By the time he drove through the campus’s only cleared entrance Jake felt sweaty beneath his heavy sweater and coat, his back ached, and he was certain his palms were going to blister from the shoveling he’d done, despite his leather gloves. But the clouds had blown away and the sun was shining brightly out of a crystalline blue sky. The campus was eerily quiet and empty, covered in white. Only half of the parking lot nearest Jake’s building had been plowed out; the rest was covered with mountainous piles of snow that were hardening into rock-solid ice. With his wool cap pulled over his ears and his lined car coat zipped to his throat, Jake mushed his way across the nearly empty lot toward the astronomy building. Nobody else was in sight.

Jake was scheduled to meet with the three graduate students who were assisting him on his proposal for the next Mars lander; then he had his regular lecture class in the afternoon.

Inside, the building seemed deserted, and somebody had posted a garish ALL CLASSES CANCELED notice on the bulletin board. Big black stenciled letters on sunshine yellow paper. An anonymous graffitist had drawn a smiley face in the lower right corner of the sheet and scrawled Hooray! along its edge.

I should have checked my e-mail before I left the apartment, Jake berated himself. The university must have sent out a notice.

All classes canceled, Jake said to himself. Great. But my meeting with the Mars probe grad students is still on. At least, as far as I’m concerned.

Jake’s office felt chilly once he’d hung his coat on the back of the door. They’re saving on fuel, he thought. They don’t expect anybody to come in on a day like this so they’re keeping the thermostat dialed down.

No classes. Wondering if his grad students would show up anyway, Jake sat carefully in his desk chair, planting his booted feet firmly so it only rolled a foot or so. He checked his phone: no messages. Then he powered up his desktop computer. Just the usual spam, some university announcements. And a message from his grad students: Snowed in. See you first thing next week. Okay?

Jake knew he didn’t have any recourse. They weren’t coming in. Probably having a snowball fight on the dorm’s parking lot. I got here through the snow but they’re not coming in. Dedicated seekers of knowledge, the three of them.