The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 165

"It's so warm in here."

Sloane stood in the center of the spacious tent, pressing her boots gently into the floor mat. It was soft and radiated a subtle heat. She glanced down; the surface of the mat was lined with a fine microfleece that yielded slightly under her weight.

Diego was already crouched on the floor. He patted the mat with his hand, then went completely prone, pressing his cheek against the fabric. "It's heated! This thing is actually heated! Professor Harrison, you gotta feel this!"

Professor Harrison didn't even spare him a glance. "It's an automated thermal-insulated moisture mat. It holds its temperature even at minus forty degrees. What's there to lose your mind over?"

"How is this not worth losing my mind over?" Diego refused to peel himself off the floor. "My apartment back in Argentina didn't even have heating this good."

Josh slid open a hidden compartment on the side of the vehicle's chassis and pulled out a set of folding tables and chairs. He pressed a latch, and with a sharp *click*, the table locked firmly into place on the floor. He gave the legs a test shake. It didn't budge an inch.

"Alright, enough," Josh said, shooting Diego a look. "Get up. I need space to unpack."

Diego reluctantly peeled himself off the ground. When he turned around, Josh had already folded down two sets of bunk beds from the reinforced wall panels. The bedsheets were a soft, light gray with a brushed flannel texture. Sloane reached out to touch her pillow, her fingertips brushing against a small, embroidered bump. It was a tiny penguin, tilting its head in a charmingly goofy way.

She couldn't help but smile.

Diego hurried over. "What's so funny, Sloane?"

Sloane flipped the pillow around to show him. Diego took one look at it, glanced over at the identical penguin on his own pillow, and went silent for a second. "...Right. Antarctic exclusive merchandise."

"You guys get settled. I'm going to log today's telemetry data."

Professor Harrison was already seated at the table, propping up his tablet and typing away. The blue glow of the screen reflected off his glasses. He looked entirely oblivious to the chatter around him.

Sloane sat on the edge of her bed for a moment before standing back up and walking over to the corner of the tent.

A compact projector was set up there. Its lens auto-focused, casting a crisp, square image onto the stark white canvas wall. It was playing an old black-and-white movie; she didn't recognize the title.

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