On the fifth morning, Polly went to look for animals.
The Atacama is not empty. But everything that lives here lives at the edge of what is possible.
The first thing Polly found was a small black beetle on a rock. This is the fog beetle. It climbs up rocks during the rare morning fog. It tilts forward. Drops of water collect on its back. They run into its mouth. It does not drink any other water its whole life.
Further on, a small gecko. It hunts at night. It sleeps under rocks during the day. It can absorb water from the air through its skin. It can go six months without drinking.
A small mouse lives in burrows. It eats seeds. It gets its water from condensation and from the food it digests.
No flies. No grass. No flowers in this part.
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The fog beetle has been doing this for 50 million years.
A black vulture passed overhead.
Polly walked back to the residencia. A truck had brought groceries from Antofagasta. Oranges. Apples. Large containers of bottled water.
None of these things grow here. Even the shower water is trucked in.
Polly thought about the fog beetle. And about the bottled water. And about how humans had decided to build an observatory in a place this hostile, just to look at light from far-away planets.
