just do it.

I watch as endless empty forest, then endless miles and miles of snow and ice tundra slides by. We come in low, they hover a few feet up and I exit. I watch liftoff, then get to it.
I will not bore you with the sheer endlessness of a tundra then forest walk. Suffice it to say, my toboggan (flat sleigh with no runners) carries adequate supplies. The blaster never leaves its holster for real. The Eskimo parka, snow packs, insulated tent, down sleeping bag prove satisfactory.
I have never experienced such fresh air, such brilliance of sun on snow, for which I have tinted and polarized goggles.
The biggest surprise of my entire life, my rendezvous shows at Chibougamau. Thought I would have to walk clean to Montreal, get a job.

As it turns out, I fell prey to an overactive imagination, fuelled no doubt by the same in Col Khan. I return with a zillion stunning photos. I arrive to a heroine's welcome, a new genre is born, wilderness tourism shows, and Time Corps is back on the map. Many photos become postcards and children collect them. So it was a home run after all.

Once again I should be famous, TV ratings say over a billion and a half people saw the world-famous Professor Hartfield, foremost figure in the world of Arctic research, respectfully interview me.
Yet what happens at the newstand? "Dear," the clerk says, "haven't seen you of late."
Blushing, I mumble, "been out of town," as I pay.
"Well, since it isn't vacation time, guess your parents now have joint custody."
I feel a wild insane desire to run amok, whip out an Uzi, blow away everyone in this sad sorry place. Just as fast, it vanishes, I fold Le Monde, tuck it in tunic pocket and head for the only coffee house where I'm known.
The counterwoman grins, "usual Indira? Never knew you were an Eskimo."
"Just a publicity gimmick, I'm 100% East Indian."
"Still, you looked pretty convincing in that outfit. What's it like to experience minus 60 degrees?"
"Not bad, first rate equipment."
I sit with Nilofar, "aren't Eskimos ah a little fatter, stockier?"
"I was chosen because I was light on snowshoes, as well as the round face."
Georgette the MP sgt grins, "gotta tonna stories for ya. World didn't stand still while you were off gallivanting."
Everyone laughs.
As I sip vanilla hazelnut, I reflect how wonderful it is to have friends.