Chapter Text
Far to the north, on Russia’s Arctic coast, sat a small research station. The station was small, almost derelict in appearance, but it stood mighty against the frozen winds, it’s red air traffic lights blinking ever so ominously in the blizzard. The station had one sole resident, left over from a much larger research team from a time long past. This sole resident was Tundra Man, a rather plain looking, ice based robot master. His armor was a muted purple with grey accents; he had robust, treaded boots and cylindrical cuffs around his wrists. Small ice crystals covered his knees, parts of his cuffs, and one sat right where his forehead would be had he taken his helmet off. Built by the internationally acclaimed roboticist Dr. Cossack, Tundra Man’s job was to monitor the Arctic circle. Though he was completely isolated at the research station, Tundra certainly wasn’t bored.
In a small living space under the station’s lab, Tundra had an old tv, a shelf to its side, a worn out couch, and a freezer filled to the brim with E Cans. To any human, such a space might feel like some sort of prison, but to Tundra, it was home. This is where he would come after a long day of work gathering climate data to relax. Every night was the same; he’d switch on the tv, pull out a movie, and pop it into the DVD player.
Tundra’s movie library was quite large, and at a fist glance, contained all sorts of movies, but upon closer inspection, one could see that every movie on the shelf was about or had something to do with figure skating and ice skating as a whole. “Ice Dreams”, “Ice Princess” (which had been one Kalinka suggested), “The Cutting Edge”, “The Cutting Edge 2”, “The Cutting Edge 3” (gotta complete the trilogy), “Blades of Glory”, recordings of every previous Winter Olympics, and many more. Tundra had watched every single disk multiple times, never getting bored of any of them; he could recite the scripts to every single one without help.
It wasn’t the stories or the characters that captivated Tundra, though, it was skating. How the actors moved across the ice, how elegantly (or in the case of “Blades of Glory”, how crazy) the actors performed each trick. Tundra had wanted to emulate this kind of movement since the day he had seen the Winter Olympics figure skating championships on his creator’s tv. Since then, Tundra had wanted nothing more than to skate professionally.
Tundra Man’s job didn’t allow for much free time. Keeping the climate database updated by the hour was a lot of work. Checking temperatures, monitoring weather patterns, and keeping an eye on sea level fluctuation took up most of his day. When he did have free time, he spent it down in his room, with the tv on, and making what he considered to be his magnum opus, his very own pair of ice skates. Days when the weather outside was unfavorable were his favorite days to work on his skates, since he could do so without having to worry about missing work (who in their right mind would expect him to go out into some awful blizzard?).
As the howling died down outside, Tundra stood up from the floor and picked up his very rudimentary, but definitely viable skates. Today was the day he’d finally go out on the ice and skate. Before now, he had always tried skating with his treaded boots, but he never picked up the speed he wanted. Climbing the metal staircase up to the ground floor, Tundra took one quick survey of the research lab, just to make sure nothing was out of place, and took off outside. With how cold it was, any body of water that wasn’t the ocean was bound to be frozen solid.
It wasn’t long before Tundra had found a frozen lake. Expansive and frozen all the way through, this lake was perfect for skating. Taking out some electrical tape, Tundra sat down to put on his skates. He had no way of attaching them to his feet without the tape, so once he was done, his boots looked like someone had tried to wrap them up like a mummy.
Tundra took two clumsy steps towards the lake, the makeshift blades (that he may or may not have made out of scrap metal) were wobbly. While the tape kept them attached to his boots, it didn’t do much for stability. It was no matter to Tundra, though, as he was already too far with his plan to turn back now. Once on the ice, Tundra took a careful step forward and pushed off of the bank.
The feeling was incredible. He was really doing it— he was really skating! He picks up speed and does a lap around the lake. Barren trees lined one end while large boulders at the other. Skating past both the trees and rocks and coming back over to where he had started, Tundra attempts a few of the tricks he had seen on tv. His first trick, he had decided, would be the axel jump.
This attempt doesn’t go as he had imagined it, in fact, it's the opposite. Tundra crashes onto the ice and skids a couple meters before coming to a stop. He carefully stands himself back up, rubbing his side. This was his first time skating and he had chosen a particular difficult move, and it's not like he was programmed with figure skating skills either, so of course it didn’t play out as perfectly as it did in his mind.
“It’s no matter, I’ll just have to practice some more.”
Tundra didn’t say this to anyone in particular, in fact he hadn’t said anything to anyone in several months, so hearing his own voice reassure himself was sort of nice. Maybe, as he skated, he could talk out loud some more, maybe he’d come up with some really cool catchphrases.
After a few hours of skating, trying out tricks he had seen, and trying out new catchphrases, he had decided to head on back to the station. He had taken off the skates from his boots and made the trek back home. Once inside, the sound of the computer terminals beeping caught his attention. Had he been out long enough for someone to notice? Tundra drops the skates and rushes over, opening up text communication with whoever was trying to contact him. While Tundra would’ve preferred calling or video chatting (two features that were unavailable since phone lines didn’t run this far out and the internet wasn’t good enough for video), he was thankful this time around. On the screen before him were five messages from Dr. Cossack, and from what Tundra could gather, they increased in annoyance with each subsequent message.
Dr. Cossack: Tundra, submit the latest climate report. -5:15pm
Dr. Cossack: Tundra, you’re late with your climate report, please submit. -5:43pm
Dr. Cossack: I know you aren’t having internet problems, the messages say “sent”. -6:23pm
Dr. Cossack: Kalinka says that if they “sent”, that means you received them. -6:25pm
Dr. Cossack: Tundra Man respond! -6:37pm
That last message had been sent a minute ago so right now was the optimal time to respond. Tundra Man braces himself for the worst and replies.
Tundra: Hey, sorry, I got caught up with something else. -6:39pm
Almost immediately, Tundra gets a response.
Dr. Cossack: Submit the report, then we can continue. -6:39pm
Tundra looks over at the second monitor and cringes a bit. Much of the data was missing, making it incomplete. He shouldn’t have stayed out as long as he did.
Tundra: I can’t submit it, it’s unfinished. -6:45pm
Dr. Cossack: What do you mean it is unfinished? You have the data, right? Plug in the numbers and the computer does the rest. -6:48pm
Tundra pulls back from the keyboard for a second. He didn’t have the data, because he didn’t collect it when he was supposed to. He had been skating, something that wasn’t his job, and therefore would not be a valid excuse as to why there wasn’t any data. He couldn’t fudge those numbers either. Someone was paying Dr. Cossack for accurate climate data, which meant Dr. Cossack was relying on him for accurate measurements, and on a side note, fudging data was incredibly unscientific. He’d have to tell Dr. Cossack the truth. As he reaches this revelation, the terminal beeps again.
Dr. Cossack: Tundra? -6:58pm
Tundra: I don’t have the data. -6:59pm
Dr. Cossack: Why don’t you have the data? Did the station’s equipment fail? -7:00pm
Tundra: No, I forgot to collect it. -7:01pm
Tundra doesn’t get a fast response and the feeling of dread sets in. What was Dr. Cossack thinking right now? What if he was deciding on decommissioning him? What would he do then?! His thoughts are put to rest by Dr. Cossack’s next message.
Dr. Cossack: Tundra Man, we all make mistakes, but please try not to do this in the future. You are a Cossack, we pride ourselves on professionalism and top quality work, do not forget this. -7:15pm
Dr. Cossack: Also, turn in what you have, just so we can keep an accurate, chronological record of reports. -7:15pm
Tundra Man wastes no time sending the report over to Dr. Cossack.
Dr. Cossack: Thank you, and please, focus on your tasks. -7:17pm
Tundra: I’ll do my best not to disappoint you, sir! Thank you for this second chance. -7:18pm
Pushing away from the terminal, Tundra sighs in relief. Dr. Cossack was a strict man and he hadn’t expected to have gotten off so easily. He glances over his shoulder at the skates he had left by the door. There wouldn’t be any time for that now, not with all the research he had to do. He walks over and picks up the blades, taking them down to his room and sliding them under the couch. He couldn’t bear to look at them now. After so much effort, it was all… all for nothing.