The transfer to the Duluth field office was punishment. He’d corrected a senior senator’s claim about “record heatwaves” by publicly showing that, statistically, the last three summers were within a standard deviation of the 1990s mean. Facts, he’d thought. The senator’s office thought “insubordination.” So, two weeks before winter, Marcus found himself in a rental house outside a town called Two Harbors, Minnesota. Population: 3,600.
He opened his laptop. He deleted the old paper. Then he started a new file.
She shook her head slowly, then stood up. She took his gloved hand and pulled him toward the frozen pond behind her house. “That’s just what the calendar says,” she muttered.
At least thirteen. But ask again in April.