The permafrost of our souls

Kara could hear everything the assistants said through her earpiece, and through the wall monitor, she saw what was happening in the auditorium and on stage. The girl sat in her chair, legs crossed, inwardly relieved they’d allowed her to present without a skirt and heels like the others. She glanced at her nervously jiggling foot and mentally rehearsed her words. The speech was prepared in advance, but confidence couldn’t be prepped like that. Kara stood up, adjusted her trousers, and looked into the mirror, where little was visible in the gloom. She leaned closer to the frameless glass, seeing fear in her own green eyes. She carefully rubbed her eyelids to avoid smudging her makeup and dispel that grimace, then touched her cold, pale cheek with her fingertips. A voice came through the earpiece, summoning her to the stage. The girl stepped behind the thick, dusty curtain, trying to pretend she wasn’t momentarily blinded by the spotlights that heated the air like small ovens. She walked to the podium, forcing a smile at the person introducing her. It seemed he said something else, but she didn’t catch it, struggling to gather her scattered thoughts. “These algae,”—Kara turned after a brief introduction towards the presentation screen. The slide showed the mountain where she’d gotten lost—“need to be properly tested before mass distribution, but from personal experience, I can say they saved my life. A couple of pieces were enough to keep me going almost a whole day. We hypothesize they contain high levels of plant protein and essential micronutrients for sustaining life. Next week, my team and I return to the site, and only then can we confirm their secret.” Kara was nearly done with the presentation when she finally located the source of her unease. Those blue eyes, burning into her. She shook her head, dismissing the thought, but it was definitely him. Sitting in the front row, not hiding, calmly enduring Kara’s anxious stare. The girl ripped a few sentences from her closing remarks, deeming them unimportant, and vanished immediately into the cool darkness. “Everything okay?” asked a guy, clutching a tablet, trying to catch up to the girl heading briskly for the buffet. “Afraid they’ll take all the snacks?” “Sod off,” Kara snapped, pouring herself water and gulping it down. She turned to the assistant without even thinking such a word could escape her aimed at him. “Shouldn’t only company staff be here?” “And competitors, to show off,” the guy sighed, remembering. “Invites went out to others too. Shareholders, of course. Potential investors and shareholders. Loads of people, basically.” “Right,” Kara exhaled wearily and headed for the black door. Pushing the heavy door open, she stumbled onto a small balcony with metal railings. Pulling a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, she peered inside to check the count, then drew one out and lit it. The important presentation was already fading from her mind, pushed aside by a long-forgotten image. Quiet footsteps sounded behind her. Kara turned, blowing smoke into the man’s face. They stood in silence for several seconds, studying each other’s faces, but the girl broke first, feeling her heart clench. She pulled him tightly to her, feeling his hands on her back. “Hope you’re not here for my head,” Kara disentangled herself and flicked ash onto the concrete. She took a drag, trying to get used to the man’s new look and accept that they’d both changed. “No,” James shook his head, watching the smoke dissipate in the cool evening air. “And clearly not to ask how I’m doing,” Kara smirked, tapping her cigarette carefully with her index finger. “Spit it out.” “To settle the score,” the man leaned on the railing, hiding his face from her. “You’re not going back there for nothing, are you? For your brother.” “Think you can help me find him?” the girl still had her back to him, watching the cigarette’s glowing tip. “It’s been twenty years,” Bucky looked at Kara, but she didn’t turn around. “That’s long enough for anything to fade. You know something.” “Maybe I do,” Kara turned to face him, offering a sad smile. “You know yourself, we’ve got plenty of reasons not to trust each other.”