Paul the Penguin, a 7-foot-tall mascot, appears onstage accompanied by two friends in beach clothes. They warn him that the sun will turn his skin red but that if he douses himself in Eucerin sunblock, he can play outdoors as long as he likes. After the show, the preschoolers line up once again, giggling and squealing, to receive free trial-sized bottles of Eucerin, courtesy of the cosmetic company that makes it. As they grab their gifts and file out, they look like giggling children anywhere -- even though they're not.

The festive setting, complete with beach balls sporting Eucerin's name in big black letters, belies the grim reason they have all gathered. Like the "duck-and-cover" classroom exercises during the Cuban missile crisis, and Los Angeles' smog alerts in the 1980s, which cautioned students not to go outside when pollution levels were high, today's presentation is teaching a generation of kids in the southern tip of Chile how to accept the unacceptable -- how to survive under the expanding ozone hole the rest of the world has created.

"It's very sad," says Eduardo Mortiric, a 15-year-old with pale skin and cheeks so sun-kissed it looks like he has rouge on. "I can't go outside and ride my bike, play soccer anymore or go walking. I burn easily."

Welcome to life in Punta Arenas in the ozone depletion age.

This port city of 120,000 people, at 53 degrees south latitude, has always been known more for its proximity to other places -- five hours from Patagonia's Torres del Paine, an hour from a penguin colony, a boat ride to Antarctica -- than as a destination in its own right. But as ground zero of a global ecological catastrophe, Punta Arenas is becoming famous, or infamous, as the city that has squatted directly under the gaping hole in the earth's ozone layer. What's happening down here on the edge of nowhere is an uncontrolled science experiment: exposing human beings in their natural habitat to long-term doses of potentially deadly ultraviolet radiation.

It may take years before the results are in, before we know the full toll in vision problems and skin cancers, illness and death. Until now the rest of the world has watched from afar, complacent in the conviction that it has largely addressed the problem. But it might be a good idea to pay closer attention to what happens down here, because scientists fear that -- in the future -- regions farther from the poles could be hit by a thinning of the ozone layer.

Contradictions abound in this small city. On many days in September and October -- the spring months when the ozone layer is at its thinnest -- Punta Arenas officials warn residents to stay inside between 11 a.m. and 3 p.m. or risk a severe sunburn. Yet most don't listen. The regional health minister in charge of disseminating this advice to the public appears at official events with a deep tan from a recent skiing trip. People here complain about the ecological disaster the rest of the world has inflicted on them -- then they complain that foreign visitors draw too much attention to the problem. Doctors warn patients of the need to wear protective hats sturdy enough to withstand the powerful wind down here -- but know that the gear must be attractive enough so fashion-minded Chileans will actually wear them. Officials acknowledge the critical need to address the problem -- but claim they won't be able to afford $180,000 for an ozone- and radiation-measuring instrument after Punta Arenas scientists return the only one they have later this month to the institute in Brazil from which they borrowed it.

And Punta Arenas is where Beiersdorf, a German cosmetics company, markets itself by sponsoring a play for preschoolers featuring an adorable penguin who slathers the firm's sunblock over himself from head to web.