The town of Nome, situated in Western Alaska, was a relative hub for even smaller communities in the region, but in winter was utterly cut off from… nearly everywhere. The harbour iced over in winter, there were no roads connecting it anywhere else, the nearest railroad line was nearly 700 miles (1000+ kilometres) away in Nenana. Air travel was still new at the time and planes couldn’t handle the inclement winter weather.

In 1924, the community had a single doctor and a few nurses who served approximately 10 000 people, including large Eskimo populations in the area (the town itself had a population of roughly 1000 people - bear in mind how few children lived in this community when you see the casualty counts). He had realized his diphtheria vaccine stock was expired and had ordered more from mainland USA months earlier. When it failed to arrive on the final ship of the season, he was a little concerned, but diphtheria was fairly rare, and he figured he’d just restock in the spring.

Of all the rotten luck, January 1925 was when a diphtheria outbreak hit the region.

There was a scramble, in the mainland USA as well as Alaska, to find a way to get the vaccine to this town in the middle of winter. There were attempts to fly a vaccine supply over, but the planes were grounded by storms. This was part of the United States in the 1920s. There was no way to get there.

Except by sled dogs, running the vaccine from that train station in Nenana, 674 miles away. Over 1000 kilometres away, in the dead of winter in Alaska, by 20 mushers (mostly native Athabaskans) and 150 sled dogs running in relay, switching off at tiny villages and rest stations along the way. It was bitterly cold. As in, -85°F (-60°C) at the coldest. There were blizzards, hurricane force winds, and at some points visibility was so poor the men couldn’t see their dogs in front of them.

No man or beast should have been out in that. You freeze in seconds if you’re not moving. Multiple dogs died from being run so hard in such cold weather. Mushers grappled with hypothermia and frostbite. One needed hot water poured over his frozen hands because he was frozen to his sled. Another’s face was black with frostbite. Some strapped themselves up and lead their packs when their lead dogs collapsed.

This relay team traveled 674 miles in 5.5 days. Togo and his owner, Leonhard Seppala, did by far the longest and most dangerous run, travelling over 260 miles (about 420 kilometres) including the initial travel to his pickup spot. Gunnar Kaasen and his lead dog, Balto, did the final 53 miles (85 kilometres) into Nome, where they were greeted as heroes.

Prior to the vaccine arriving in Nome, 5-7 children officially died of diphtheria, with dozens of confirmed cases who may well have died without treatment - but it’s suspected the surrounding Indigenous communities were much harder hit, with numbers impossible to confirm.

When you think that this happened less than 100 years ago, how desperate this community was for a vaccine, how much these mushers risked and lost to get it to this town as fast as they possibly could…

MATTJESS + Jessica teasing Matt about his headwear choices

The Defenders S01E03, 'Worst Behavior '

Eddie Munson for M❤️

For the uninitiated, the "Maxwell's Demon" thought experiment says that you expend energy to create order from chaos, while you become more disordered in the process.

Interestingly, Steve doesn’t even speak in the 59-second video, but appears to give viewers a comforting presence as he enters the outdoors shot and “offers them” a hot drink.

And many of the comments thanked Steve for offering them this safe space, with one person writing: “As a trans man, I felt this to my core. I took the breath with you then started bawling. Thank you.”

“The man who is a staple of my childhood didn’t say a single word and it brought me to tears. Steve, thank you. I don’t know where we go from here,” somebody else wrote.

Another popular comment reads: “He didn’t say A WORD and said everything at the same time. This man should be guarded at all costs.”

“Neither of my dads checked in on me today. But you did Steve. Thank you,” one more acknowledged.

“So much responsibility on Steve’s hands to make sure we are okay. We need to make sure he’s doing okay too. I mean I’m not doing great, but he’s still looking after the kids he raised,” somebody else added.

Steve's whole page is just him asking the viewer how they are doing and then remaining silent while "listening" very intently. The comments are then filled with people updating him on how they are.

This is why the post-election post hit so hard for folks.

He didn't ask how we are doing.

He didn't need to.

His Tiktok channel? All his videos are 59 seconds long.

Which means he cannot monetize them. Which means he makes zero dollars from this wonderful thing he does and he just does this to make us all feel like he's still looking out for us.