I am not in the business of mountain climbing. Bookshelf scaling is the pinnacle of my climbing prowess, so it is with acknowledgeable surprise that I confess I found myself upon the highest mountain in the world, Mount Everest, as the humans call her. I was partaking in a particulary nasty business involving a border dispute between a Tibetan monastery and a certain classified minority group, but in my involvement with was rewarded with a short story. The yetis sought to express their gratitude for my service, but since none of them have (so far) proved to be masters of any literary genre, they gave me this small transcript they had uncovered from the peak of the highest mountain. I place it here on my blog, for all of you goodly non-classified people groups to read.
Highest Mountain:
Inside the penthouse of a very tall building, a tall man stood in the midst of a wedding party. Loud music was blaring over the feeble attempts at conversation, but the tall man wasn't conversing. He was walking very slowly through the crowd, smiling broadly and examining those around him. No one seemed to stop and acknowledge his presence, but the rest of the party goers would snatch awkward moments of eye contact with him, he seemed to be a familiar acquaintance no one was interested in engaging. He strolled to the elevator and pushed the 'Down' button, bouncing on the balls of his heels until the door ringed. In the elevator he pushed the 'Ground' button, still smiling. There was a mirror on one wall, and the tall man spent the long descent from the penthouse examining himself with interest. He wore a very smart dark gray sports coat, but over his tie he wore a thin scarf, and over his very bright eyes a pair of glasses that were pushed just a little too far down his nose. The result was rather a bewitching blend of styles and tastes that left one appearing both wealthy and intellectual, something men have been trying for ages with only varying levels of success. His beard was well trimmed, but not too well trimmed, and had a few graying hairs streaking the brown. Somehow, they made him even more attractive rather than less.
Highest Mountain:
Inside the penthouse of a very tall building, a tall man stood in the midst of a wedding party. Loud music was blaring over the feeble attempts at conversation, but the tall man wasn't conversing. He was walking very slowly through the crowd, smiling broadly and examining those around him. No one seemed to stop and acknowledge his presence, but the rest of the party goers would snatch awkward moments of eye contact with him, he seemed to be a familiar acquaintance no one was interested in engaging. He strolled to the elevator and pushed the 'Down' button, bouncing on the balls of his heels until the door ringed. In the elevator he pushed the 'Ground' button, still smiling. There was a mirror on one wall, and the tall man spent the long descent from the penthouse examining himself with interest. He wore a very smart dark gray sports coat, but over his tie he wore a thin scarf, and over his very bright eyes a pair of glasses that were pushed just a little too far down his nose. The result was rather a bewitching blend of styles and tastes that left one appearing both wealthy and intellectual, something men have been trying for ages with only varying levels of success. His beard was well trimmed, but not too well trimmed, and had a few graying hairs streaking the brown. Somehow, they made him even more attractive rather than less.
The door ringed and opened, and another
man stepped in. They both looked each other in the eye and nodded
slightly, very formal though they seemed to know each other well.
Everyone seemed to know the tall man, and even if they didn't he
always smiled at them as if they would. The door slid shut the tall
man hit the button for the highest floor. The other didn't protest.
The other man was somewhat different
than the tall one; while the first's clothing was well-thought and
attractive, the second's was forgettable and nondescript. He was tall
as well, only a few inches shorter than the tall one, but somehow in
the close space of the elevator their height made a lot of
difference. In fact, the tall, commanding presence of the first man
seemed to fill the elevator, and dwarf the other. Presently they
passed the penthouse and the dull throb of Katy Perry's latest hit
touched their little cell.
“They're having a wedding in there,”
the tall man said to his partner, smiling in his grand way. “quite
a lively young crowd.”
The other stifled a yawn and blinked
slowly. “I imagine so. Just came from a wedding reception myself.”
The tall man observed his cell inmate.
“Long commute?” he asked.
The other nodded.
“Tired?”
“Very.”
The tall man laughed. The door opened
to a narrow colorless hallway, the taller one took the lead towards a
flight of stairs, quickly, with an excited gait. The other tried to
keep up, though his weariness was more obvious as he climbed the
stairs slowly, his shoulders drooped beneath his bland clothes.
Presently they exited onto the roof, and walked through the night
wind to the edge of the skyscraper. The clamor rose up from the
streets was still strong, vague blaring of horns and squealing of
tires drifted up to them, the throb of music boomed up through the
floor, and a dozen other noises rolled into one.
“Noisy.” the shorter man commented.
“It's Friday night,” the tall man
responded with a look of mischief. “come, look around.” he
gestured to the city below them. The shorter man slowly came up to
the very edge and peered down.
“This is the tallest point in the city?” he
asked politely. It was obvious, the city stretched away beneath them,
other sky scrapers dozens of feet below.
“Highest;” the tall man affirmed.
“fifty stories. Quite a sight, isn't it?”
The other nodded.
It was quite a sight indeed. The orange
city lights filled the air, in every direction they stretched off to
what might as well be infinity beyond the horizon. The orange light
illuminated the clouds and lit up the night sky, at first glance it
looked as if the stars had fallen to earth and lit the ground below.
The tall man looked up at the denuded
night sky. “Really bright, aren't they?” he commented softly.
“Can't even see the stars.”
“I see two stars,” the other
replied, pointing heavenward. The tall man laughed.
“Those are planets,” he corrected,
“Venus and Jupiter. And even then,” he added quietly, “there
can be no sabbath.”
he looked over at his companion, but
the other continued gazing skyward.
“You can see much from up here. Does
anyone else come to this roof?” the other finally asked.
“Ah yes, there was a girl who jumped
off here last month; It was all over the news. Her partner cheated
her, he was the new singer on the Naked Ids.”
“I imagine the news found that
interesting.”
“You could jump off, you know, much
harm it would do you.”
the tall man added ruefully. “the news would
cover that, you know. Now that would
get their attention.”
The
other gave his tall companion
only a brief glance. “I'm
not in the entertainment business.” he replied
shortly.
“No! No you aren't!” the tall man
suddenly yelled. “You refuse to feed them, so they hunt for scraps,
you refuse to entertain them, so they look elsewhere for solace!”
he threw an arm dramatically over the
city abyss. “Listen to that clamor, listen to that roar! Do you
think they will hear you over that, do you think they will strain
their eyes to see you past these lights? You shine light into the
darkness and they multiply it, they make more and more until they
finally blot out the ancient stars themselves. You give them bread to
eat and they gorge themselves until they are sick to their cores. You
turn water into wine and they orgy themselves senseless.”
The shorter man looked down at the city
and did not respond. After a moment, the tall man continued with
vehemence. “Look at the country you fostered; the perfect empire,
of ideals. Where are those ideals now? You gave these people luxury,
and they roll in it like pigs. You gave them peace and quiet; and
they use it to invent new debaucheries. You gave them freedom,-”
his voice shook with emotion, “and they prostitute themselves to
idols. Look down at the Friday night fun around you! They spend the
money they worship on stimulants and prostitutes, they squander the
freedom they are given on self-destructive follies!
“Where are your pillars of
righteousness, where are your saints of old? Everyone has gone in
unison, in the glorious decay of being normal, into decadence! Do you
think the old men hear you, over the talk of golf and employment
rates and health care? Do you think the old women hear you, over
their botox and hair treatments and children's recent divorces? Do
you think the young women hear you, over their television shows about
dashing men that don't exist, over the talk of their reproductive
rights and health coverage rights and inherent disadvantages? Where
are your righteous young men? Do they hear you over the cheap
laughter of their guys, over the chatter of their video games and the
shame of their pornography addictions?
They are rotten, sick, decaying to the
core. They have twisted even the smallest things into lies not to be
named, they build and build these mighty babels that would put Sodom
to shame! And all these liars, these unfaithful murderers and
deceivers and cowards ever want, is to just be normal. That's what
they have done with your freedom. They have not learned in all the
ages, they remain twisted, underdeveloped slaves to themselves. You
cannot pull these wretches born of flesh into the heavens.”
The shorter man looked down across the
abyss, and suddenly he seemed taller than his companion, very large,
especially in his eyes.
“The darkness does not comprehend the
light;” he replied quietly. “you may look until your eyes burn
with sulfurous fire, but still you do not comprehend it. The truth is
terrible, even you in all your splendor could not accept it, but they
will know it, yes, they with all their folly, will see what you
looked upon and could not grasp.”
The wind roared about the tower, and
the tumult of the city was carried away by its might. The shorter man
was suddenly alone in the wind, it whipped and rushed through the
night sky about him, driving away the city-lit clouds, the haze that
dulled the heavens. The lone remainder looked up at the sky, quietly,
patiently, he counted three stars.
After a moment, he pulled a piece of
stale bread from his pocket, and holding aloft, crumbled it into the
wind. The wind thundered and buffeted about the tower, and it carried
the crumbs far, far beyond the orange city lights, where they
stretched for what might as well be infinity beyond the horizon.
