Cartographic Analysis of the Dream State

Pat Murphy

Description

Traveling across the Martian polar cap, the second TransPolar Expedition is tracing the shape of the hidden lands beneath the ice and snow. Sita, the expedition's cartographer, has a talent for interpreting the shades and squiggles that the computer produces from satellite photos and sonic recordings. She takes ambiguous data and makes a clear and precise map of lands no one has ever seen.But Sita knows that maps are black-and-white portraits of a world that exists in shades of gray and, like cartographers before her, she knows that dragons lurk beyond the edges of every map. At night, in the darkness of her dreams, she believes in the yeti, the messengers from the secret lands, the dark-eyed dream beasts that haunt the crevasses and move as softly as the blowing snow.The world is not all that it seems on the surface. Beneath the polar ice lies danger and discovery.A novelette.

Sujets

• Short story
• Science fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Untreed Reads
• Date de parution: 18 juillet 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781611873917
• Langue: English

Extrait

A Cartographic Analysis of the Dream State
By Pat Murphy

Copyright 2012 by Pat Murphy
Cover Copyright 2012 by Ginny Glass and Untreed Reads Publishing
The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Also by Pat Murphy and Untreed Reads Publishing
Bones

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A Cartographic Analysis of the Dream State
Pat Murphy
I have a snapshot. One of the researchers at Endurance Station took it. It shows the four women of the second Trans-Polar Expedition, standing beside a SnoCat. Over our head, Tibetan prayer flags fly from the SnoCat’s cab, their colors brilliant against the salmon-colored Martian sky.
Four women wearing bulky parkas over our Lycra compression suits: Nan, Yukiko, Maria, and me. I stand at the end of the line of women-half a step away from the others. Nan, Yukiko, and Maria are smiling. My expression is hidden by the glare of sunlight on the faceplate of my helmet.
We wave and pose. Historic photos of the first expedition across the Martian polar ice. Photos for our children. For our grandchildren. Photos for the time when we are history. Frozen smiles, with the frozen wastes behind us.
* * *
My name is Sita. I’m a cartographer with a talent for interpreting the shades and squiggles that the computer produces from satellite photos and sonic recordings. I take ambiguous data and produce a map, drawing hard boundaries where suggestions of lines once existed, interpreting one set of smudges as meaningless noise and another as irregularities in the landscape.
The map, as everyone knows, is not the territory. A map is a representation, subject to the misinterpretations and confusions of the mapmaker. A map can show you how to get from here to there. But that only helps if you know where you’re going.
When I went on the Trans-Polar Expedition, I was looking for something. Like most people who are searching, I didn’t really know exactly what I was looking for. But I was looking, and looking hard.
Long ago, mapmakers drew dragons at the edges of maps, in the unknown lands that were still unexplored. Today, there are fewer dragons. But you can still find them, if you know where to look.
Beneath the ice and snow of the Martian polar cap are lands that have been hidden for hundreds of thousands of years. Before the seismic studies of the Trans-Polar Expedition, no one knew the shape of those hidden lands. We mapped lands that no one had ever seen, learning the secrets of Mars.
* * *
“We leave in one month,” Maria Calida said. She leaned on her desk, studying me with intense blue eyes. I had never spoken with her before, though I had heard her lecture on the findings of the first Trans-Polar Expedition. That expedition had turned back because of unseasonable storms. They lost one SnoCat in a crevasse, and Maria herself was responsible for the rescue of the two expedition members from that vehicle. You know all this, I’m sure. Everyone does.
When Maria interviewed me, she looked just as she did in the videos of the first expedition, except that her hair had a few more streaks of gray and her face had a few more lines around the eyes. “This expedition has been in the planning for three years now,” she said. “And last month, Janice Katura, our cartographer, snapped her Achilles tendon playing racquetball. Three months recovery time, minimum. I found a replacement: Dita Rachlin. Then Dita broke her leg in a climbing accident. Multiple fractures.” Maria leaned back, scowling-not at me, but at some vague point behind my head. “Both Janice and Dita recommended I talk to you.”
I nodded. Dita had warned me that Maria would scowl, but had advised me not to take it personally.
“What’s your experience on long expeditions?”
I took a deep breath. “I was cartographer on a mining survey trip across Hellas Basin. One month in two Rovers and a jumping truck. We mapped the landforms under the sand, searching for mineral deposits.”
“A picnic in the park, compared to this one. No polar experience?” Her scowl deepened when I shook my head.
“Look,” I said. “You’ve seen my r é sum é and you know my background. And I’m sure Dita and Janice told you that I have considerable experience interpreting both satellite data and sonic recordings. I’ve been checking over your route, and I’d like to show you a few things I’ve found. Do you mind?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ll need to access the central database.” I pulled my chair up to the work station beside her desk and tapped an access code into the keyboard. A map of the polar cap appeared on the screen. “I’ve been wondering about this patch.” My fingers traced a line on the map. “I know that you’ve been using this map series, drawn up last year. The cartographer in charge of the project interpreted this area as an ice plain-hard-packed. But look here.” I tapped on the keyboard again and called up a satellite photo mosaic of the same area. There were faint shadows, gray smudges on the white surface. “I suspect that region is actually a thin crust over loose snow. Similar to the patch where you lost that SnoCat on your first expedition. I’d recommend that you reroute to skirt this region altogether.”
She studied the screen. “You’re suggesting a significantly longer route. Why should I trust your interpretation?”
I shrugged. “If I’m wrong, you lose a day’s time to a detour. But if I’m right and you don’t detour, you risk the success of the expedition. And I did a little more checking.” I called up another satellite photo mosaic. “This series was taken a decade ago.