The start of my Last Shift

I work in the South Pole.

I'm aware that sounds exciting, and it truly is, but it's a difficult job with taxing hours. We were sent to the middle of Antarctica, with a thousand miles of snow and ice on all sides. We worked a solid 7to5 and with the lack of recreation, we typically do 18 hour days. However, we do have slow, satellite wifi, which is what keeps me sane during the long days. Regardless, all this wasn't the problem. The problem was the sheer atmosphere of… oppression. The whole place didn' t feel right.

Most of the facility is subterranean with covered heaters atop the roof and an entrance into a cement stairwell. The bunker is what you'd expect: grey, concrete square with men and women's bunking areas (and a few couples rooms), a large bathroom facility with shower and toilet stalls, plus 3 labs and a fully stocked cafeteria, all with no windows. There was also a medical bay, and two rooms with couches (for therapy). After the double section entrance was the rec room, it had a pool table and bar, the wall was notty pine wood panelling like from the 1970s. The rooms were all attached by a long, dingy hallway, including 2 offices with desks and chairs (spent most of my time there). Atop the station was an observation deck, reachable with a ladder, with windows where we could see and hear the outdoors, but we usually only went up to smoke since it was nearly as cold as the outside. The whole place was poorly lit. Florescent lights and a few lamps in corners, but overall it looked like a dingy-green, underground, cement hell.

Outside is exactly what you would expect from Antarctica. Snow for hundreds of miles in all directions. If you have a fear of open water, it feels like that, except you have to walk in it.

I was a little surprised as to why they invited so many on this particular expedition. There were 12 of us total, usually 6 would suffice. All professionals in our fields. However, the range of work each of us did was surprising. Typically, it would be a singular field of study to accomplish a common goal, but on this expedition there were several different professions.

The first was an older, Finnish gentlemen, a medical doctor, who was skilled in healing injuries in frozen climates. The next was a physicist who really was as surprised as us to be in the south pole, for their work is often theoretical and when in practice requires a team in and of itself. The next two were a British husband and wife team, both geologists. There were three men in their 30s for maintenance and driving, specialized in sub-zero conditions and masters in any repair field. Also, there was biologist, a young black lady who wore her hair in a bun and kept her lab coat on at all times inside; she was all work and no fun.

Then there were even two therapists. Yes, two therapists. The first is what you'd expect: a middle aged lady with blonde bangs and a clipboard, always wearing a warm smile. The other… well, he was a tall, lanky fellow. He was gaunt and his hair was jet black. Honestly, I had no idea why he would be a therapist, I myself was intimidated to even say hi to him. I never saw anyone join him in therapy unless he specifically asked them. I usually tried to avoid him.

There was another man who I assumed was a cook, until I saw we had to make our own meals. He was an odd, mousy looking fellow. He didn't speak to anyone, and when I tried he would simply ignore me. I maintained that he would be my favorite person on this expedition, since he kept 100% to himself.

Me? I was the chaplain. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. There are half a dozen professionals here and they need a chaplain? Well, I didn't think it made sense, but when I was contacted by the organization funding the trip I didn't argue. They were offering a lot of money, and in my line of work that is a rarity.

The expedition was to be 6 months and we were to each conduct specific experiments. I don't know what the others were assigned, but I was to journal on the religious implications of the expedition, and provide any council for all the other participants on the trip, of any sect or faith. The council assignment I didn't have a problem with, but the journalling? That's the kind of thing college freshman journal on in Theology 101. Either way, I was getting paid, so I sucked it up and spent the rest of my free time downloading movies and games to pass the long hours in between counseling.

Surprisingly, a lot of people came to me for religious discussion. I won over the maintenance guy's approval when I cracked open a beer with them and talked Catholicism on the old, red rec room couch (I'm a Protestant minister so they were a little stand offish at first). We became fast friends and even though I couldn't bless them or give confession, I think it helped ease stress to feel like they could disclose matters of faith as well as just have fun conversation.

Either way, I got along well with everyone after enough time. The physicist was a staunch atheist so we played pranks on each other frequently. I would hide his laptop out of easy reach blaring "Jesus Take The Wheel" and he would wake me up half the days with "No Church In The Wild." I considered him my second best friend in the compound (even though that song did give me chills when I thought about how far away we were from civilization).

My "best friend" was the odd man. He was always around the rec room when I was and he never spoke. He wore an orange hoodie and jeans indoors, and always seemed like he was drinking alone at the dimly lit, makeshift bar. I thought nothing of it since our schedules were all different, and I could absolutely condone drinking yourself senseless in a place like this.

It was lonely most days. We did our own thing at our own stations, often eating lunch there (frozen meals or MREs usually). I did sped quite some time talking with the doctor. He was a Buddhist, so we spent many mornings meditating in his medical station under the buzzing florescent lights. He said that the place gave him an odd feeling. It was hard to be centered here in this cement brick, buried in the snow.