The Tower of Mount Everest

Another six months passes by as Lattimer continues his assault on Mount Everest. Slowly but surely, she gives way to his inexorable advances, as he blows out huge sections of rock, drills massive tunnels, and gouges out passageways for a tram within the Japanese Couloir of the mountain, all the while bandaging the gaping, water-bleeding wounds with alloy composite. But by no means is Mount Everest the sole victim of this onslaught.

Los Angeles

Jim Johnson and his secretary have been working all day and into the night trying to reconcile the impossible. He is a very desperate man who has just made a crucial phone call. The person on the other end of the line quickly dispels any lingering doubts Johnson may have harbored regarding his ultimate financial fate. He has lost Terra I, his spaceships, all his money, and all his dreams.

“Mr. Johnson?” Martha asks, “Are you going to be all right?” Johnson has just hung up the phone and is staring straight ahead as if he was looking into an abyss. He is silent. Deep in thought. Deeply troubled thought. Martha comes into his office, stops, and looks at him.

“Mr. Johnson?” she asks again in a sweet low voice, obviously concerned. “Is everything all right?”

He sits, stone faced. Suddenly he glances at her. “I’m afraid Martha, that we may have just run out of options.” She covers her mouth with one hand and gasps. Johnson continues, “Why don’t you go ahead and take the rest of the day off. I’ll close up after a while.”

“Mr. Johnson,” she says, “Can I get you something, should I call someone?”

He glances back at her, with a thin, twisted smile. “Don’t worry Martha. I’m not going to do anything drastic. I’m not the dramatic type. I’ll probably just sit here for a while and reflect, maybe get drunk on the bottle of bourbon I have in this drawer.”

“Oh, Mr. Johnson,” she pleads, “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

He glances back at her. “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. Turn the light off on the way out, ok? Good evening, Martha!” His voice has a note of finality to it.

Martha turns away and walks out of the office, her hands on her cheeks, barely able to hold back the tears. She shuts the door and walks quickly down the hallway. Johnson can hear her bawling, even through his closed office door. He hears the elevator doors chime as she enters it, still sobbing. The doors shut, and there is silence. Johnson sits like a stone in the dark for what seems like an eternity. He opens up his middle desk drawer and slowly pulls out a 38 caliber revolver...

As Martha pushes through the heavy glass doors and into the street she turns to take one last look at Johnson’s second floor office window. She gasps in horror as a brief flash of light fills the window, followed by a sickening blast.

“Mr. Snyder”, says his secretary, “Richard Treinwood is on the phone.”

“Put him through,” Snyder responds. “Hey Richard, what can I do for you, today?” he says with vibrant enthusiasm.

“Did you hear about Jim Johnson?” Treinwood asks, subdued.

“Yeah, I did,” Snyder replies. “A shame ain’t it? Some people just can’t take the heat can they?”

“Snyder,” Treinwood says, “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

“Hey, we didn’t kill him. He did. This is business, Treinwood. You play rough; sometimes you play dirty. But if you can’t take the heat, you get out of the kitchen. You can’t tell me Johnson didn’t know how to play dirty too... “

“That may well be, Snyder,” Treinwood interrupts, “but this... this is too much, even for me!”

Snyder is silent for a moment, then, responds, “So what do you want me to do? Dig him up and slap him around and say hey Johnson, big boys don’t act like this?”

Treinwood explodes, “OH SHUT UP SNYDER, YOU POMPOUS ASS! Don’t you have even the slightest regard for your fellow man?”

Snyder sighs, “whatever you say, Richard. Listen, I think we should send flowers or something. Can you give my secretary any information on where to send them?”

It has been six months since Johnson’s untimely demise. Now Lattimer is facing a crisis of his own. Blasting and cutting out tunnels for the city of Lower New Everest has created its own set of problems. The interior of the mountain is interlaced with fissures containing veins of ice. Lattimer’s crew has inadvertently exposed some of these veins, and as everybody knows, ice melts above 32 degrees Farenheight!

“What the hell is going on up there, Lattimer!?” Snyder barks through his cell phone. He receives a crackled, distorted response in return.

“Mr. Snyder?”

“Who is this?” Snyder demands.

“This is Jose, Mr. Snyder.”

“Where is Lattimer? I want to speak with Lattimer!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Snyder,” Jose responds, “but Dr. Lattimer is tied up at the moment.”

Snyder is furious, “I don’t care if he’s tied up with baling wire! Get him on this phone and do it now!” The only returning sound is the crackling of the static. “Do you hear me, Jose?” Snyder demands. “Get him on the phone... NOW!” The crackling continues. “Jose? Jose? Damn!” Snyder snaps the cell phone shut.

“Who was that, Jose?” Lattimer asks.

“It was Snyder, boss. He’s not too happy right now. He wants to know what’s going on up here. I pretended the phone went out.”

“Well,” Lattimer says, “sooner or later he’s going to find out about this loose ceiling. I just hope we can get it straightened out before then.”

“Me too, boss. I sure don’t want to be around if he gets up here and it’s still messed up.”

Lattimer yells at one of the construction workers, “Hey Jackie, get some more heat up there will you? We need to get the alloy composite to set up as quickly as possible before any more loose veins of ice break through.” The worker waves and nods his acknowledgement.

“How far back do you think these ice veins run boss?” Jose asks.

“I don’t know, Jose. There are some things you just can’t take into account, no matter how well you do your homework. I sure didn’t figure on the heat from the shaft melting anything. How soon can they get that drywall back up, Jose?”

“It should be done by the end of the day, boss,” Jose says.

“And painted?” Lattimer asks.

“That too,” Jose says.

“How are the tram moorings holding up, Jose?” Lattimer asks.

Lattimer is referring to the tram towers that have been placed into the giant, avalanche-prone gully called the Japanese Couloir, where the second tram from Lower New Everest will work its way straight up the north face to the future site of Upper New Everest. The crew works assiduously to keep the gully as clear of snow and loose debris as possible. Avalanches are not an option...not up here.

“They seem to be stable, boss,” Jose says. “No shifting of any kind since they were put in last week.”

“Good,” Lattimer says. “Have the boys go ahead and finish up that tram tower. But tell them to take it slow and easy and to be very careful. Always have a safety line connected somewhere, and have them take frequent breaks for frostbite or if they get dizzy or disoriented. The air’s thin and cold up here. If we have to, we’ll go ahead and put on the spacesuits. As Snyder said a while back, we don’t want anybody falling off the mountain. Bad for PR as he puts it.”

“You got it, boss,” Jose says. “The cell phone is ringing again. Want me to answer it?”

“No, Jose, I’ll take care of it,” Lattimer says. “Lattimer here. Whoa! Calm down! I can’t hear for all the yelling! What did you say again? What’s going on up here? We’re building a city in the mountain, that’s what, and a tram to the next one.” Lattimer is silent as Snyder vents his spleen further. “Who told you that?” Lattimer asks. “No, we’re not having any major trouble up here, other than a bad phone connection. I don’t know who you’re getting your information from but they need to do a better job of earning their paycheck. Sam, you are way too concerned with the process. That’s my job, ok? Just worry about the product and everything will turn out just fine. No, I’m not angry. We’re just having a little communication problem, that’s all. You too, good bye.” Lattimer clicks the phone shut. He wipes his brow. “Whew! Sure dodged a bullet on that one, Jose!”

“You mean he bought it, boss?” Jose asks.

“Hey, Snyder’s not the only one around here that knows how to B.S. his way through a situation.”

“You got that right, boss man!” Jose says, smiling with admiration.