Cold. Arid. Lifeless. The Alaskan tundra was truly unforgiving. Agent Harris shivered despite the heavy parka he wore. There was no civilization for hundreds of miles, only bare, icy earth.

The tiny way-station Harris was currently settled in was not nearly insulated enough to stop the piercing wind. It had no heating, no electricity, not even a fireplace, and the weathered wooden walls let screaming shards of the gale through. It was better than watching for the Russians completely exposed to the elements, though, so he couldn’t complain too much.

There was no form of entertainment to occupy him, no bed, no kitchen. Only a mostly frozen bottle of water and a few frosty ration bars, a single plain wooden chair, a stiff cot, a flickering oil lamp, and a window with terrifyingly thick glass that wobbled and warped in its frame. Harris didn’t mind. This way, he couldn’t get distracted.

The measurable infinity of the tundra yawned out from the little waystation, the pale grey sky blending into the pale grey ice of the horizon and creating a great sphere of impenetrable chill. Sometimes, Harris wondered if he was in a snow globe, nothing more than a flickering light in a tiny shack amongst the ice and snow.

Then again, people in snow globes didn’t have to wait out here for days watching for a secret Russian invasion.

“Teddy, no!” Mom cried, lunging after our little golden doodle as he snuck past us and into the storage room.

Teddy, as usual too blissfully stupid to realize what he was doing wrong, skidded and slipped on the concrete floor, his nails scrabbling for purchase. He failed and slammed into one of the towers of cardboard boxes that dominated the storage room. It wobbled ominously.

“Teddy, get over here,” I said, hoping my calmer voice would convince him to get out before something fell.

Instead, he slipped again as he climbed to his paws, and fell back against the already teetering tower of boxes and plastic containers.

Mom and I both screamed as everything began to fall, rushing forward to try and catch the boxes before they hit the ground. Teddy yelped and slipped through our feet as he tried to escape. I tripped over him, falling onto my face and failing miserably at catching the box in front of me.

Eventually, the dust settled. Several of the boxes had burst open, scattering clothes and books everywhere. Teddy was now watching us from the doorway, wagging his tail stupidly as he watched us get to our feet.

“Teddy, you idiot,” Mom groaned, before turning and starting to pack up the boxes. She paused, and picked up a nearby shirt. “Hey, here’s the blouse I was looking for.”

I sighed and started to pack up the books.