The sun broke across the now-blinding horizon, streaming through the few windows located in the base. The snow scattered by the now near-constant wind glittered as it was backlit by the much-welcome sun. The days had been getting shorter and shorter, leaving the researchers with just a few hours of precious daylight before the sun again faded into the night. Luckily enough, though, despite the recent increase in power usage hadn't weakened the generators. This time of year, they couldn't fly in the specialist who designed the testy machines, and despite the stockpiled fuel and supplies, most would prefer not to have the station at twenty degrees day and night.

Leslie lifted his head up from the desk he had been sitting at for forty eight hours straight, not stopping his constant vigil of the footage captured for his precious research. The penguins barely moved in the cold, but he had spent the past two days trying to find a pattern in the seemingly random movements. That was, after all, what he had been sent to research. Not individual survival as he had wanted, but herd survival that was so brain-meltingly simple, he could literally just look it up on google. But he had to create proof that all data found was reliable, so here he was. The other scientists could be heard conversing down in the atrium, but the lack of data led to stress, and consequently, hermitism.

He scribbled furiously, noticing a small, unusual, repeating pattern. There it was again! And again! He blinked, checking the timestamps to record the observation, and realized with a shaking sigh, the camera had stopped working. The last few minutes of film had been repeating for- he checked the computer's report- an hour. An hour! And now he would have to fix it, thus disrupting herd activity and making all data for the next week invalid. Leaving him with only the boring, repetitive footage he had captured before. To analyze. For the third or fourth time. Leslie struggled not to let frustrated sobs wrack his body, instead digging his short nails into his palm.

If he had he only just kept his application at Betzvich Research Base, then he could have avoided this whole scenario. He could have been rejected, and right about now, he could be coiled up in front of a fire in New York City, grading the papers of his eager and adoring students. He could actually be appreciated for his talents right about now, rather than sitting in his cramped room, attempting to type a non-biased thesis when he already knew the answer. Leslie blinked his eyes slowly, attempting to focus on said thesis. He heard a knock on the door, but didn't bother turning around, instead falling sharply into his desk, murmuring only, "Stupid penguins..." before drifting into a deep, calming sleep, just as the sun itself.