The Book

Why am I doing this? Chris Tredinick thought for the hundreth time, as he sat back in the cheap, uncomfortable airplane seats. Somewhere near the back a baby was screaming and the large woman crushing him against the plastic window was sweating waterfalls, despite the arctic conditions created by the plane's air conditioning. The answer was simple, Chris was intrigued, about a week ago a letter had fallen through his letterbox from a 'Dr Thomas T. Bishop'. He wrote at length about a bold new scientific thoery which, he claimed, would reveal a conspiracy on an astronomical scale, though he was not explicit in describing what the thoery was. Instead he was given instructionsa and directions to a convention centre on the Falkland Islands where he would 'reveal all'. He'd also included a pair of return flight tickets from Birmingham International Airport in the UK to an airport in Stanley.

The letter alone he would have dismissed as junk mail, some sort of ploy to fool the gullible, but the plane ticket made him wonder, made him doubt. Trans-Atlantic plane tickets were still a lot, even with the rise of budget airlines. So he'd booked all his annual leave over the 4 week summer and taken off.

The letter had explained that in order to prove his thoery correct he would be leading an expedition out into the Antarctic (though quite why he insisted on referring to it as 'the Ice Wall' he didn't know.) over a sustained period and that any money lost through time off work he'd pay personally.

Eventually the plane landed at the passengers disembarked, many were tourists, drawn to the Islands by it's history of Maggie Thatcher's War. He passed through the security terminals, collected his luggage and walked into the arrivals terminal, where a man with dark glasses was holding a placard with 'Chrissetti' written on it, there were eight other men who all dressed identically, holding obscure placards reading 'Gayer', 'Midnight', 'Narcberry', 'Divito','Dann', 'Trekky', 'TheEngineer' and 'Gulliver'. Chris pulled out his letter again and read the bottom line 'Your pseudonym for this project will be Chrissetti, do not use your real name'

He was taken by the humourless drivers to one of nine identical black BMWs with blacked out windows.

"So, what's the deal with this journey then?" Chris asked the driver, who shrugged in response and Indicated he should get in the back. "I didn't even know there was a convention centre on the Falklands, where is it?"

"Not far." He responded. The road they were traveling on was a dull, featureless strip of tarmac through a largely barren plain of scrabby grass, in the distance, a couple of bomb craters were still visible from the Britain-Argentina war for the islands. A war which Chris had never fully understood the point of. It wasn't long before they were driving through the extremely low-rise town of Stanley,

Convention centre? there's barely a chip-shop!

Then he saw it, a fairly large dome of steel and glass, small by convention centre standards, but it looked like the most modern building on the island he'd seen, as they drove closer he noticed a brushed-steel sign above the entrance

The BMW pulled up and the driver indicated for him to leave

"Sorry, where am I? where am I expected to go? What is zetetic astronomy?" Chris said, standing outside the car.

"You'll find out soon enough, in Doctor Bishop's speech this afternoon." Said a voice behind him, making him jump "my name is Mr Chaltier, one of Dr Bishop's assistants here at the Rowbotham Institute."

The man was dark haired, fairly young, about 20ish and dressed in a white lab coat.

"Hello there," Chris responded, holding out his hand to shake the Doctor's "My name is Christopher Tre--"

"Chrissetti. I believe it explained in your letter that real names were not to be used over the coming weeks?"

"Well, yes, but why?"

"That should become clear in this afternoon's speech, but please, in the meantime, allow me to show you to your quarters for the duration of your stay before any of the other guests arrive."

"Sorry, am I forbidden from seeing the other guests?"

"You will meet the others this afternoon, please all will become clear--"

"When the great Thomas T. Bishop explains?" Chris snapped back, this man was seriosly beginning to grate his nerves.

As he was led into the building he noticed the institute's logo for the first time, a red Northern Polar projection of the Earth, with Antarctica spread around the edge, like the UN logo...

As he passsed through the inside of the Rowbotham Institute, Chris became intrigued by the images on the walls, A large poster of a woman holding a sheet out on a boat floating along a canal, another showed a series of flags on the same stretch of water. Underneath the poster on a small metal plate were the words 'Bedford Canal Experiment'.

Eventually he arrived at his quarters. A modest studio apartment consisting of a kitchen/living room, a small bedroom and an en suite bathroom, overall he'd stayed in worse conditions. On the work surface in the kitchen was a program for the day:

CHRISSETTI

12:00 - Arrival on site, shown to room
14:00 - 'Modern Zetetics' By Dr Thomas Bishop
15:00 - Lunch
15:30 - Primary briefing
18:00 - Dinner
19:00 - Tour of Facility 'A'
21:00 - Bed

He looked at his watch,12:45, over an hour until he met his mysterious host. He half-heartedly tried the door. Locked, just as he'd expected. He pulled out a silver Nokia 6210i with sellotape holding the back on. No signal.

'Chrissetti' sighed, nothing to do for over an hour other than unpack and get settled so he unpacked the bags, hung up his clothes and sat reading  a book for close to an hour, eventually there was a click at the door,

"Please come with me to the auditorium, Mr Chrissetti, Dr Bishop is about to begin his speech."

The auditorium was a fairly large room, in the centre of the institute dome wth seating for over 200 people, at current it was occupied by about twenty, filling up, as these events always do, from the back first. Not wanting to stand out, Chris sat on the second from back row next to a brunette woman who was chatting quietly to a man wearing glasses and a short beard with a woolly hat.

"Hello, my name's Chris Tre- Chrissetti for this, any idea what all this is about?"

The brunette turned to face him and Chrissetti was pleasantly surprised how pretty she was

"Gayer for this trip, and this pretty man here is Dann, we know about as much as you, still Tom Biship should be starting in the next...5 minutes."

A scientist started to walk down the row of seats handing out name tags like the one he was wearing

"Sorry, I forgot to hand these out earlier, can you wear them at all times, please? 'Raa' said, handing name tags to Gayer, Dann and Chrissetti.

Over the next few minutes, more than 30 more people entered from the back of the hall, all wearing their nametags. One of the last was a spitting image of a younger Patrick Stewart, the guy who played Captain Picard! And to top it off his name badge identified him as 'Trekky'. He was holding the hand of a girl no older than 14 who was clearly grating on his nerves.

"Ok, ok, new game! I'll say a word and you--"

"Just be quiet! You've been doing this for two hours now, 'Muffs'!" Trekky said, angrily.

Eventually the lights dimmed and the curtains on stage opened to show a projected image of the Earth, slowly rotating

"Everything you know is a lie." A voice from offstage said, amplified by the room's speakers. An older man, with grey hair and glasses made his way onto the stage wearing a suit and tie, sudden;y Chris felt extremely underdressed in a  T-shirt and jeans. "A lie which has been forced so thoroughly into the masses subconcious, that nobody dares to question it.

"This!" He said, jabbing a finger at the rotating Earth "Is the centre of it! Not the Earth itself but the shape of it!. We do not live on a blue ball hurtling through the cosmos but upon the back of a great disk, thousands of miles wide. This is what the Earth looks like!"

The familiar ball of the Earth slowly unfurled itself outwards from the North Pole, leaving the Arctic circle in the centre, the continents and oceans arranged themselves around it in a circular shape, the Antarctic ice stretched itself around the oceans like a cradle

The ice wall! Chris thought back to the strange expression on his letter.

"What I am about to tell you has been proven by the great Professor Samuel Birley Rowbotham, after whom this very institute is christened. He wandered the isles of Britain until his death in 1884, proving through easily repeatable experimentation why the Earth is flat."

Chris raised and eyebrow and sat back in his seat in wry amusement, the man was a nut! He listened for close to an hour about Flat Earth physics. How gravity didn't exist and was created by a 'universal Accelerator' pushing up on the Earth, how water was held in by an ice wall possibly hundreds of miles thick, how the sun and moon were 32mile objects circling over the equator until:

"Oh come on!" A guy from closer to the front yelled "You don't expect us to actually believe this bullshit, do you? Hello, we've got pictures of the Earth from space!"

"Which neatly brings me to my next point." Tom said "NASA, ESA, the Argentine Space Agency, the Australian Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation, The Bangladesh Space Research and Remote Sensing Organization, The Belgian Institute for Space Aeronomy, etcetera, etcetera are all lies, dedicated in a mix of covert military research, producing fake space videos and pictures, faking rocket launches and, most importantly, lining the pockets of the creators.

"'What could be gained from lying about the earth?' you say? Space travel is impossible because it would require infinite energy to keep it accelerating against the UA. When NASA realised this, they had 2 choices, either admit to billions of US dollars wasted into a fruitless research or save face and fake it, investing the government grants into secret military endeavors and advanced image manipulation technology. As well as making a hefty profit. Soon, other 'space agencies' joined the scam.

"Could it be done? Of course, only a few people need ever know about the biggest deception in the history of mankind..."

After an hour, the screen at the rear o the room was filled with diagrams elaborating on specifics of Flat Earth Physics, Tom Bishop had ranted and shot down any question or argument so well the entire argument was becoming plausible to Chrissetti, there were still problems, the 'sinking ship' effect which kept getting brought up even though Tom had explained it already, multiple times.

"So, how exactly does this even affect us?" A bored looking dark-haired man named 'Midnight' shouted out.

"I'll explain more during the 3.30 briefing, until then, I'm sure you'd like to get something to eat, the cafeteria is out the back doors and down the corridor on the left, all free of course!"

The room began to file out loudly, everyone discussing Tom's 'revelation' Chris picked up a few of the comments

"The people who believe this are idiots!""What a crock of shit""Besides his poor logic and thinking skills, I have no other evidence to prove that he is a retard.
BUT he cannot DISPROVE that he is a retard.""you know what my real problem is??? PEOPLE BELIEVE THERE IS A FLAT EARTH!!!""tom bishop: You are a dick. A dick who talks sh!t, that's right, you fulfill two lower functions. hahahahaha"

But amongst the obvious disregard of the theory, there were some actually discussing it seriously, Chris turned to the brunette he had sat next to

"What do you make of it?"

"i reckon he's got a good point! he's swayed me!" Gayer said, with a grin on her face

"Seriously?"

"You'll never know for sure!" She said cryptically while Dann laughed.

The cafeteria was a room almost as big as the main auditorium and was filled with cheap plastic covered MDF tables and scientists and guests eating around them on cheap plastic black chairs, along the far wall was the serving hatch staffed by the pale guardians of the food, clad in reed and white striped garbs they ladled out the food, without changing their expression. Just like every other cafeteria worker on the planet, Round or Flat. Chrissetti, Gayer and Dann stood in the queue and waited for the line to take them to the hatch.

"baked potato, Spaghetti Bolognase, Lasagne or Faggots and veg." The older woman in red and white said without a trace of emotion.

"Erm, Spaghetti, please." Chris said, as a plate of it was placed on his tray.

"I hope you don't mind," Gayer said, with her now-familiar cheeky grin "But from now on, your name is Chris Spaghetti!"

The newly christened Chris Spaghetti laughed "Yeah sure! Not one hundred per-cent sure why I got the name 'chrissetti' anyway, you two know how you got yours?"

"Sure," Dann said "Dann's my screen name on loads of websites, or variations of it."

"Same here, well General Gayer to be exact."

"but I..." Chris stopped and thought of the extension of his Myspace "Forward slash Chrissetti. So he's picked us off the internet, but there are millions of people on the internet, why us?"

"random draw? who knows, maybe he'll tell us this afternoon."

"He's got a lot of explaining to do in the next two and a half hours!"

"Thank you for returning." Tom started, once most of the crowd had returned tothe auditorium, many of the seats, however, were now bare, their owners either returned to the rooms or simply left the Rowbotham institute altogether and booked a hotel in Stanley "Firstly, although I've explained how the Earth works as a flat disk accelerating upwards at 9.8m/s^2 but how does this affect you? Why, and how were you all picked for this mind-expanding trip?

"My colleagues and I have spent hours on purpose-built internet forums designed to encourage free-scientific thinking and conspiracy theories. All of you have visited and joined at least five of them, scattered across the 'Net. You've also used the name you currently have pinned to your chest on at least one of these sites.

"So why are you here? For me to try and convince you the world is flat? No." Tom took a breath "The purpose of the next few weeks, if you want the opportunity, is to prove to yourself we live on a Disk.

"I will personally be leading an exploration team out onto the Ice Wall, or 'Antarctica' to find the end of the world. The aim is very simple, to find the edge, or to find the other side of Antarctica.
The test is very simple, too. From our starting point, the geographic South Pole should be 850 miles away, then a further 800 or so miles to the other side. During this time the hours of daylight should be consistent with a RE model.
If, after 1,000 miles on the ice this turns out to be true, then I will concede the rotundity of the earth, but if FE is correct we should experience less and less daylight until we are in absolute darkness."

The room descended into rumbling murmurs as everyone began to discuss the 'mission'.

"If," Tom continued, making himself heard above the rumble "after hearing of the expedition fully, you do not wish to embark, then feel free to leave and collect return flight tickets to your respective destinations from reception. Ideally, of the 250 people invited here, I'm looking for 15 to actually go out on the ice."

As a sudden rush of people for the exit filed past Chris, he became determined to hear Tom Bishop's plan out until the end.

Hey, even if we don't see the 'end of the world', an opportunity like this, to go out across the Antarctic tundra doesn't turn up every day.

"Hey, Tom!" A man called Raist called out "Remind us again why can't use our real names? What's with the stupid code names?"

Tom smiled grimly "Well..."

"I believe that an Agent from NASA or one of numerous other space agencies has gotten wind of the Rowbotham institute, and would very much like to prevent this mission from going ahead. None of you will use your real names in case the agent is one of those selected for the operation through the internet, this way we protect your identity and you from possible blackmail. Nobody in this building knows your real name and the internet sites where you were found have long-since been deleted."

The screen behind Tom changed to the start of a slide-show presentation, showing a military-grade helicopter

"We will be taking a helicopter to a base already established in secret near the Ronne ice Shelf" The helicopter gave way to 2 maps of the Antarctic, the first being a Flat Earth map the second being a standard map of Antarctica. "Here we will make final preparations to the equipment, and is the very last chance to pull out.

"It's also where the groups will be finalised. For the expedition we will be travelling across the ice in custom-built snow-cars, designed to accomodate three people and tow a huge weight capacity. The other two people in your group will be closer to you than your family if you want to survive." Tom started speakin in a much more sombre tone than usual "make no mistake, a cock-up out there may mean not only your own death, but the other two in your group. Look after them."

There was a gasp from the audience as the image changed to their 'custom vehicles'. Flame-red trucks with bulky, spike-rimmed tyres with a bull-bar thick enough to crumble a house. A roof-rack supported a large red storage pod and a row of powerful halogen lights. behind the huge cabin was an equally large 'pick-up' style rear. The thing looked absolutely enormous, and that was before you considered the three-carriage sled-train attached to the rear, each as tall as the top of the car's wheel-arches.

Tom chuckled "Ah yes, our pride and joy, the ToyotaLand Rover Ice Cruiser, each one cost roughly US$500,000 and they're capable of towing their three passengers and close to a tonne of supplies at a consistent 50MPH and in relative comfort. One of the sled carriages on each car will be a fuel transporter enough to take the cars almost 2,500miles, twice what we expect to be needed. Red for high visibility, of course."

Tom spent most of the afternoon going over details of the expedition, how CB radios would be used to keep in touch, contingency plans should any of the Ice Cruisers break down, the high-calorie food which they would be eating guilt-free, stressing that there would be no drugs or alcohol on the trip at all, other than for medicinal purposes, and:

"If the Institute's research is true, then near the 'rim' of the Earth will be absolutely dark, other than starlight, the sun cannot illuminate much further than the explored regions of the Antarctic, that goes for the Moon too, so chances are, we'll have a maximum visibility of about 100m with the Car's lights. Get into trouble more than about three times that distance and chances are that we'll never see you again. So, I've bent your ears for 2 and a half hours, I think it's time for dinner, then those o you wishing to take part in the expedition will be given a guided tour of 'facility A' of the Rowbotham Institute."

OOC: sorry for the short post, will add some more this weekend

As people began to file out of the hall, Chrissetti overheard a heated argument between the Patrick Stewart look-alike and the young girl who was with him.

"Listen, 'Trekky' I am going on this trip whether you want me to or not! I was selected the same as you, so I get to go!"

"Muffs! You're thirteen years old! This expedition is going to be tough enough for the few people in that room are physically fit. I am not having my little sister dying on some stupid trip led by a madman!"

The girl grunted in frustration and stormed off towards the canteen, pushing through those already in the corridor.

"Muffs! Wait!" At this point he must have noticed Chrissetti, Gayer and Dann listening in "hey, I know this is really rude but could you please keep an eye on her? make sure she doesn't go running off? I do my best but..."

"hey man, don't sweat it, we'll look after her, won't we guys?"

Chrissetti and gayer exchanged a look that could only be described as 'a Look'

"Yeah, s'pose so, we'll be your eyes and ears."

Dinner was a choice off sandwiches, crisps and fruit, out of which Chrissetti picked a couple of ham and cheese, some salted crisps and an orange

"Hardly a feast" He grumbled, only half-jokingly. As promised, they kept a collective eye on the teenager angrily sitting apart from her brother, munching through a packet of crisps.

"He's right though." Chrissetti whispered "There's no way Tom can let her go out there. Even if we're not going to be plunged into eternal night, I wouldn't be thrilled taking someone so young out into the Antarctic."

"Those Ice Cruisers looked fairly tough, providing she stays in or just immediately around the car, she should be fine." Dann replied, holding a sandwich which was in danger of dripping mayonnaise down his front.

"Well, as long as Trekky doesn't expect us to be looking after her out on the ice. I'm not having that kind of responsibility put on my shoulders!" Gayer said.

The after lunch tour took them throughout the dome of the facility and all the various laboratories contained within. The 'Photographic Interpretation' lab was devoted to proving the early NASA pictures to be fake with 'varying success'. The 'Universal Acceleration Analysis' Lab had five scientists attempting to establish the exact nature of the force which accelerated the Earth upwards to create the feeling of gravity and a sealed lab bearing only the numbers '101'.

They also saw an example of one of the IceCruisers and it's toboggan train behind. It was an imposing sight and Chrissetti suddenly couldn't wait to be behind the wheels of one of them.

"How long 'til we know who we'll be driving with?" Chris asked Chaltier, their tour-guide.

"When you arrive at the Ice-Facility. We don't yet know who's going to back out."

"And how long will that be?"

"Tomorrow evening the group agreeing to the expedition will board the helicopter to take them to the facility."

"Tomorrow?!" Gayer spluttered "I thought we'd have time to prepare, to  sort equipment out?"

2Tomorrow you'll be provided with sufficient kit to keep you relatively comfortable until you reach the ice Base. We'll sort the rest of your stuff out there."

They were escorted back to their rooms and had the doors locked again.

"It's for your own protection" Chaltier had assured him when Chris inquired "We still don't know if there's a spy here."

"So it's for your protection, then?!" Chris had snapped back "To protect your damn stupid research!"

"This is an aspect of the plan, yes but--"

"Then damn well say so! We've all been brought out here with no prior warning as to what's going on, we're forced to swallow some bullshit about the world being flat and now you lock us in our rooms and don't even have the freaking decency to tell the truth about why!"

"Forced?" Chaltier replied calmly but evidently with effort, "The Rowbotham Institute has offered a fully paid chance-of a lifetime opportunity to see what millions, no billions won't. we've tried to make your brief stay as comfortable as possible and you accuse us of being unreasonable?"

"I--!" Chris started, but the truth was that Chaltier was right "Guess you're right..." he finished lamely. Chaltier shot him an I know look and he took off smugly.

"Self-righteous bastard." he muttered, when he was sure he was out of earshot.

"Ungrateful prick." A voice shouted back.

Chris spent the rest of the evening in a foul mood, too pissed off to bother reading the latest bestselling Clarkson book he'd brought with him and instead spent the evening pacing the claustrophobic room grumbling and wishing he was home.

****

The following morning he was awakened by the sound of someone knocking his door lightly. Cursing his guest he pulled himself groggily out of the modest bed, scratched, stretched and made his way to the door. Forgetting that the door had been locked last night, he was unsurprised to find that he could open it.

"Yeah, whadyawant?" He yawned.

"it is 8am and i have been instructed to give you your program for the day, breakfast is at 9 and, erm...can you please get dressed?"

Chris looked down and sure enough he was standing talking to a man in a lab-coat stark naked.

"Thought you'd appreciate the view!" He snapped, took the paper and slammed the door in Chaltier's face.

Breakfast passed with a barely contained vibe of excitement, the program for the day had decreed that basic equipment would be distributed after breakfast and by lunchtime they'd be boarding helicopters for the Antarct-- sorry, Icewall. By the time Chris arrived, the hall was just about filling up but he didn't recognise anyone, Gayer, Dann and Trekky must have still been in bed.

he took himself a croissant, a strawberry yoghurt and a copy of a British newspaper, unfortunately in the absence of a proper broadsheet newspaper he was stuck with The Sun who had devoted their entire front page to David and Victoria Beckham.

Settling down alone at one of the long tables he flipped the paper over to page 3 and briefly admired the topless brunette just as a voice from over his shoulder said:

"Wish that was me in there?"

"You can guarantee that the moment your eyes flick across a naked girl there'll be someone there to see you" Chris laughed as gayer and Dann sat down.

"You guys just slightly excited about this?"

"Yeah, I think the whole thing's completely insane but it should be a unique experience."

"That's for sure, I just can't wait to get behind the wheel of those cars!" Gayer said

"OK, people, listen up!" A scientist announced and waited for the various conversations to die down. "This afternoon you'll be heading out to the Antarctic Base where you'll receive most of your equipment, in the mean time you'll need a thermal jacket, trousers, underwear, hat, and socks. A pair of walking boots, which have been walked in, I know this sounds unhygenic but you do not want to be walking in new boots, not if you want to avoid blisters! Oh, and a pair of sunglasses. All these will be collected from the main auditorium."

Everyone moved for the door almost at once, it was then that Chris could tell just how many people had decided not to go on the trip, yesterday the corridors had been crammed with about two hundred people, now there barely 30. As they walked, Chris tried to recognise people, there was obviously, Gayer and Dann, Trekky was further ahead with Muffs, a dark haired sullen man he remembered as Midnight, a tall guy with medium length blonde hair called Raist, An older man who had clearly believed every one of Tom's words called Narcberry, A guy with wild hair who Chris could only recognise fro his nametag 'Gulliver'.

Behind him was a short man with black hair called Divito, A guy with longish brown hair called Diego Draw who was sneering and making loud comments that

"This whole excercise is a f*cking waste of time." He was saying to a bored looking man with glasses called Roundy, who in turn was trying to subtly catch the attention of TheEngineer.

No doubt he'd become familiar with the rest in time...

With equipment collected and equipped, the gaggle of explorers leaving the Rowbotham Institute resembled very well protected teddy Bears, padding everywhere turning simple movements and motions into a hilarious stiff-limbed waddle.

"Hey Chris!" Someone called, voice obscured and muffled by a thick scarf "Too much spaghetti?"

"Gayer, if that wasn't so predictable it would be funny!" He joked as she waddled up beside him, "You seen Dann? I thought he was all up for this trip?"

"He is I haven'--"

Suddenly, as they turned to see the big military-style troop carrier helicopters, they caught a glimpse of the beginning of a fight, two guys in the standard red Arctic gear facing off against someone in a blue coat and a smaller figure in pink.

"Muffs..." They both said together and jogged awkwardly over to the site of the argument.

"Do not raise your voice to me! I understand your concerns but your sister clearly wants to make this mission of discovery and I feel it would be unfair to--"

"People could die!" Trekky yelled at Tom Bishop in his blue coat "I will not expose my sister to that!"

"But I want to c--"

"She's 13, not out of school. You need consent from a parent or guardian. I know the law, Tom." Dann said calmly, a direct contrast to Trekky's anger.

"And I have it..." Tom announced

"What!?"

"When I sent the letters and tickets out, I made a special case in 'muffin-Queen's case and contacted your parents. I have her consent form here." he held out a piece of paper for him to read.

"Yeah see, I--"

"This is bull." He pulled his hood down in one sharp quick tug and stared the greying face of Tom Bishop in the eyes "Alright. But know this...whatever happens out there is your fault."

"Yay! does this mean I can com--"

"Shut up, Muffs." They all said as one.

After the high tensions on the ground, they were all relieved to board the military helicopter and strap into the utilitarian passenger area. It was a cramped room with seats arranged back-to back in rows, leaving just enough room to walk between the aisles.

"You guys strapped in back there?" A voice came over the intercom "OK, this is an eight-hour flight, give or take depending on the weather. I don't wanna hear any bitching about how bored you are, if you ju--"

There was an interruption broken by mutterings of 'ok, yep...sure' before the pilot came back on again. "Tom has asked if you could arrange yourself into nine groups of three and one two-group that Tom will join. Thanks." There was a click, the intercom went off. There was a click and the intercom came on. "Not until we've finished takeoff though, please."

As the twin rotor blades whirred into action, a cloud of dust was turned into a swirling, twisting maelstrom. The noise from the twin rotators was deafening and, if Chris was completely honest, just a little bit exciting. With a slight lurch the 12.1 tonne weight left the ground.

Now there was just the matter of entertaining themselves for an eight-hour flight.



<OOC: I'm aware that contra rotating helicopters do not usually have a flight range of 1000+ miles as it is from the Falklands to Antarctica, but let's just suspend our disbelief for a moment here and imagine it is a special variant designed by the Rowbotham Institute, ok?>
<OOC P.S. See, I do my homework!>

Less than an hour had passed and already the crew of the Rowbotham Helicopter were getting restless. Muffs had been threatened with lynching if she tried to start another of her inane games.

"I spy with my little eye somethi-- ow!" Muffs complained as a spare seatbelt clip hit her squarely in the forehead.

"Nice shot!"

It was amazing how quickly little groups and alliances had formed within the band of would-be explorers. In just half an hour, most people on board had settled with their team-mates for the upcoming trip, naturally Trekky had insisted Muffs be in his car but there very few who were willing to travel with the hyperactive thirteen year old, resulting in their car being the host for Dr Bishop.

"Fantastic, clowns to the left of me and bloody jokers to the right..." Trekky mumbled.

Chrissetti, Gayer and Dann decided they would be riding in one car together almost before they left the Falklands behind them. Only Trekky's insistence that one of them should ride with him and and Muffs had kept them from settling it on the asphalt landing pad. Diego looked pleased at having acquired a man simply named 'Z' in his car, along with an Arab possibly ironically called 'Saddam'.

"Hey, Chrissetti! Bet we get to the end of the world before you!" Diego sneered.

"Don't feel you need to stop when you get to the rim!" he replied testily.

"This is going to be a long trip." Sighed Gayer.

White wispy clouds lashed past the custom-built helicopter, with every one a small ripple of turbulence shook the passengers inside who, after six hours over featureless southern pacific had drained the conversation well, bored the hyperactive Muffs into sullen gloominess, locked Chrissetti and Diego into one long glowering contest. Gayer had stopped picking up subtle sexual innuendo in every sentence uttered.

"hey here's a point." Someone piped up, was his name Gulliver? "Why can't we see the edge of the world from this height? Look, there is clearly a horizon filled with nothing but ocean."

As if he'd declared there was a leprechaun on the side of the helicopter, everyone made a conscious effort t see out of the window and observe this perfectly ordinary phenomenon.

"I was wondering how long it would be until one of you asked that!" Tom chirped in over the intercom. "Air is not perfectly transparent, this is blatantly obvious when it is, for instance, foggy.
 The horizon that you see is a simple natural effect whereby the accumulated air opaqueness is built up until you can see no further. You can see much further the higher you go, surely this is further evidence to support Rowbotham's theory as air gets thinner the higher you go, so the less air there is to see through, so the further you can see."

"Bull! Look! I can see a line where the ocean meets the sky! Five year olds know this when they paint the sea!"

"So paintings by five-year olds are now scientific?" narcberry piped in, joining Tom Bishop's commentry "I'm just glad that the sun has decided not to show it's deadly radioactive wavy yellow lines recently!"

"...what?" Gulliver exclaimed, temporarily confounded by Narcberry's seemingly incoherent babblings.

"Look," Narcberry continued, determined to make his point understood, even at the cost of common sense "When a child paints the sun, it's always a yellow blob with wavy yellow lines coming out of it, right? Well where are they?"

"But that's ridiculou--"

"Another victory for the Flat Earth!" Narcberry declared.

"Also...dongs..." someone else muttered. It was clear to see that a perfectly reasonable conversation had now descended into mindless bickering with Tom Bishop randomly quoting from Rowbotham's theories, Gulliver yelling at narcberry, who was in turn ploughing on with his 'childish Round Earth' argument, which was in turn being ignored on account of everyone hurling abuse at everyone else.

"Reminds me of a message board I joined once..." Gayer said, before adding her own homo-erotic jokes and innuendo into the melting pot.

"What the flying frakk are you talking about?! The ocean's of the world do NOT float!" Gulliver shouted at Narcberry who had taken great pleasure for the last hour in drawing everyone into 'debating' his 'theory' that water floated when it was in...water... which somehow disproved the Round earth Theory. Chrissetti had cottoned on to Narcberry's leg-pulling very early and had sat back talking with Gayer for the last half of the heated argument, Dann had left his seat to go talk to someone called Raist and had been adamant that he go alone.

"So how long will you be living in Norway for?" Chris asked Gayer as someone tried to hold Gulliver back from punching Narcberry.

"Oh, just until my Uni course is over, then it's back to good ole Blighty!" She replied as Gulliver broke free and rushed at narcberry.

"You'll have to call in if you're ever in Birmingham" Chris said as narcberry landed a fierce right fist on Gulliver's jaw.

"Haha, yeah definitely, hit some pubs, get wasted and spend the evening with a trucker's penis in your ear!" She replied as Gulliver and Narcberry fell to the floor in a storm of flailing fists and elbows.

"I don't even want to ask!" Chris laughed and lifted his legs up as the brawling Gulliver and narberry rolled past.

"Hey guys!" The pilot called over the intercom "can you sit yourselves down back there, I'm coming into land and your movement is making it hard to balance our weight!"

Narcberry and Gulliver untangled themselves, wiped blood off their clothes and both muttered something about the other being 'extremely lucky'. Dann had reappeared from somewhere near the back of the 'copter with an awkward smile on his face.

"Where did you go?" Chris asked.

"Oh, erm, just to talk to somebody..." He replied, possibly a little too hastily

"Sure..." gayer said with a wink, "Nudge nudge wink wink, say-no-more..."

Everybody else found their way back to their seats and got themselves strapped in. Finally they'd be leaving this tin-can behind them. Out of the window, the first large icebergs fell into view, looking as small as sugar lumps from their unique vantage point. There was a cheer as the helicopter passed over what had to be the shore of the antarctic mainland.

"Less than half an hour 'til we arrive, guys!"

Thank God

Pure brilliant white stretched out towards infinity. Unbroken, unbounded and untamed, the only true wilderness left on the face of planet earth. The viewer turns from this magnificent vista, not that it truly ends, to see a dark shame looming over the virgin ice, descending to a square platform marked with a fading red 'H'. As it descended it threw up a violent, churning white storm of snow and ice forcing the observer to bring a gloved hand in front of his face.

Here he comes! the observer thought with genuine excitement The greatest living legend the cause has ever seen.

With a violent jolt the 12 tonne military style helicopter touched down on Terra Firma again, the twin rotor blades continued to rip through the air and the cloud of snow and ice while they were slowing down with a distinctive whhoop-whhoop-whhoop noise. Eventually the rotors stopped, the engine stopped whirring and...

the observer waited...

...and waited...

...

Eventually the doors burst open and two men fully equipped in Antarctic gear fell out slamming each other in the face with whatever body part happened to be nearest, they were followed by the rest of the inhabitants inside who were gleefully cheering the scene.

he's not there! He can't have cancelled! This is his dream! The Observer thought.

Suddenly, at that moment, the Observer's fears were halted as the front door of the helicopter opened and down stepped a supremely calm and serene Professor Thomas Bishop. The man. the legend.

Tom Bishop walked over to the man who had watched the helicopter's descent, shook hands spoke briefly before he pointed, Tom nodded and indicated the watcher should go ahead. At first it was not clear what Tom had been looking at, but gradually an image made itself seen through the white airborne snow. A large but squat dome protruded from the deathly pale landscape, though it's white and chrome colouration barely stained the pristine vista it was set against. Away from the main dome was a modern steel/aluminium shed about one and a half stories high, the massive sliding doors took up the entire length of the shed. Around the entire complex was a chain-link fence, which seemed pointless in the uninhabited Antarctic wilderness.

“Cut it out you two.” Tom said to Gulliver and Narcberry who broke apart from each other immediately “Welcome to SnowFox Station, a secondary complex of the Rowbotham Institute for Zetetic Science. It’s a short walk down but mind your step, the paths are slippery.”

Tom trudged off down the barely visible path, leaving the explorers to follow alone. He was right, the path had been compressed, cleared, frozen, thawed and frozen so many times it was like walking over a recently polished plane of glass covered with a thin sheet of icing sugar.

Chris couldn’t help laughing at the people in front of him waddling and sliding along the path, some slipping and falling on unfortunate parts of their anatomy;

“need a hand?” Chris asked one of the fallen.

“I can manage, thanks!” Gayer snapped, tried to get up, slipped again and finally accepted Chrissetti’s hand. “I could have managed, thank you very much!”

“Sure.” Chris replied with a roguish grin.

“Oh you can shut up, damn Brummie!” she joked, giving him a push that sent him on his ass. “Aw, need a hand?” She sang.

“Sore loser.”

“Oh wow,” Sneered a voice from behind them “We’ve been here five minutes and he can’t even reach the first checkpoint. Impressive.”

“Diego, you’re a twat, has anyone ever told you that?”

Eventually, accompanied by a whole range of swears and curses, the intrepid Flat Earth Explorers reached the entrance to the SnowFox facility, which up close bore more than a passing resemblance to the Stanley facility they’d just left. Tom Bishop stood next to the stranger from the landing pad.

“As I said, welcome to SnowFox, now please allow me to introduce my esteemed colleague here…”

"That can wait, Tom!" He said in a jolly voice, let's get in out of the cold!"

Tom concurred and the troop made their way into the SnowFox facility. Like the Stanley facility, SnowFox also had the red Flat Earth map symbol on the door, but next to it was another circular plaque, the Red Flat Earth symbol surrounded by a blue fox curling from the top-right of the circle clockwise to the top left, where it's head looked over the disc of the Earth. at the bottom of the circle, covering the spine of the fox was a red banner-style plaque proclaiming the word SnowFox in bright gold letters.

The inside of SnowFox was largely the same as the Stanley facility, apart from the roof being lower and did not have the fluorescent tubes lighting everything clinical-white, instead the building was lit much more subtly, using uplights and lights set back into grooves along the corridor walls. The floors were a sort of vinyl, plastic and judging by the way the snow they had trodden in was melting, it was probably heated. The large glass doors behind them closed and it was already obvious how much warmer it was inside.

"My codename for this mission is Dogplatter," Tom's colleague announced "I run the SnowFox facility along with sixteen volunteers and we've been working hard these last few days to get all the equipment ready and checked so that you'll be as equipped as possible when you set off out into the ice tomorrow morning. Until then, you each have a room loaded with your personal gear.

"This mission has two objectives; the first and most important being to locate the edge of the world, if indeed it exists," Dogplatter paused to let the snickers and derisive comments to die down "the second is to try and locate something that the Flat Earth community is divided  over the existence of..."

Dogplatter led the unlikely expeditioners into the main auditorium of SnowFox and Chrissetti was struck by just how much it resembled the Stanley room where Tom Bishop had ranted and raved about the rotundity, or lack thereof, of the Earth. Only here the ceiling was lower and it was definitely chillier. Dogplatter invited them to sit as he made his way to the stage.

"In the Flat Earth model, some believe there are three permanent natural 'satellites' of the Earth. The Sun, The Moon, and the shadow object. This is a dark object normally invisible to the inhabitants of Earth until it passes in front of the moon or the sun, causing moon phases and lunar eclipses, also balancing out the tides.

"Again, not all Flat Earth Proponents support this theory, but likewise, opinion is divided amongst proponents of the Shadow Object theory, some claim it has been in the Terran system since the formation of the disc, while others believe that it's irregular orbit can only be explained by it arriving much later in our skies.

"You know that the ice-wall stretches hundreds, possibly thousands of miles and that our inhabited Earth is a melted patch in the middle of it? Well some of us, myself included believe that the Shadow Object started 'life' in another inhabited oasis deep in the Ice Wall." A screen flickered to life behind Dogplatter showing the Earth in the middle of a massive collar of ice and out in the middle of the white nothingness, another, smaller Earth.

"The seconadary objective for this mission is to find the origin of the Shadow Object, the theorised sister-'world' to Earth, Cybele."

oh, God. This just gets sillier and sillier Chris thought

"Should we be on the lookout for leprechauns along the way?" Someone shouted, apparently Chris wasn't the only one who thought it was ridiculous.

"Sure, why not?" Dogplatter replied without skipping a beat "I hear they're attracted to Guuinness."

This raised a ripple of laughter as Dogplatter invited the guests to dinner in the canteen, a much anticipated lunch, a lunch at least 3 hours overdue, it was 8pm now but it was hard to tell as it was still light outside. God bless Antarctic summers.

The scene following Dogplatter's announcement was not dissimilar to the reaction following Tom Bishop's passionate rant where he declared the Earth to be a circle, a majority of people snickering or outright insulting the theory proposed by the speaker, a few reasonably arguing against it, and a couple of quiet ones silently agreeing with it. Chrissetti decided to just smile and leave the arguing until his belly was filled again.

Hopefully they'd have spaghetti.

Unlike the rest of the SnowFox facility, the dining hall was not a picture-perfect copy of the one at the Stanley facility. Round, wooden tables were arranged asymmetrically around the hall, laid out with tablecloths and cutlery in front of four wooden chairs upholstered with a blue suede-like material. The lighting matched the rest of the facility’s standard, white lights screened and shaded by having been set back into recesses in the walls. All in all it cumulated to create a pleasant atmosphere.

Gayer, Dann, Raist and Chrissetti sat themselves around a table next to one occupied by Trekky, Muffs and ‘Midnight’, someone, Chris had seen once or twice as just a glimpse of short, dark hair and permanently bored expression.

“So, what does everyone reckon then?” Dann said, addressing the two tables simultaneously “Crock of shit, or realistic, scientific, theoretic theory?”

“What? Do you mean do you believe there’s a mysterious Cybele out in the Antarctic tundra which happens to be the birth-place of a shadowy ‘anti-moon’?” Midnight  sighed “Of course it’s completely ridiculous.”

“Hey, how come if you think it’s stupid, you’re coming with us?” Muffs asked, to which Midnight simply shrugged and said;

“Something to do.” 

“Well, I happen to think it’s an interesting idea which deserves all the research it can get.” Gayer announced, eliciting looks of utter disbelief from the rest, even Muffs.

“For real?” Raist asked, reflecting the disbelief on his face.

“You’ll never know for sure,” She said, winking “Anyway, what’s for tea? I for one am starved!”

Dinner arrived in the form of pizzas of every type ever brought to mouth watering life in the ovens of the world, everything from plain cheese and tomato to slabs of bread loaded with just about everything edible on the planet. Four waiters swirled around the tables depositing the food on each of the tables and within seconds the flock of Italian food was being passed around, exchanged, swapped and given to every other table. People ate with one hand holding a slice of whatever pizza they had decided to enjoy while simultaneously holding a tray containing another, unwanted one to the next table along. Despite only having three pizzas on the table initially, Chrissetti had five individual slices of totally different food on his plate.

"Fantastic idea, this!" Muffs squealed, her plate resembling some sort of Tate Modern art piece, with pizza stacked eight or nine high. Trekky just sighed in resignation.

As the pizza was consumed, the tumulus sea of conversation ebbed and flowed over the room, Chrissetti was only able to grasp the odd sentence as it bobbed into audible range before sinking again. The sense of tension and excitement was thicker than the cheese on Muff’s pizza.

The mood was only interrupted when ‘Z’ swaggered over to the table and leaned on the back of Gayer’s chair;

“hey, listen babe, why don’t you ditch  these two losers,” Indicating Dann and Chris “And come ride in with us?

“hey, if we get bored out there you could always ride on us!” He said, chuckling. Gayer stayed calm, refusing to rise to his bait,

“Well, I would… But I’d hate to take Diego’s fun away!” Gayer replied, levelly. Z’s lips curled into a snarl and was about to retort when a mighty crash distracted him from the other side of the room. Gulliver and Narcberry were at it again….

After lunch, the explorers were shown to their quarters for the night. Unlike the spacious rooms in Stanley, the SnowFox accommodation was a tiny bedroom/living room and a shower and toilet room. In the corner of the room was a pile of cardboard boxes , making the already small room seem claustrophobic. Each of the boxes, of differing sizes had the Rowbotham Institute’s red UN logo printed on the side as well as a white sticker describing the contents and their uses. Out of curiosity Chris picked up and opened the largest box. Inside was an article of clothing that would have looked at home on a 60’s Sci-fi film. A bright orange one piece coat with a hood. The box marked it as an ‘Arctelligent Extreme Thermal Survival Suit’.

Why are we going to need this? he thought, I was warm enough in the other jacket

One by one, he examined the boxes, uncovering ‘Night Vision and echolocation binoculars’ which were fun to use, looking through them in echolocation mode, turned the room utterly black with the geometry of the walls and objects mapped out like a black-and-white Tron. A whole box was full of ‘heating bricks’, oblong blocks with a metal strip folded over one corner. ‘pull strip to begin brick’s self heating mechanism’ said the label on each of them.

One of his favourite finds in the boxes turned out to be contained in the smallest box. Inside was a metal rod that tapered to a point at one end. The box called it an ‘Arcticelligent Omni-tool’ which was a fancy name for essentially a swiss-army-knife with much more high-tech adaptions. Chris toyed around with torch, laser pointer, screwdriver, ice-pick, distress beacon, manipulator, soldering iron, heating element, knife, and strangely, toothpick. Each adaptation folded out of what had appeared to be seamless metal.

With everything packed away there was little point in staying up so Chrissetti settled down to sleep, wincing at the crinkly sheets, like the ones you got at hospitals. here he was, in the Antarctic, just hours away from the most exciting journey of his life. He wondered whether the others felt the same.



Saddam was restless in the tiny compartment of the SnowFox facility. He had slept better in T-72 tanks. To say he had felt uneasy moving to the West after he had served in his more famous namesake's army was an understatement.

The cold rain pattered on the young Iraqi's head. New York in Winter had a special way of dealing with foreigners from warmer climes, it made them wish they'd never left. Not that he had any choice in that respect, it was that or face an extremely uncertain future in post-Hussein Iraq, so he'd jumped at the American offer of conditional asylum. Whatever those conditions turned out to be.

His apartment was hardly a shining beacon of western development. He had to step over a passed-out drunk every night up to a poky two-room apartment that was frequently being burgled, on fire, being shot at, or all three at once. His time in the army had ensured that the living room/bedroom/kitchen and bathroom were kept in immaculate, if spartan conditions. The room contained everything he needed. Running water, a fridge and cooker, a small, black and white television, a sofabed and the high-spec computer his new American Boss had given him.

Saddam logged in and mused, as he always did, what a fantastically easy job he had been given. Scour the internet for pages relating to any of the words on this list:

Flat Earth
Samuel Rowbotham
Doctor Thomas Bishop
Zetetic Astronomy
Christian Catholic Apostolic Church
Alexander Dowie,
Samuel Shenton
Charles K. Johnson
Shadow Object Theory

So far he had joined and posted on 45 online messageboards and kept a log of their activities, he had visited 1,276 sites mentioning anything on the list and regularly checked them for updates.

So far he had been given little clue as to what, specifically he was looking for,,, or what the Americans wanted him to do. they just paid him his modest salary and told him to 'keep us informed'

Chris woke with a start in the morning darkness from the most bizzarre dream he'd had in months. As ridiculous as it sounded, he had dreamed he was part of a team of explorers setting out across the Antarctic desert to find the edge of the world.

What day was it? Tuesday? Wednesday? He lay in the darkness trying to place the exact date, hoping it was Tuesday, because he had a project cost report to be finished by Wednesday and he couldn't remember even starting on it.

With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed and scratched himself, letting out a wide yawn, unseen in the blacknes. He stumbled over to the lightswitch and clicked it on.

Oh God.

This wasn't his poky Birmingham flat, it wasn't his bed, it wasn't his light switch, and it wasn't his pile of cardboard boxes filled with supplies. His dream had been real, and so was the SnowFox facility. He grabbed his mobile phone and checked the time. 8:25.

Heh, I'd have been late for work, anyway he thought with an inward smile.

Thirty-five minutes passed while he showered, got changed into a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt and tried the door. Locked. Like yesterday, he'd have to wait until Chaltier or someone opened the door.


Back in England, a cost-report sat unfinished on Chrissetti's desk. 

At ten O clock there was a rattle at the door and Dogplatter poked a head into Chrissetti's room.

"Good Morning!" He said cheerfully "Just to let you know, breakfast is now being served in the dining room and at eleven the final briefing will take place in the vehicle sheds out the side."

"We finally get to drive the Ice Cruisers, then?" Chrissetti asked eagerly.

"You will be later, we need to go over all about how they work, where everything connects and what not to do."

"All the boring stuff, eh?"

"All the boring stuff that will keep you alive. Anyway, enjoy breakfast and I'll see you in a little while."

Dogplatterwalked away towards the next room down the corridor., Chrissetti followed him out to find the small corridor was full of bleary eyed explorers resenting being woken, one of thse with bright, keen eyes was Dann who seemed positively excited to be awake but just before  he could call out to him, Dann zipped into a room and slammed the door behind him.

"Yo, Chris Spaghetti!" Called a voice from behind him Chris smiled as he turned to see Gayer strolling towards him, looking fabulous desipte the unflattering tracksuit and hastily tied-back hair.

"Heya, Gayer, let's get some breakfast, I don't know about you but I'm starving."

"Should we find Dann first?" She asked

"erm, he'll probably be a while"