The Cruise to the End of the World

By Craig Cormick

Antarctica is promoted as the last unspoiled continent on earth – attracting thousands of tourists on cruise ships each you. But at what point is it apparent that the continent is no longer unspoiled? And what happens on such a cruise ship when the outside world drops out of contact, after news of a devastating virus rampaging around the globe was received? And when you discover many of the passengers are determined not to ever go back home? A story of strange world of cruise ships and the stranger world of the near future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Craig Cormick
• Release date: Sep 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9798215026755

Craig Cormick

Craig Cormick is one of Australia’s leading science communicators, with over 30 years’ experience. He is the former President of the Australian Science Communicators, an award-winning author of more than 25 books, and is widely published in research journals, including those of Nature and Cell. He specialises in communicating complex science issues and has taught writing and public relations at universities in Australia and conducted communication workshops worldwide.

Book preview

This is the way the world ends, Not with a bang but a whimper.

-  The Hollow Men, by T.S. Eliot

The Cruise to the End of the World

Isaw my first departure today. The guy had been standing just along from me at the railing, photographing the sunset. It wasn’t the most spectacular we had seen, but it was nice enough. He turned his camera around for the obligatory Antarctic selfie with the wide glow of orange across the ice in the background. He held his camera close, to stare at the display. And I mean he really stared hard at it, like he was memorising it or something. Then he did something I thought a bit curious – that had me watching him a bit closer – he took off his beanie and lay it on the deck at his feet and gently placed his camera on top of it. Really carefully. Then he just stood up and leaned out over the railing and rolled right over it and fell into the ocean below.

Less than one minute’s survival in these icy dark waters, we’d been warned.

I reached out over the railing like I could actually do something and stared at the water where he’d fallen in, the splash of his entry already lost in the wake of the ship. He was gone.

I looked around for someone to call out to – but it had just been the two of us on the side deck. And I knew the ship had long since given up on stopping and searching fruitlessly when somebody went overboard.

A person standing on a deck Description automatically generated with low confidence

So we just carried on into the gathering darkness.

THIS WAS BILLED AS the voyage of a lifetime. The last chance to see the Antarctic ice before it was declared off limits to all visitors. A refuge for science was the international agreement. Even if a lot of those scientists were looking for rare-earths and bio-applications.

Of course, I jumped at the opportunity when I was offered a position as guest lecturer. Even if it was unpaid. One last chance to see the icy continent for me too.

God knows how I ended up on the shortlist. Something to do with the previous preferred applicant dropping out at the last minute, and no one else being available at such short notice. So there I was with the two other speakers, sitting in a small room in a hotel in Montevideo, Uruguay, being briefed about the job. We’d had to prepare about half a dozen presentations of Antarctic relevance – one for every day we’d be at sea – supported with 3D animation.

The company guy, Hal, who was briefing us, was a huge bear of a man, with a deep-set frown. American. Though he could have been Canadian. ‘The passengers are always referred to as guests,’ he told us. ‘Say passengers and you’ll be answering to Corporate.’

I thought of pointing out that he had just said it, but kept that to myself. I certainly didn’t want to be responsible for anybody having to answer to Corporate! Particularly if it was me.

‘And the guests are always right, right?’ he said.

My fellow presenters, Walter and Jacquie, nodded their heads. I followed. Walter was a Kiwi who had spent twenty years or more working as a researcher in Antarctica and Jacquie was a toughened American who had been working on the large US base at McMurdo when its mini reactor overheated. I wondered how much radiation she’d gotten. That whole part of Antarctica was off limits now. For at least several hundred years. The heat of the meltdown had destroyed huge chunks of the Ross Ice Shelf. I’d seen the figures somewhere. A twenty-year leap in the depletion of the many glaciers that had previously had their progress slowed by the ice shelf.

‘The guests are on this voyage because they can afford to be on this voyage, you understand me?’ Hal said. ‘They come from all walks of life, so don’t try and stereotype them, because you will invariably be wrong.’

Walter put his hand up. ‘What line do we take when they disagree with the science?’ Walter had done cruises like this before.

‘I’ll tell you,’ said Hal, pointing a finger at Walter. A finger clearly meant for all of us. ‘They want to be scientists too. They want to know things. But don’t upset them if they have their own theories about things that you don’t agree with.’

Walter nodded his head. He must have worked in government policy somewhere at some time I thought to