I was maybe sixteen years old when I first read H. P. Lovecraft's atmospheric and terrifying short story "At the Mountains of Madness." Unique amongst his fiction, it's set in Antarctica, which I thought was an odd choice; just about everything else I'd read by him was set somewhere in his home territory of New England. But as I read, I realized what a good decision that was. There's something inherently alien about the southernmost continent that makes it the perfect place for a spooky story. Lovecraft writes:
The last lap of the voyage was vivid and fancy-stirring, great barren peaks of mystery looming up constantly against the west as the low northern sun of noon or the still lower horizon-grazing southern sun of midnight poured its hazy reddish rays over the white snow, bluish ice and water lanes, and black bits of exposed granite slope. Through the desolate summits swept raging intermittent gusts of the terrible antarctic wind, whose cadences sometimes held vague suggestions of a wild and half-sentient musical piping, with notes extending over a wide range, and which for some subconscious mnemonic reason seemed to me disquieting and even dimly terrible.
Of course, being a Lovecraft story, the intrepid band of geologists and paleontologists who are the main characters make discoveries in Antarctica that very quickly lead them to regret ever going there. Of the two who survive to the very end, one is clearly headed for a padded cell and a jacket with extra-long sleeves, and the other only marginally better-off.
Happy endings were never Lovecraft's forte.
The topic comes up because of a link sent to me by a dear friend and loyal reader of Skeptophilia about a peculiar discovery by some scientists working on a different kind of antarctic research -- astrophysics. The project is called ANITA -- the Antarctic Impulsive Transient Antenna -- and is designed to detect neutrinos, those ghostly, fast-moving particles that were predicted by Wolfgang Pauli in 1930 based on the fact that momentum and spin seemed not to be conserved in beta decay, so there must be an additional undetected particle to (so to speak) make the equation balance. Even knowing that it must be there, it still took twelve more years to detect it directly, because it almost never interacts with matter; neutrinos can (and do) pass all the way through the Earth unimpeded.
This is why the experiment is sited in such a remote place. Signals from actual neutrino capture are so rare that if you put your detection apparatus in an area with lots of human-created electromagnetic noise, you'd never see them.
"You have a billion neutrinos passing through your thumbnail at any moment, but neutrinos don’t really interact," said Stephanie Wissel, of Pennsylvania State University, who leads the ANITA project. "So, this is the double-edged sword problem. If we detect them, it means they have traveled all this way without interacting with anything else."- It's an auto-transmitter left over from an abandoned Nazi base. Or... maybe... one that isn't abandoned. *meaningful eyebrow raise*
- It's a relay station operated by the Illuminati. One person recommended that the ANITA team get the hell out for their safety's sake, because "these people don't like anyone knowing of their existence."
- It's a leaking signal from inside the "hollow Earth." So there must be an opening into the interior nearby, which the ANITA team should focus on finding.
- Something about the Schumann Resonance that was about ten paragraphs long, and which I tried unsuccessfully to paraphrase. The best I can come up with is "weird cosmic shit is happening and the Earth is responding."
- Aliens. (You knew they'd come up.)
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