The white silence of the tundra

Dear Delyara, I work the night desk at an isolated geothermal power station three hours outside the city. There is nothing outside my window but black volcanic rock and endless, freezing snow. I took this job to think, to find my voice, to understand what my philosophy degree was actually for. But the silence out here isn't spiritual; it’s a terrifying, predatory vacuum. I look at the pressure gauges and the digital monitors, and I realize I have no desires left. I don't want a career, I don't want a relationship, I don't want the city. I am just a ghost monitoring hot water in the dark, fading into the white landscape until I disappear completely.