ã€ŠIn the Whiteã€‹


 Chapter I

    I jumped on the last step of the last train, at the last second of its departure. I left my city without bidding farewell, and the city didn''t seem to care.

    The train was going to the south; the conductor punched my ticket, and I settled in a corner of the car, amidst someone''s luggage and a wall.

    The car was full of people of every background you could find back in the city: workers, teachers, doctors, clerks, artists, and traders. They were sitting, standing, hanging. All of them had lives that they were leaving; all of them had their reasons to be on the train. I had mine as well. In my hands was a picture of a mountain looming in the white haze.

    Pounding wheels carried us along the steel tracks, familiar landscapes were passing by behind the windows. I sat on the floor in my corner, my backpack beneath me, a wooden suitcase on the left, a bench with luggage underneath in front of me, unmovable wall on the right. I did not mind my discomforting position. It was all for a cause, and I was ready to endure.

    I had no regrets about leaving. People in the car did though. Many were crying, some were lamenting, very few were still, silent and calm, but with grim faces. They were running away. I was running as well, but not away ¨C I was running ''to''. So, at least, I thought to myself.

    Behind the wooden suitcase on the left of me, there was a bulky bold man in a grey coat. He seemed to be alone, yet he was constantly talking to somebody. It soon became clear, that he was talking to no one in particular, and since we both were on the floor ¨C below the line of focus of most people ¨C shortly he concentrated on talking to me.

    ¡°Calamity always comes unannounced. That is the law of nature. Nothing to do with it. What can we do? Only obey. Or run. Running is tough, though. Especially when you''re alone. Are you alone?¡± he asked me suddenly.

    I said I was.

    ¡°This is tough, very tough. When you come to a new place, you''re like a child. You get born again. You look for your mother, for somebody to attend, but there''s nobody. You''re like a child, but this time you''re all on your own. Is your mother alive?¡±

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    I said she wasn''t.

    ¡°That''s too bad. No mother there, no mother here. This is very tough. Very, very... Oh, god, how I want to be back with my family.¡±

    The conversation did not strike me as interesting. I sat pressed into the wall, looking at the picture. I had my purpose; I had my change of cloth, underwear, toothbrush, snacks, and a little bit of money. I needed nothing else. So I thought to myself.

    The man sat quietly for some time and then started talking again.

    ¡°I have a friend in Italy. He''s well set, I could go there if I wanted. But I didn''t. I can actually find any job in Europe at any time with my experience, even without friends. But I never did. I wanted to, but I thought about my family. I wanted to be useful back home. Now, here I am, going to the South, where I do not want to be. What does it tell us? Maybe sometimes it is better to listen to the clues. Maybe sometimes one should listen to his desires. Do you have desires, young man?¡±

    I was leaning against the wall, pretending to be asleep. He didn''t seem to notice, continuing with his babble, which did not spark a single bit of interest in me. He kept on talking, and I kept on pretending to be asleep, and eventually I, unexpectedly for myself, did fall asleep.

    I saw a dream, the one that I''d been seeing since my very early childhood. It was about me running away. I used to run away from a lot of things, and quite many of those escapes used to end in this place ¨C on the brink of a cliff above the raging black sea. This was the place, where I used to have to make a choice: jump or be swallowed by whatever I''d been running away from. I never managed to make any choice and just woke up.

    This time it was different. Somehow, I did not feel like I was running from something. In fact, there was no fear at all. The sea was rough, but not rageful. The sky was cloudy, but not black. The abyss below was still scary, waves were hitting stones with ''booms'' and splatter, but I looked at it calmly.

    ¡°Well then,¡± I thought to myself in the dream. ¡°If that''s the way my brain conceptualizes it... so be it.¡±

    I thought that I should jump in. I walked further away from the brink to make a good run when suddenly my feeling changed. The sky above got back to black, the sea was becoming rowdier and rowdier. I turned around and saw a lead-grey void coming for me from behind the horizon.

    ¡°What is it? Do I now have to jump?¡±

    My heart squeezed in as if signaling the answer. There was no time for contemplating ¨C I had to make the choice, and the choice was obvious. I went ahead, making a big, wide leap one time, two times, and last time ¨C off I went into the void, dark uncharted waters looming beneath me, air wishing past me. And at that moment, just when my feet were expecting to touch the earth again but didn''t, my heart exploded in my chest, and a question pierced my brain almost like a needle: haven''t I made a mistake?

    I winced and sat up in my corner. It was night, the train was riding on, and most people in the car were already asleep. The man on the left was absent; I used that opportunity to get out of my corner and reach the bathroom. Having done my stuff there, I returned back and rearranged myself, and fell asleep again ¨C this time without seeing vivid dreams.

 Chapter II

    When I woke up, the train had already crossed the board. I couldn''t see the outside from my cornered position except for the unimaginably blue sky, that was looming up in the window. The whole car was busy doing their morning chores; a line into the bathroom stood all length of the aisle. The man on the left of me was back and asleep. I took out the picture again, to study the mountain and indulge in sweet fiction of what it would look like when I got there. On the flip side of the picture, there was a word written: White. At the time I did not understand what it meant. The only thing that was sure about ¨C this wasn''t the name of the mountain.

    <hr>

    Around midday, the train stopped.

    ¡°White!¡± announced the conductor, entering from a vestibule. For a moment I was confused. I was told, that I had to go to the ''south'', without specific names to guide me. At the same time, there was this word on the flip side of the picture. Could it be the name of the station?

    I got up and looked out the car window ¨C a blindingly white plane was going from the train all the way up to the horizon, where it dissolved in a white haze, which further up faded into the clear blue sky. The whole picture looked like somebody had filled the background with a gradient in Photoshop and stuck it to a wall.

    ¡°White! Anybody getting off?¡± the conductor shouted. There wasn''t enough time to think. ¡°We have to go out in any way,¡± I thought, ¡°if this is it ¨C this is it, if not ¨C we''ll take another train.¡± I grabbed my backpack and started to crawl through the car to the exit.

    I got off the train and immediately got blown by the hot, dry, dusty wind. The earth here consisted of fine white sand. The plain was absolutely flat in all its extent ¨C at least so it seemed. The sun glowed from above, and the sky was dark blue, almost indigo. In the haze near the horizon, there was looming a pale, faded streak of something that looked like a mountain range.

    The train blew its horn and started moving, its cars clanging and clashing behind me. Soon it disappeared in the haze, and I was the only human standing beside running in a straight line of rail tracks.

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    ¡°Ain''t much water here, huh,¡± I said to myself. Clouds of dust were sprinting across the plane. The streak of mountains in the haze was dancing in the hot air. Nothing could be seen anywhere around.

    Maybe I have made a mistake?

    I sat down on my backpack and took out my picture. I studied it all across but didn''t see anything of a clue. The mountain was rising into the blue sky covered in snow on the front side, the ''White'' ¨C the only word on this piece of paper ¨C was written with a pencil on the flip side. We had the ''White'', we had the ''blue'' ¨C where''s the mountain?

    The sun shone ruthlessly. I got warm, then hot, then I got up and took off my jacket and hoodie. There weren''t many options to be choosing from; the grayish streak of silhouettes was dancing in the hot air from afar. If there were any mountains somewhere here in the vicinity, it was only logical to assume that they were in that direction. I grabbed my stuff and strode off.

    The sand was soft, the footprints I was leaving in it were clear and sharp, and the ground beneath it was hard; walking on it was easy, if not for the heat and wind. I went on for like 20 minutes and didn''t seem to see anything. I was becoming tired and started thinking about getting back, but quickly reworded the thought ¨C I didn''t have any ''back'' to return to.

    I didn''t seem to have any ''forward'' though either. I went on and on, and soon lost track of time. The sun was blazing, I got hot and sweaty, legs in my pants became wet and sticky. I made a halt, dropping my bag and sitting down on it. I wiped my face, and it was covered in sweat and dust. Dust was on my pants, on my t-shirt, on my arms; evidently, it was also in my hair and, of course, on the whole of my bag. Dust, dust, white dust everywhere, nothing but white dust in a radius of a thousand miles.

    Have I really not made a mistake?

    I did not panic. I told myself not to, but I could not help the feeling of being in the wrong position. Something was wrong; this shouldn''t have been like that. After all, there was a train station right there, in the middle of this dust field ¨C why? Why would it be here, if there was nothing here? Why would the train stop, and why would this stop bear its own name? It means only one thing ¨C there is something here, it''s just that I don''t see it. How do I see it then? How? Think.

    I guess I have, after all, made a m...

    Shut up. Think. Think! Think.

    Think...

    I could not think of anything. I opened my eyes and saw the same white sand all around me, dusty whirls of wind rolling past.

    I did, however, notice something weird further in the distance.

 Chapter III

    It was a small dark line, and it looked seemingly like a roof going just a little above the ground. I jumped up with my possessions and hurried there.

    It was indeed a roof: a shabby wooden shed stood in a rectangular deepening. I went down the stairs carved in the white marble-like rock, and entered through the door, overhung by a wooden board with an inscription saying ¡°Dead Fish¡±.

    Inside it was life-savingly cool and eye-pleasingly dark. Tables stood in three rows, a single dim lamp stood somewhere in a distant corner. Quiet indeterminable music played on the radio. There were three customers, one at a table in each row: a gentleman with a newspaper, a guy in a hat, and a man in a hood.

    I dropped on a stool right next to the entrance. All three men turned to me with amused looks.

    ¡°Sorry. Don''t mind me, I just... I''m okay.¡± I said while catching my breath.

    They turned back to their tables. I sat for a bit and then approached the counter.

    ¡°Can I have something to eat?¡± I asked the man at the counter. The man shrugged.

    ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°Well, I mean, food, something to eat. And water!¡±

    The man shrugged again.

    ¡°We don''t have much.¡±

    ¡°Well, what do you have?¡±

    The man shrugged the third time.

    ¡°Beer.¡±

    ¡°That''s it?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°And water?¡±

    ¡°Only beer.¡±

    This time I shrugged.

    ¡°Okay, and something edible?¡±

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    The man turned away and looked at shelves, hanging in the dark behind him. He looked there for a long while, his forehead wrinkling intensively until he said,

    ¡°We have some chips.¡±

    ¡°Chips? That''s it?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    For a minute I stood there pondering. Beer in this heat was a bad idea, and chips as a meal were even worse. The alternative, however, was that I''d go on wandering thirsty and hungry.

    ¡°Well, are there any places around here with clear water and human food?¡±

    The man once again shrugged.

    ¡°There ain''t much.¡±

    "On the mountain,¡± a voice from behind announced. I turned around ¨C a man in a hood was sitting at a table right next to the counter smacking chips. He was looking somewhere past me, in the dark. It was quite obvious (to me, at least), what mountain he was talking about. I hesitated with my answer but decided eventually to use this opportunity.

    ¡°On that,¡± I said, carefully approaching him. ¡°Could you somehow, um... could you tell me, where to find that mountain?¡±

    The man looked at me with tired and faded eyes.

    ¡°Why, sure. You find it here.¡±

    ¡°Where ¨C here?¡±

    ¡°Here. In the White.¡± He turned his eyes away again and sipped his beer. I sat down on a chair across his table.

    ¡°Yeah, but could you be a little more specific about it? I don''t seem to have seen any big mountains in immediate proximity. Is it, maybe, located in that ridge that is seen on the horizon?¡±

    The man made several more sips and put his glass down with a faint and somewhat menacing smug.

    ¡°That''s the catch, fella. To find it you have to see it. To see it you have to find it.¡±

    ¡°I don''t think I get it.¡±

    ¡°Nobody does. Not even those who''ve been here a long time, let alone those who''ve just landed here. It''s a tricky part that you solve on your own.¡±

    He threw the glass over and drained the remaining beer in two gulps. He then smacked the glass down onto the table, burped, and turned his body to get off the chair.

    ¡°Have you solved it?¡± I asked him. He stopped his motion and gawped at me with a discouragingly sad look. Without a response, he then stood up and moved to the exit tottering from side to side.

    "Dow, give the poor fella a proper dinner,¡± he said huskily without turning around, ¡°and pour him some water. On my bill.¡±

    One of the chairs fell down with a bump pushed by his clumsily swaying hand. He did not pay attention and left through the door.

    I was still looking in that direction, when Dow brought me a plate of fish soup, a bowl of bread, and a glass of water, and then went on to pick up the chair. I emptied the plate and then killed the bread very quickly. The soup was good, the bread was crisp and the water tasted good.

    Having eaten I pushed the dishes away and rested a little. I took out the picture of the mountain ¨C in the dim light of the shop, it looked like some kind of underwater volcano somewhere deep in the sea. I once again asked myself the bothersome question: have I really not made a mistake?

    This all looked extremely wrong. There was nothing here, there was nobody here, at least nobody of help. I did not know, what I was supposed to do. And I could not go back. This was my one and only shot, and I felt like I was already missing it.

    I asked Dow the count-man if I could use the shop''s bathroom. He allowed me in, and I washed my face and hands (should''ve done it before, I thought, but whatever), and my clothes. Upon returning to the counter I asked Dow how much I owed to the man in the hood.

    ¡°Forty dollars,¡± he said.

    ¡°Fo... fucking what?!¡±

    The counterman looked at me with a face expressing the same question.

    ¡°Sorry. Got it,¡± I remedied. ¡°Forty dollars. Fuck me.¡±

    I left the shop. I felt fed, watered, washed, but a little bit fooled and... well, lost.

    It was around 5 p.m. now. The sun was nearing the west, but it was still hot, air shimmering over the ground in the distance. I was lost, very much lost, but I had to pick a direction. Silhouettes of mountains were looming on all sides, the ones on the North, however, were lit by direct light and were the most visible. I chose to go there.

 Chapter IV

    One of the peaks in that northern range was especially notorious ¨C it stood a little separate, higher than the other peaks, and had a distinctively sharp apex. I made it my landmark; I drew an imaginary line between the shop and this peak, stood face to it, memorized the sun''s position relative to this line, and went forward. The idea was that I would keep track of the sun relative to its position when I was near the shop so that if necessary I could return to it.

    I strode on across the flat white plane, bag on my back, hoodie and jacket between straps. The sun was going lower and lower. The air was still warm, but the breeze was becoming cooler. After about an hour I stopped. The surroundings were still empty, the sun was very low, the lands turned from blinding white to yellowish, and the mountain range on the horizon became reddish-grey. I was not going to get anywhere, and I realized, that returning to the shop and staying there would be a much better idea. I rested a little and went back.

    The peak was still visible; I kept it straight behind me and tried to orient by the sun ¨C I figured that it should be further on my right hand now. Another hour of walking passed. The sun hid behind the western ridge leaving a line of red sky above it. In an incomprehensibly quick time, the heat turned into cold, and the wind became stronger and chiller.

    I went on and on, and on, and on. An hour and a half passed after my turning point, and I still did not see the shop. The terrain was becoming bluer and darker. The red patch of sky was shrinking and fading; it was full-on dusk, and it was turning really quickly into a full-on night.

    I stopped and looked around. No shop, no lights, no nothing. My brilliant orientation plan went completely wrong ¨C I was lost. I was already lost figuratively, and now I was lost literally.

    Nice, eh? Funny, I''d say even. Utterly hilarious.

    I put on my hoodie and jacket and sat down on my backpack to rest and calm down a bit. I had my smartphone with me, and it still somehow had access to the internet. I was googling for ways to survive in the desert at night when a blink of light hit my side vision. It was a car, and it was running past a little afar.

    I jumped up screaming with my phone high in the air. It was not too dark, and I was pretty sure they were going to notice. They did ¨C the car slowed down and turned in my direction.

    It was an old and dirty pickup. The driver ¨C a middle-aged woman which I could not see clearly in the dark ¨C did not hide her amusement.

    ¡°Just what kind of a devilish wind brought you here, little bee?¡± she asked while stopping beside me. Usually, I''m very hesitant to ask other people for anything, but this time it was desperate.

    ¡°I''m sorry, but I need a place to stay overnight. I''d really appreciate it, if...¡±

    ¡°Sure thing, pal, pop in!¡± She said without letting me finish.

    <hr>

    We were traveling over the desert at a ridiculous speed ¨C way past 60 m/h. The sand in the headlights flew so fast that it looked like a solid white blanket.

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    The driver''s name was Maisha, she lived on a farm (a farm?) not so far away (not so far?!). She asked me how I ended up in the middle of the desert; I told her how I arrived, how I had dinner in the ''Dead Fish'', about my wanderings, and about the mountain.

    ¡°Oh, another one fell prey to that swindler Dow,¡± she remarked when hearing it. I did agree, that the prices there were rather high.

    ¡°And he didn''t even offer you a staying?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No. Should he have?¡±

    ¡°Of course, this is desert after all... uh, whatever.¡±

    She swayed her hand as a sign of disapproval. For some time we rode on in silence.

    ¡°What did you mean by ''another one''? Are there many others like me?¡±

    ¡°Ho, boy, loads of them. Coming in every day and every night, from every side of the Universe.¡±

    I pondered over the last statement.

    ¡°There doesn''t seem to be a lot of people here now, though?¡±

    ¡°Well, it''s a huge place, the crowds dissolve quickly.¡±

    The car bumped over something ¨C the first obstacle in our whole trip.

    ¡°Have you ever been to the mountain?¡± I asked Maisha.

    ¡°Nah, I don''t care about that. Well, I did care when I first arrived here, but now I live a good life on my good little farm, with my good old husband, and I don''t want no mountains in my range anymore.¡±

    She moved her hand in a crossing gesture, which affirmed that she actually meant what she said.

    ¡°Has your husband ever been to it?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yes, he very much has. And sometimes he still goes there.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah. You''re gonna have a really worthy conversation with him, he loves talking about it!¡±

    We talked more as we were riding across the desert. She told me about herself ¨C apparently, she had come here following her husband, who had been dreaming about climbing the mountain his whole life. They came to White by boat (by boat?!), and settled near Bold Hill, where now their farm is. He spent three years searching for a way to see the mountain. All this time she was making money for the family, which was a challenge for her and for the family''s integrity, but they managed to overcome it. He finally found a way, and one day they set out on a journey together. It did not go well: he got seriously injured, she herself almost died (she omitted the details); they returned to their house and did not make new attempts for a year. He was eager to go there though, and she said that he''d have to do it alone now. He agreed, and since then they had lived a harmonious life, with him occasionally leaving for the mountain and returning with precious extractions.

    ¡°What kind of extractions?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Different kinds. Artifacts, writings, some weird stuff that I''m not even sure how to describe. Sometimes it''s something valuable, that we can sell on the market for a good price, sometimes more of a fancy gimmick, that we either give to somebody or keep for ourselves. I don''t know, it''s different every time and quite interesting. Yeah, overall, I must say that it is quite an interesting life we''re living.¡±

    Maisha said it while concentrating on slowing down and making a right turn into darkness. I couldn''t see where we were turning to though; except for a light bulb hanging in the air, there didn''t seem to be anything around.

 Chapter V

    We rolled up on a kind of elevation with a flat top. The car stopped right near the bulb ¨C it was hanging just above my door.

    ¡°I don''t...¡± I was confused and embarrassed and did not know how to convey it. ¡°I don''t... understand?¡±

    Maisha looked at me curiously.

    ¡°Oh,¡± she suddenly realized, ¡°right. That''s a common thing for newcomers. You''ll get it. Watch out for the dogs!¡±

    ¡°The what?¡±

    Maisha exited the car and went away. Slowly ¨C and rather surprisingly ¨C I realized that I did hear a dog barking. I opened the door and went outside into the cold night. I looked up to study the way the bulb could so solidly hang in the air and got jumped by a huge hairy animal.

    ¡°Jesus!¡± I leaped away and almost fell.

    ¡°Don''t worry, she doesn''t bite! Ama, come here!¡±

    It was a beige Labrador. It was excitingly jumping around me, barking, sniffing me, jumping again.

    ¡°Ama, what are you doing? this is rude! Come here, girl!¡±

    Ama ran off to Maisha. I made several steps forward and noticed another dog ¨C this time it was a small mops; it silently ran up to me, sniffed my dusty boots and ran away without a note.

    ¡°Ew, so noisy!¡±A tall man with a splendid wide grey beard appeared before Maisha. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a red shirt with ''red shirt'' imprinted in white letters on the chest.

    This was the moment when the whole picture started to clear out for me. Behind the man a doorway appeared; from it spread a wall ¨C it went in all directions, right, left, and up to the cornice. It went past me and ended with a corner several feet away; the bulb was now hanging on a metal rod extending from the wall. Opposite to the house, a whole yard materialized from the night air, with another car, two doghouses, some utility outbuildings, and fences.

    Another girl appeared on the porch. Maisha kissed the man; the girl, grabbed and rubbed Labrador''s muzzle with her hands, ¡°woo, you''re my girl, eh!¡±

    She introduced me to the man ¨C her husband.

    ¡°The name''s Meir,¡± he said in a splendid British accent.

    ¡°My pleasure!¡± I said, shaking his hand.

    ¡°Oh, the pleasure''s ours. We''re always glad to have newcomers!¡±

    The girl was their daughter named Ailin.

    I was invited into the house. We entered a lobby full of outwear on hangers and footwear on the floor. The mops went past me; I scratched its scruff, and it seemed to like it.

    ¡°His name is Booty,¡± the daughter said.

    ¡°Booty, huh? That''s some real doggo name!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, he''s the most real doggo in this house!¡± the man with the beard joked.

    People started shuffling around the house; Booty sat beside me with closed eyes, enjoying scratching and caressing.

    Is this a mirage?

    Is this real?

    ¡°Come in, pal, make yourself at home,¡± Maisha lead me through the doorway; in front of me there was a staircase, on the left ¨C another lobby, and on the right ¨C a big living room with a huge table.

    ¡°What kind of magic is this?¡±

    Meir seemed to understand what I was asking about clearly.

    ¡°I call it the volume of sight,¡± he explained. ¡°The White does not open fully to everybody. You can only see what it allows you to see, and to gain the right to see stuff, you have to put in some work.¡±

    ¡°So, like a game?¡±

    ¡°Well, one could say so in a way, but I wouldn''t. The stakes are high here, you know. Death is still real. Unfortunately.¡± He threw his hands up and smiled. ¡°Anyway, don''t be shy, sit down,¡± Meir was walking around in his ''red shirt'' and emitting domestic friendliness.

    ¡°One second, we''ll clear the bathroom for you and... where do you think you''re going?¡± Maisha caught the mops when he was getting ready to jump on the first step of the stairs. ¡°You''re not gonna outside? You don''t wanna outside anymore, you''re sure? Meir, wash his feet, please.¡±

    ¡°Auright.¡±

    ¡°Ailin, where''s the bike?¡±

    ¡°I put it in the shad.¡±

    ¡°Okay, um... sit down, honey, don''t stand!¡± Ailin brought me a chair and said to sit down too. I obliged ¨C I was indeed rather tired.

    What am I going to do, when this mirage goes poof?

    If it is a mirage, I''m still in the desert. I''m likely cold ¨C deadly cold; I''m hungry and thirsty.

    Meir went out of the bathroom, mops trotting near his feet.

    ¡°Honey, what are we doing with the jars?¡±

    ¡°What jars?¡± Maisha was replying from the kitchen, which was around the corner on the left. ¡°Ow, um, take them down.¡±

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    ¡°All of them?¡±

    ¡°Yes. No!¡± She ran off to the smaller room and into the bathroom.

    ¡°You were going...¡±

    ¡°Yeah-yeah, hold it...¡±

    The mops ran up to me and demanded more grooming. I scratched behind his ears and palmed his head; by the looks of it, he was growing to like me. Ailin brought me a cup of hot tea.

    ¡°While they''re meddling with their stuff,¡± she said with a smile.

    I''m caressing a pile of sand. I''m likely drinking sand too. God, this mirage is going on for too long, it''s getting cruel.

    They eventually took out the glass jars with some kinds of jams and preserved juices, and then some other stuff, that a person from Western culture would never conceive of hiding in a bathroom.

    ¡°My stuff?¡± I suddenly remembered about my backpack, where all of my changing clothes were.

    ¡°Oh, I believe it''s in the car!¡±

    Maisha went to take it and was let into the bathroom. I had a shower ¨C a sweet, moist, hot shower. I stood there thinking, that if it was a mirage, then I''m bathing in the dust. My bag was brought to me from the car and put beside the door; I dried off, put on my clean clothes, and went out.

    The table in the guest room was already filled with dishes: vegetables, fruits, bread, hot potatoes, carafes with water, and juice.

    If it''s still a mirage, I''m about to eat sa... Uh, fuck it.

    We had supper. Maisha brought from the kitchen a bowl of some kind of stew, probably beef with cream sauce. I ate all I was given. I could not care about whether it was a mirage a not anymore.

    At the meal, they told me more about themselves. They had two children. The daughter was the youngest. Her older brother, named Karl, was out in the city (I wasn''t getting surprised anymore. In the city. OK. Got it.) They had a farm, where they were growing tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, potatoes ¨C whatever is sold in modern groceries. They had a garden with multiple fruit trees. They also had three cows and seven pigs, a dozen of chickens, and a bunch of something else. They hired a man called Tigran, who helped the attend to the farm.

    After the meal was over, Maisha asked, ¡°Wine?¡±

    The family looked at me ¨C as if I was the head of the house now ¨C but I was not ready for that.

    ¡°No, thank you, not today.¡±

    ¡°It''s fine. Tea then?¡±

    ¡°Yes, tea would be great.¡±

    ¡°Good. And you ¨C coffee?¡± Maisha asked Meir.

    ¡°That''s correct,¡± Meir replied and reached for a fancy sideboard standing near the end of the table. He took out a smoking pipe

    ¡°So,¡± he asked, puffing rings of smoke. ¡°The mountain?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Would you mind me asking?¡± Filling up the pipe, he looked at me with an expression of a man, actually wondering if I would mind or not.

    ¡°Why?¡± I tried to guess his question. He nodded.

    ¡°Absolutely, the first and most important question.¡±

    ¡°She visited me.¡±

    He raised his brows.

    ¡°In a dream? Or...¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I pondered a little on whether I should say it or not but then went for it. ¡° ¡­ visited me personally.¡±

    He lit the pipe and let out a long smoky exhale.

    ¡°This is serious.¡±

    ¡°You know this feeling then, right?¡±

    He agreeably shook his head.

    ¡°Because I don''t know how to explain it clearly. It''s just like you want to be with her. Not in a sexual way, but rather... a comradery one?¡±

    ¡°You want to be on her team.¡±

    This time I was nodding.

    ¡°Hers is the winning party. This is so clear, when you see her, it''s not expressible verbally or visually, you just know it. And you want to be on her side.¡±

    Meir made a deep sigh.

    ¡°This is not a trivial task, though. Climbing that mountain is a quest in and of itself, and aside from that you have to master so many other layers: the right attitude, knowledge and skills, and equipment. Not to mention ¨C you have to find a way of getting to it.¡±

    The women returned from the kitchen with a tray of cups and a bowl of sweets. For several moments the conversation went away into cozy chatter.

    ¡°These are the sweets Uncle Bo brought us,¡± Maisha said.

    ¡°O-oh, this should be good, we shall try it.¡±

    The sweets were indeed very good, and the tea was delicious. I, however, was eager to ask Meir a lot of questions but wasn''t sure how to approach them.

    ¡°Have you been there a lot?¡± I started carefully.

    ¡°Four times,¡± he replied.

    ¡°Wow. You must have a lot of experience then?¡±

    ¡°The problem with this kind of experience,¡± he began after sipping his coffee, ¡°is that you cannot really convey it. It is impossible to explain, and ¨C it is impossible to teach.¡± He started talking with theatrical pauses. ¡°Because it''s very personal. I can give you some general guides. Some useful cues. But the way itself ¨C the way there ¨C you''ll have to figure it out yourself. Because for every climber it is his own. This is how she arranged everything.¡±

    For a moment I thought about the guy in the hood I saw at the ''Dead Fish''.

    ¡°I already heard it from one man.¡±

    ¡°This is what every person will tell you. This is the basics, as they say.¡± Meir emptied the pipe in an ashtray and reached for another pack of tobacco.

    ¡°How did you find your way?¡±

    ¡°I was blessed, in a way ¨C pardon me this pun. I knew my way from a very early age. I did not know how to walk it, however. That took me a lot of time to ascertain,¡± he loaded a new bunch of tobacco in the pipe and lit it up.

    ¡°But I''ve seen people, who were able to see the mountain immediately after they got off their vehicles. I''ve seen people, who had spent a lot of time digging around and crawling in the dust until they managed to see it. I''ve seen people who didn''t seem to be doing anything, yet they somehow saw it when they needed it.¡±

    He made a prolonged pause now.

    ¡°And, I know people, who are still wandering this wretched desert without a single clue. Some of them have been wandering for decades and still haven''t seen it.¡±

    I once again remembered the guy in the hood. His eyes were vivid in my memory. It made me wonder,

    ¡°Why would she do this to people?¡±

    ¡°I... don''t think it''s ''she''. She is merciful and knowledgeable ¨C she does not pick those who she knows won''t cope with the task. My theory is that it might be something to do with themselves.¡±

    ¡°She doesn''t really help anybody either,¡± Maisha inserted.

    ¡°She has her own understanding of power,¡± Meir said, ¡°which implies, that the person chosen is the person already with power. It is up to him, how he''s going to use it.¡±

    ¡°Did Uncle Jan have a lot of power?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Oh, he absolutely did. I know you''re going to disagree with me on this again, but I now am sure, that he made a wrong choice. One wrong choice failed him completely. That is another thing about her ¨C when she chooses, she gives you choice...¡±

    Maisha and Meir went on talking about ...''s way of treating her selected ones and how it affected this ''uncle Jan''. Then they switched to more family stuff; I sat at my side with my head leaning deeper down. I was listening, but I was also starting to feel especially tired.

    ¡°Anyway, I see our guest is all sleepy now,¡± Meir noticed.

    So I was, and so, I was led to the upper floor, where bedrooms were. A separate bedroom with clean bed sheets was given to me; I did not know, how I could thank my hosts.

    ¡°Don''t sweat it,¡± Meir said, ¡°this desert is a cruel place, especially for newcomers. It is pretty much our duty to help any fellow climber who''s just got here.¡±

    With that I was left alone; without much more to do, I undressed and got into bed. The house had rumbled quietly behind the door for some time yet, while the family was finishing their own business. It did not bother me ¨C I fell asleep almost immediately.

 Chapter VI

    I slept well and long. When I woke up, I felt rested and calm. I didn''t worry about the ''mirage'' disappearing anymore (it was already going for too long for a mirage), I stopped thinking about whether I had made a mistake. Behind the window, it was already a blinding bright day.

    The window went out on the outer side of the farm. Some 20 feet from the house there was a simple wire fence; in front of it, there was running a garden bed with some white plants (as I later found out, those had been ordinary plants covered in white dust); behind it, the familiar white flat plane was spreading away all the way up until it merged with haze.

    Some noise was coming from around the house: Maisha was explaining something to Meir, who replied in his deep calm voice; Ailin said something while running out. Dogs were barking outside. Soon the car started up and left the yard, footsteps became sparser and quieter.

    Though a thin blade of doubt was still pricking me from the inside, somehow I was sure that these were good people. They were the kind of people who took serious things seriously, who didn''t judge without knowing, and whose primary genuine intention was to help those in need. I didn''t know if it was her who arranged this encounter for me, but I did feel extremely lucky ¨C rather undeservedly so.

    I got up, got dressed, and went down to do the morning chores. Mops Booty met me downstairs with great joy as if I''d already been a member of the family. He demanded that I caress him, and for some ten minutes I got busy. Labrador Ama was outside ¨C apparently she was not allowed into the house, unlike the mops.

    At the moment the only one remaining in the house was Ailin. She was a tall and spare girl with a pale face. She fixed me breakfast and made a coffee; she was reserved and shy ¨C and so was I for that matter ¨C so after the breakfast, she went out to work in the garden, and for a time I stayed alone.

    Soon Meir returned on a loud shiny motorcycle, that he parked outside. Today he was dressed in a white shirt with ''white shirt'' printed in black letters on the chest.

    ¡°Is it some kind of a collection?¡± I asked him pointing to the letters.

    ¡°In fact, it is, actually,¡± he replied spreading his chest proudly. ¡°I have this one, also a red one, a black one, green, pink and blue. A friend of mine has a printing shop back in London, he sent me these as a gift on last Christmas. I think we can give one to you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that''s not necessary.¡±

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°No-no, please take it, you''ll need it.¡±

    Maisha was out in the ''city''. Tigran ¨C a helper on the farm, arrived around noon. He was a sturdy, darkly tanned guy with a big smile and strong handgrip. The family was out on the farm, and I was in the house again.

    I knew, that I could not stay here long though. I had to get moving, I had to start figuring out my way to the mountain.

    ¡°You said yesterday, that you could only give some guidance on finding the way,¡± I told Meir, when he returned from the garden in a straw hat.

    ¡°Aha, yeah. You mean, you''re already leaving?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I think. I think I need to start moving at least somewhere. As early as possible.¡±

    ¡°Well, the earlier, the better, that is true.¡± He took off his hat and stood with it for a minute thinking. ¡°Guidance, then. I''d say this: the best way to start your searches if you haven''t seen the mountain yet, is to walk around ¨C as simplistic as it sounds. You walk around, you take notes ¨C by the way, this is important. You''ll have to take notes, and by that I mean ¨C literally. Do you have a notepad?¡±

    I did have a notepad and a handful of pencils.

    ¡°That is good. Now, I won''t be able to tell you the exact mechanism here, because I can''t quite grasp it myself, but the White opens most willingly to those who watch, listen, and take their notes.¡±

    He then told several tricks on what kind of notes could do what, what things are easier to find, what can be useful, and what should be avoided.

    ¡°By the way, there are taxis here, believe it or not,¡± he went on. ¡°They can be very useful. They are usually easy to spot because it is kind of their job, but they are very rare in this part of the desert. Still, you should watch out for them. Do you have money?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do.¡±

    ¡°Prices here can be exorbitant, so if you''re short on money ¨C say it straight.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I have experienced that,¡± I said with a smile. ¡°No, thank you, so far I''m good.¡± The idea of taking money from these people, in addition to all that they''ve already given me, seemed blasphemous to me.

    ¡°Auright. What about necessities: food, water?¡±

    I was short on those, and Meir momentarily got to help me with that. Soon my backpack was filled with snacks, dried fruits, some sandwiches made by Ailin, a huge bottle of water. We exchanged telephone numbers; Meir also explained to me how to navigate by the sun using a wristwatch.

    ¡°You point your hour hand at the sun,¡± he said, ¡°we are in the Northern hemisphere, so it will work here. You point it to the sun, and then you take the area between the hour hand and 12 o''clock and draw a line through the middle of it, so for example it''s 1 o''clock now, we take this area from 12 to 1, we divide it by two, and at half past twelve ¨C it''s south; opposite direction is north, right ¨C west and left ¨C east. Remember well, which direction our house is in, and if you ever feel lost or confused, or you don''t have anywhere to stay ¨C go that direction right to us; we are always happy to shelter you here!¡±

    ¡°I have no idea how to thank you.¡±

    ¡°Don''t sweat it. As I''ve said, helping newcomers is our duty as established climbers.¡± He winked at me. ¡°Go find that mountain!¡±

 Chapter VII

    I left their house and headed West. I had asked the direction of the ''Dead Fish'' and was now going there, to train my navigation skills and establish one of the few open connections that I have to this place.

    It was a windless day; the air once again got extremely hot. I wore a hat that Meir gave me in addition to everything else, warning me of possible sunstroke if I didn''t wear it; a ''blue shirt'' which he also eventually forced on me; I had my backpack with the notepad and my hoodie in case of a night.

    I went on for two hours. I was making notes whenever I felt, that there was something going on around me, but nothing of actual note came into my sight at this time. I messed up my navigation again and missed the ''Dead Fish'' to the left by some 1300 feet. Lucky me, I still notice the black outline of its roof and eventually went there.

    It was as dark and cool as yesterday. No customers were in this time; I approached the counter and asked Dow if he could provide me with a meal today. He looked at me thoughtfully and eventually gave me the same fish soup.

    ¡°Tea?¡± he then added suddenly.

    "No, I''d rather have water.¡±

    ¡°No water today. Only beer.¡±

    ¡°Okay, then tea, please.¡±

    ¡°No tea as well. Only beer.¡±

    ¡°Then I''m good, thank you.¡±

    ¡°Why the hell do you ask me about tea, if you don''t have tea?¡± I thought to myself while eating the soup in the far corner of the shop. ¡°And where the freaking hell do you get this fish from?¡±

    After the meal, I decided to take the chance and ask the keeper if he possibly provided some lodging as well. It turned out, he did indeed have several guest rooms.

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    ¡°How much?¡± I asked, expecting the price to be somewhere in the hundreds. He looked away in the dark, thinking.

    ¡°Well, a hundred and... thirty.¡±

    ¡°A night?¡±

    He pondered for another minute.

    ¡°Yeah. A night.¡±

    ¡°Got it. So long.¡±

    Putting my hat on, I felt like a prideful gangster leaving the shop after making a deal. I did not make any deals, though, except one that I made with myself on never stepping foot into this institution again.

    <hr>

    That day I walked as many miles as I had never walked before. I tried to not go very far from my hosts'' house, knowing that I might have needed to get back there inevitably. When the sun went down again, I did eventually return, not having any notable results.

    ¡°That''s fine,¡± Maisha said when I once again crossed her pick-up''s way. ¡°Let''s go home, honey, we''ve got an apple pie today!¡±

    Once again I was greeted like a dearest guest by the family and by both dogs. Their older son Karl ¨C a tall and muscular young man ¨C was in as well this time. He was studying in the ''city'' and wanted to go back to London to study there.

    We had baked in honey and mustard pork, pasta, and fresh salads, followed by the aforementioned apple pie for dessert. We all agreed to have some wine, and Meir brought a bottle of Tuscan dry.

    I heard more about the family. Uncle Jan, who was mentioned last night, was in fact Meir''s brother. He wanted to climb the mountain too. He wanted to ask the goddess for nothing else than literal immortality. He could never find his way, which led to him first drowning in booze, then going nuts.

    The man in the hood was, apparently, familiar to them too.

    ¡°His name is Ivan,¡± Meir said, ¡°we were in touch for some time when we arrived, but then drifted apart. From what I know, he has not reached the mountain yet, and I was told, he is very miserable because of it.¡±

    ¡°He did look miserable,¡± I mentioned.

    I was told some more about the ''Dead Fish''. Dow had opened this shop a long time ago, even before Meir came here with Maisha. He made his shop as visible as possible to newcomers and everybody else and uses this advantage to charge twice or even thrice the normal price.

    ¡°Now, I understand,¡± Meir said, leaning closer to the table, ¡°that circumstances may leave no other choice at times, but my sincere advice would be to try and stay as far away as possible from this bloody rip-off.¡±

    At the time I could not agree more.

 Chapter VIII

    I spent another night in that house. The next morning I set out on another journey.

    ¡°By the way, there''s one important thing we didn''t mention,¡± Meir told me when I was approaching the gates. ¡°Should you find the mountain, keep in mind ¨C when you turn away, you''ll lose sight of it. You''ll have to go through the process of finding it again. This is just so that you were aware.¡±

    I made a circle around the house, keeping it in sight to not get lost. I eventually stumbled upon a car''s hood ¨C it was just a hood, made of steel and plastic, torn or detached (whatever it was) from its host vehicle. I saw it lying in the sand, all white from the dust (underneath the dust it was indigo-blue), and I was excited, even though there wasn''t much that I could do with this discovery.

    I then spent another night in the house and then made another trip around. Then another one, and another one, and thus two weeks passed of me wondering the desert, backpack behind me, hoodie on my waist, watching, listening, making notes, drawings, and maps, searching for something-I-did-not-know-what-it-was-myself.

    I found a lot of things though. Not far from the house, there appeared to be a gas station. Adrian and Mihai ¨C two hearty pals of Romanian origin ¨C were working there. A little to the north of the house, there was a one-story industrial building of white brick ¨C a storehouse or something of the like. It was empty and dilapidated but still could go as a sturdy shelter.

    Having acquired some more skills at navigating and having also discovered some more landmarks, I tried to venture a little further in the white. One day I found a well ¨C an actual well with actual water at its bottom, which was a very precious finding in this desert. For the next few days, I tried to study the area around that well, but to no avail. Nothing seemed to be there, or rather ¨C nothing seemed to be willing to open up to me there despite all my efforts at ''watching'' and ''noting''. Additionally, it was far from the farm, so I eventually stopped coming there.

    Further south from the house, I made an especially important discovery. A bunch of tracks were running through the sands from west to east in a straight line. Every ten minutes or so a car covered in white would race down those tracks lifting up a long cloud of dust. I figured, the cars were the taxis that Meir had told me about before, and the tracks were indicative of some kind of highway used on a regular basis.

    Once at the end of my second week here I had to stay at ''Dead Fish''. I made an especially long trip that day and was not going to reach the farm in time. The sun was already down, I was already hellishly tired, and besides ¨C the fact of me living off other''s resources had been bugging me for a long time by then. I stood in front of the shop and thought that at a time like this spending, $130 for one night wouldn''t hurt.

    And so I did, and it was a fine night. In the morning I went out into the main hall; Ivan was sitting in his old place, at the table near the counter. I nodded to him, and he drunkenly nodded back, by which I mean that his head went up and then bluntly dropped down. I put money on the counter. Dow looked at it, then looked at me, then looked at Ivan, and then I noticed, that Ivan had been trying to look at the counter too. Dow took thirty bucks and moved the one hundred bill to me.

    ¡°That''s it?¡± I asked him.

    He nodded.

    ¡°Why, thank you then!¡±

    Smiling, I nodded to Ivan once more; he thumbed up and dropped his head again, and I set off on another trip.

    This time I went far west. The previous day, right before I turned back to the shop, which was around 4 p.m., I saw a contour of some seemingly huge building in the distance. I made a note with a drawing of it on my pad, and today was intending on reaching it.

    I was striding on with my bag on the back, sipping water from time to time, when I noticed a hill on my right and decided to take a turn to it (it''s actually not often that you find a new landmark here). Upon approach, I noticed a man. He was running up the hill with what seemed like a bag filled with dirt. He reached the top, emptied the bag, and ran down, falling and sliding down the slope. Once down, he filled the bag with whatever he could grab from the ground and ran back up. He was all white, covered in dust head to toe (as all things in this place are). He was wildly energetic, almost exuberant, and did not notice me until I stood up right in front of him. He then suddenly put his wide eyes on me.

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    ¡°What a beautiful day, eh!¡± he cried with weird, crazed joy and ran off for another trip to the top.

    ¡°What a day! What a beautiful day!¡± he repeated while descending back.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked him.

    He looked at me with an expression of a gonzo philosopher who was asked about the sense of life.

    ¡°Why? The same thing that every other weirdo is doing in this place. I''m going for the mountain!¡± he said and ran out again with a bag full of dirt. When he returned, he threw the empty bag and dropped himself down on his butt.

    ¡°All the way up!¡± he chanted, panting. ¡°Without detours! Throw me that bottle, brother.¡±

    He pointed to somewhere beneath me. I picked up a dirty bottle near my feet and passed it to him.

    ¡°But what exactly are you going to do? I mean, you''re not going to climb it this way.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, I am going to climb it! This way! This is my way!¡±

    He made a gulp and threw the bottle away. He sat in a deepening, that was running around the hill like a trench.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Sure, brother. Dead sure!¡± He jumped up and filled the bag again. ¡°You better not lose your time like that. I may overtake you, you know! He-he-he.¡± Giggling like a villain from an old movie, he ran up the slope. You''d think he''d be at least a little bit tired if not fully exhausted from such work, but he did not look that. In fact, he looked more energetic every time he finished another trip.

    A motorcycle approached us and stopped not too far away from me. The rider in balaclava and goggles ¨C all white, obviously ¨C turned the key off and shouted in a female voice,

    ¡°Still digging, Meyers?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Holly! All the way up!¡± he yelled from atop.

    ¡°That''s a long way to go, though,¡± I said.

    ¡°Well, as long as you''re going...¡± she didn''t finish and turned her head around.

    We watched the madman make several more trips, and I was utterly astounded by the way his energy was increasing every time.

    ¡°Okay.¡± the rider said with a sigh. ¡°You need a ride?¡±

    ¡°No, thank you,¡± I said.

    ¡°Then if anything, I''m around here.¡± She kicked the pedal and vroomed off, sending a cloud of white over me.

    <hr>

    That day I did not find what I was looking for. I returned to the ''Dead Fish'' and spent there another night. Maisha called me over the phone and scolded me for not letting them know what was going on with me. I had to apologize many times and promised, that I will not live them in the dark anymore.

    ¡°All right,¡± she said at last, ¡°are you sure everything is okay, though?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am very good now.¡±

    ¡°How much does Dow charge you?¡±

    I told her about our latest encounter with Dow and Ivan. She was very pleased to hear about it.

    ¡°Okay, honey, all the best luck to you! Send our regards to Ivan.¡±

    In the morning I went to Dow and put thirty dollars in front of him. Ivan wasn''t around, so it was interesting, how he was going to go about it this time. He stood a little indecisively but eventually took the money.

    ¡°Until the next time, then!¡±

    He nodded without looking at me. To be honest, I didn''t really care about his compassion anyway, as long as he lets me stay for a good price.

    I smiled and went off for my next trip.

 Chapter IX

    I went by the madman hill, which was now one of my landmarks. Meyers ¨C ''crazy white'' as I called him ¨C was busy with his own ''trips''. ¡°All the way up! Up, without detours!¡± he yelled while running up and down. ¡°I wonder where he sleeps, if he does at all,¡± I thought to myself while passing by.

    It was a hot and windy day again. Gusts of wind blew in my face repeatedly, not particularly strong, but highly unpleasant because of the dust. Distant ridges weren''t seen due to the haze. I walked on for about an hour after the hill until I noticed the building that I had been looking for.

    Heading there, I started to notice swirls of the dust of unusual forms flying across my way. Some of them looked like hand-drawn revolving vortexes, the kind you''d see in a cartoon; some of them didn''t even swirl, but swarms of whitish strips flying through the air. Some of those swarms looked like schools of fish that you could see in the ocean. Sometimes they even acted like schools of fish ¨C when I happened to pass through them, the stripes would fly around me and get back into the crowd.

    As I was getting closer to my target, the swarms started gaining complex forms. I was now seeing weird ghostly creatures running around me. They did it softly, without any sound, only the rustle of moving sand could be heard. It looked amusingly weird, but I didn''t feel threatened ¨C until I saw a form or figure, or shape, or whatever the hell you''d call it, that was walking at me with good speed, kicking up puffs of white powder with every step.

    I stopped in a stupor, not knowing what to do; the shape reached me and disappeared ¨C another gust of wind hit me in the face. My heart kept beating on after a short halt, I caught my breath and saw a new swarm of stripes float past me. Despite the wind still blowing, it slowed down right beside me and soared up, forming a finely outlined figure of a cartoonish ghost in transparent loose overall. It spread its ''arms'', and in place of its empty face a single stripe formed a pale whitish grin; it then dissipated in the air, and I once again was hit by a gust of wind.

    The building itself was now standing some 1000 feet away from me, and, to my surprise, I recognized it very well. Back in the day, when I was still a teenager, I spent a lot of time playing Sim City 4 with lots and lots of downloaded content. One of the things I downloaded was a factory building that had been modeled after the assembly workshop of the Highland Park Ford Plant in Detroit. It had been one of my favorite buildings in the game, and I had used to place it in almost every city (often to the detriment of ''industrial demand''). It was now standing in front of me ¨C here, in this desert ¨C shabby, dirty, dilapidated, with lots of its huge emerald windows broken, surrounded by a hoard of pale shapes flying through the air.

    I didn''t know what to make of it. The building was familiar, the shapes above, though eerie, did not look threatening (yet). A nasty feeling of interest was pushing me from inside, urging me to go in and study, but sober logic conflicted with it. Surely, entering this wreck with who knows what kind of clutter inside, accompanied by these flying shapes that are who knows what, was anything but a good idea.

    ¡°Look who''s talking,¡± I thought to myself though. ¡°As if coming to this desert at all was a good idea in the first place.¡±

    Besides, judging by what I had seen and had been told, the way to the mountain may take very different forms and go through very different circumstances. What if this strange place has something to do with my way? Then I''ll have to come here anyway.

    ¡°Can''t know without trying.¡± I mustered up my courage and went to the entrance.

    <hr>

    The gates were half-buried under heaps of sand; I crawled through upper apertures into the dim and cool, almost cold, lobby. Pale ghosts with circles instead of heads descended from above where they had been flying, followed me through the apertures, silently spread around the lobby, hid behind piles of metal bars, carts, stacks of furniture, and behind pillars. Their circle-heads seemed to be always turned to me.

    ¡°Are you my friends?¡± I asked them out loud. ¡°Or are you enemies?¡±

    They kept on hustling around without a response. A swish of sand and rustle of some stuff pushed by wind came from behind and from the front, and from above; it seemed like those were sounds made by ghosts, but I was pretty sure they weren''t. Somewhere on the other side of the building two metal things were clinging to each other, making ringing sounds: dong; dong, dong; dong-dong; dong.

    I went out from the lobby into the central aisle, which ran through the whole length of the building, and through all floors up to the glass roof. There was a lot of light and a lot of trash. With every step making a crackle, I walked along the aisle to the northern end of the building and stopped near a square hole in the floor with metal stairs leading down to it. Ghosts crowded on railings surrounding the hole, their circles now turned into it.

    I looked around and behind me, searching for other items to study, and the ghosts followed my gaze in swarms. They then got together and surrounded me with their whole crowd, only leaving open the way to the stairs.

    ¡°So what, you want me to go there?¡±

    I hesitated.

    ¡°And what if I don''t?¡± I asked them and made a step away from the stairs.

    A jaw flew at me with a ''puff'' sound (or maybe without sound, maybe I made the sound up myself); it was with triangular teeth, just like that shark''s jaw from the poster of the known movie. It was now gone, and I was now standing on heels clenching into handrails, trying not to fall down the stairs.

    ¡°You... little fucks!¡± I shouted when I gained my balance. The ghosts stood on the floor silently, their circle heads now supplemented with another line depicting a smirk. They waited, and I waited for a little too.

    I tried to pass them again, and this time I saw a full-on ghost shark with its thick body coming from the floor. It leaned onto me, and I could not help retreating. I went all the way down, followed by the wretched creature, into the dark corridor.

    ¡°So you are enemies after all?¡±

    The shark fell apart into little ghosts again, and they now were hanging on railings, standing on steps, flying over and crawling under, the same whitish smirk swaying inside their flat circled heads.

    I looked out into the corridor and noticed several bulbs of lights burning further down. Doubtful an abandoned building would still have electricity, and if it still does -- well, then it''s not that abandoned at all. And, it is hardly a good sign to be forced into a dark corridor of a not-so-abandoned building.

    In the faint light from the staircase, I saw a bunch of metal bars standing in the corner. I took one of them ¨C it was hefty but carryable.

    ¡°Talk to you later, assholes.¡±

    The ghosts did not react. Their crowd remained on the staircase as I was walking into the corridor.

    The sounds of the outer world soon faded; a weak hum and my steps on the metal floor were the only noises I heard. I passed the first bulb and was reaching the second one, when I heard a kind of scrunch or crackle somewhere above as if a bunch of stones and sand were spilling down a pipeline. The crunch soon stopped ¨C probably reached the end of a pipe, ¨C I was standing still and listening to a slight uproar in the otherwise monotonous hum, that sounded like a trail of a very far voice. At the very least, it seemed to me like a trail of a voice ¨C I certainly did not want it to be an actual voice at that moment.

    All became quiet again eventually. I listened a little more, checked my backpack, adjusted the hoodie in the straps, held the metal bar tighter, and moved on through the dirty and littered with industrial trash corridor. Further down it made a turn and ended in a gate that lead to a huge black expanse ¨C an underground workshop, probably? Thick heavy metal doors were open, and above it burned the third light bulb.

    I heard another uproar, and this time it surely was a voice.

    I very carefully went through the gates onto the metal bridge that ran along the whole perimeter of the workshop. Long and narrow gaps in its ceiling let in scarce light and trickles of sand, that were spilling down with quiet rustle.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ''Hey-ya-a!'' reached me from the farthest end of the workshop, sonorous and very distinct, followed by a clang.

    Maybe I should turn back?

    I was scared, but I was curious too. Until you''re hurt, your interest does not die. For some people, it doesn''t die even after they get hurt. This place was eerie and dirty, and overall unpleasant, but it didn''t hurt me yet, and I was dying to know just what the heck was going on here. So I moved forward ¨C to the right of the gate, along the bridge. On the left of me was a black void of the workshop, on the right ¨C a concrete wall with doors. Some of them had signs with unclear inscriptions: ''GC'', ''Prompt'', ''Short Walk'', ''SotBG''.

    I passed the corner and went by a staircase leading down. I decided to stay ''up'' ¨C a better choice in given circumstances, I figured.

    Another ''Hey-ya-a!'' reached me from the dark, followed by three clashes of metal. I didn''t know if I had been spotted, or if somebody was just excited; I pressed into the wall and heard another shout from the different of the workshop. Then another shout from the opposite direction and three more clashes. Then more clashes, then four more, and yet another four. The whole void started rattling with metal.

    I noticed, that one of the doors near me was open. I slipped there ¨C it was once again a dimly lit room, with beams of light coming from somewhere above. Rattling kept going, becoming more rhythmical; I went further into the room, trying not to stumble upon jumbles of scrap. A stuffy stench hit my nose.

    ''Things'' were hanging on the farthest wall. Human corpses, half decomposed, with clothes still dangled around their rotten flesh, and flocks of hair still hanging from their heads. They were hung by the hands, in Christ''s pose. Some of them had masks on, some didn''t. Some of them didn''t look human. Some of them looked somehow familiar. Kind of familiar; too familiar.

    I dropped the bar, that I was holding, walking back away from them. Rattling went on and on, shouting getting louder.

    This was too much, way too much. This is not how it''s supposed to be. What the fuck? I came here to be your ally, what are you doing? How is this even possible?! What are these bodies doing here?

    Somebody was walking down the bridge. I jumped into a shadow, then slipped into a niche in the wall. They passed by the door, plums of yellow light from torches sliding across the floor. Then one of them popped into the room ¨C a human creature with an iron mask. It swayed its torch around, looking.

    ¡°Come on now, eh!¡± somebody (something) shouted from behind the doorway.

    It went off and the steps on the bridge continued, followed by another set of steps and voices.

    Getting out by the bridge did not look like an option ¨C ?it was getting crowded. I checked the niche and found another doorway to the neighboring room ¨C with ''things'' looming on the wall too. I ran across it as carefully as possible, and on the other side, there was a door again to the next one. I ran through another room ¨C again with ''things'', ¨C and then another room, kicking one of the last doors and hearing it slam shut behind me. I found myself at an exit that led to the bridge again. This, however, seemed to be some other workshop, probably adjacent to the first one.

    ¡°...Forks and spoons, sticks and stones, whatever is material, is a weapon.¡± A male sonorous voice was coming from below. Here several significant gaps in the ceiling let in enough light to see. On the ground of the workshop, there was a massive congregation of human figures, sitting in a circle, surrounded by torches. They were all in masks, and in the center there stood a preacher ¨C masked as well.

    ¡°No limits exist for us. You need a beating? You take the stone and make the beating! You need cutting? You take that metal bar and do the cutting.¡±

    Rattling became scarce, other voices went down. On the other side of the workshop, there burned a bulb, and it seemed, another corridor began under it. There was no way back with that door behind me shut. I could reach the corridor if I walked the bridge very carefully.

    ¡°For the sake of business. Our business, our matters!¡±

    Nobody looked up; I started moving.

    ¡°We have spent here for too long, brothers!¡± the preacher continued after a sigh. ¡°In this silence that is engulfing us! In this shadow, ceaseless fucking void. Enough! There is a storm coming. The storm is coming, and we will be part of it; fuck them! They did not decide what we do or not, they''ve been telling us to stay down here for dozens of years. WHO ARE THEY?!¡±

    I almost fell. I clenched into the railings, looking below ¨C no, this had not been about me; I remained unnoticed.

    ¡°And who are we? They are nothing, pieces of scraps, scraps of existence, pathetic copycats of surrounding nature. We might look like them, but that is not to be confused with disguise. Look at our masks ¨C they''re like them, but they are not, for it is iron. Body of steel is our body; our souls are oil and benzine; dust is our blood, and blood is our food, and we will have our food!¡±

    I passed the middle of the bridge.

    ¡°Fellow brothers, we will have the food, and we will have it all for ourselves! They do not tell us what to do, what to eat, what to execute. They do not judge us! She ¨C does not judge us! She is away, off, out, not here! In the presence here, there''s only us. You! You judge yourself, you, and nothing else, nobody out there, but you! US!¡±

    70 feet until the corridor. Nobody seemed to be in it. I crawled on

    ¡°We judge, we decide, we make the offerings, the decisions. We watch it go and we make it good. Brothers, good! Make it good ¨C your good! You hear me? Good the our way, not hers, not theirs, their ways go over the dust hills, they spit sand and breath powder and think this is the thing. Nonsense, hubris, fucking foolery, whether it is a word or not. Those are their demise! And this ¨C is our way.¡±

    40 feet left. Very carefully I crawled on.

    ¡°Our precious, darling, dearest, nicest, sweetest way. Do not falter, do not waver, don''t let yourself fear. Look at our masks ¨C they''re cast of iron. Body of steel is our body; our souls are oil and benzine; dust is our blood, and...

    ¡­

    ¡­

    ¡°Just WHERE do you think you''re GOIN''?¡±

    My heart dropped. Shriek and rasp ¨C all masks turned to me.

    ¡°Fuck!¡±

    I sprint the remaining distance with loud clashing steps.

    The congregation got up in a terrible noise and spread around.

    ¡°Get that sucker!¡± screamed the preacher.

    The corridor turned out to be a short passage into a big storage room. Rumbling ad screeching had been coming from everywhere ¨C from the workshop, from below, from above, from the doorway in the front. I turned left, through another doorway; then another one into a smaller room.

    Suddenly I found myself in a confined room with one small light bulb in the ceiling, no windows, and only one entrance. A human body in the mask was sitting there leaning against the wall, its limbs lay numbly, knees tight together. It looked dead, but it might have been alive. Beside it stood a gurney, several long metal rods were lying around down on the floor.

    The rattling crowd was coming up to the door. It was a dead end ¨C I was cornered.

    What do you do when you''re cornered?

    You fight.

    I picked up two rods, moved the gurney closer to the doorway, and aligned its position. I waited, I waited; the mob of masks rushed into the light spot ¨C I charged at it screaming, the gurney in front of me. The mob spread away, I ran behind it swaying the rods in all directions, hit one body, smacked another one, got punched myself, smashed someone''s mask, and got caught. The gurney went on; I felt dozens of hands clutching on me with bawl, I strained all my forces and fetched away, losing a shoe, a trouser leg, and, apparently, some of my skin; jumped on the gurney and rode it all the way back to the big storage room.

    More masks were waiting for me there. I pushed the gurney at them, pierced another masked one with my rod, charging through a new doorway. There was another dark premise, but this time a brightly lit staircase was looming at the far end of it. I ran there, I ran with all my speed, breaking through invisible jumbles, getting cut and slashed, losing another shoe on the way.

    Little ghosts were waiting for me at the staircase.

    ¡°Fuck off! You fuck off!¡±

    I scattered them with the rod and ran up. These goddamn stairs were much higher than before, but I didn''t care ¨C as long as they end on the surface.

    ¡°Alex!¡±

    I pretended that I did not hear that and kept on climbing. I was panting, suffocating, falling down; I dropped the rod and it clanged down a step, another step, and flew down the well.

    ¡°You think you can get away from us, Alex?¡±

    I stopped and hung on the handrail to catch my breath. The masked crowd was hustling below, they did not seem to be following me anymore.

    ¡°You are not getting away, Alex boy!¡± I figured it was the preacher, that was now standing in the middle of the lower landing. ¡°Come on down, boy, we will have a talk!¡±

    ¡°Go fuck yourself.¡±

    I couldn''t shout, so I whispered. I couldn''t run, so I crawled with every limb I could use for that. I couldn''t stop, so I pressed on and on, until my hands touched the ever-pleasing, unexpectedly lovely, soothingly soft, and warm white sand, my nose smelled the breath of fresh air, and my eyes were blinded by the ferocious sun.

    <hr>

    And there it was. There it stood in all its glory. Grand. Magnificent. Indescribably huge. Its apex is sharp and shiny, pointing up in the sky. Just like in the picture, only much more enormous.

    I crawled on the ground spitting out blood, sweat, and sand. I looked at the mountain and could not turn away; the howling of the wind made me think that there was some kind of solemn music playing. I knew I should not have turned away, but I had been followed. I still felt danger, and so my head turned back on its own.

 Chapter X

    Nobody jumped out of the black hole of the bunker-like entrance behind me. Nothing but white endless plain and high blue sky was in front of me. The mountain was gone; I''d found it and I''d lost it. I lay with my face down in the dirt, waiting.

    Looks like they don''t come out in the light, those masked humanoids.

    A motorcycle roared in the distance. By the nature of its sound, it seemed like it was going past me, but then turned around and was now getting closer. It stopped right in front of me; Holly took off her goggles and looked at me.

    ¡°Wow, boy. You look like you went through some real dark shit.¡±

    ¡°You have no idea how fucking right you are,¡± I mumbled while trying to get up on my feet.

    She jumped off the motorcycle and helped me get up. Surprisingly, I could stand just all right. The wound on my left shin was bleeding, but it wasn''t deep. My body hurt, but I could move. I lost my shoes and my backpack with the notepad, together with the hoodie ¨C that was the worst outcome in this endeavor. I was alive though, and that felt the best.

    Holly handed me her bottle, I washed my face, wetted my hair, and made several gulps.

    ¡°Okay, fighter-boy, where do I get you?¡±

    I stood there thinking for a minute. The factory building stood behind the black entrance some 900 feet away. Two metal things were still clanging into each other somewhere there; streaks of sand blown by wind were flowing off the building''s roof.

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    ¡°How much?¡± I asked her.

    ¡°For this bloody mess of yours? You can run for free all right. Consider me your ambulance,¡± she said with a kind smile.

    Another cloud of dust ran across the plain; I thought I saw a ghost in it again, but that was just a whirl this time.

    ¡°Take me to the ''Dead Fish''.¡±

    <hr>

    We rode over the desert fast and smooth. I sat behind Holly holding her tight, thinking about my experience. How could she do this to me?

    How could you? I came here to be your ally, yet you put me through this crap. What are these bodies? What did you do to them? What are you going to do to me?

    Have I actually made a mistake coming here? Answer me, I need to know now!

    How do they know my name? My real name is Alex. I did not tell this name to anybody here. I used my pseudonym everywhere. Yet these freaks somehow know my name.

    Holly slowed the motorcycle down and stopped near a sign pole. She had to fix the splashboard, so we got off.

    As with everything else here, the sign on the pole was all white. I wiped it with my hand ¨C ''Graveyards'' was the word written on it. I looked out in the distance and started seeing tombstones materializing from the air here and there, and eventually everywhere. They spread over the plane all the way from us and to the horizon. It was a huge graveyard, apparently.

    ¡°Can see it now?¡± Holly asked from the motorcycle.

    ¡°Yes, I... very well can.¡±

    ¡°What are these, climbers?¡± I asked coming back.

    ¡°Climbers, wanna-be-climbers, couldn''t-get-to-it-climbers, non-climbers. There are lots of them here, it''s only one of the graveyards.¡±

    Tombstones stood in a multitude of straight rows, like a low-grown stone forest. The uncaring wind carried another one of its dust clouds over it as if making sure, that everything ¨C absolutely everything ¨C in this desert was always white.

    Holly fixed the splashboard, and we drove on, away from the graves, away from the wind.

 Chapter XI

    ¡°You''re sure you don''t need special treatment?¡± she asked me when we reached the ''Dead Fish''.

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I''m fine. Shower, peroxide, bandage... and a little bit of a drink. That''s all I need.¡±

    ¡°Well. I''m out there all day, every day. If you need a ride... do you have my number?¡±

    We exchanged our numbers and she rode off back to her territory.

    I entered the shop, dusty, dirty, sweaty, bleeding, and stinking. There were several customers inside: a pair of gentlemen at the first to the door table, a girl a little further, and Ivan at his favorite place.

    ¡°Some ways are rather dirty,¡± said one of the gentlemen when I passed them ¨C without mockery, more like a fact statement, so I didn''t take a note.

    Ivan was drunk as a skunk. When he raised his head and saw me, his face first broke out in a smile, but then turned into a grimace of terror.

    ¡°Fuck me!¡± he shouted. ¡°Have you fought some local popos or something?¡±

    I fell in a chair at a nearby table.

    ¡°Worse.¡±

    ¡°Shi-it. You look... Dow! Hey! The man needs water and food! Provide, you fucking Scrooge!¡±

    Dow, however, was already busy. He went to me and asked if I was going to eat first or go to my room. I felt, that I needed to talk first.

    ¡°Bring me food,¡± I said, ¡°and something to drink.¡±

    ¡°Woah, dude, that''s an unknown side of ya! Didn''t think that, didn''t think.¡± Ivan was drinking vodka, he made a shot and breathed into his hand.

    ¡°Say, have you ever thought that you made a mistake?¡± I asked him.

    ¡°Pf, why, all the time. All the fucking time dude.¡±

    ¡°What would you do? If you realized, that this was too big a mistake, what would you do about it?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, man. You do nothing. You''re chosen. She chose you, and she decides you... You go your way, that''s it. That''s fucking it, man.¡±

    He poured himself another shot, meanwhile, Dow brought me a bowl of fried potatoes with chicken and a bottle of gin.

    ¡°And what if I can''t go my way?¡±

    ¡°No ''can''t'', dude. You go, or you get fucked and then still go.¡± He threw the shot up. ¡°What the fuck have you been through, anyway?¡±

    I told him my story: about the building, about the ghosts, about the bodies, about the preacher, about the asshole in masks, about them knowing my real name.

    ¡°Damn,¡± he spat, ¡°that''s some wacky shit.¡±

    ¡°You know what''s...¡± I said while eating my meal. ¡°This is too much! Who are these people? I mean... I think I know of them! Of those, who were hanging there. How? Why? Why does she do this to me?¡±

    ¡°Why do you think it was she, though?¡± Ivan took several potatoes from my bowl and smacked them. ¡°I mean... that ''bodies'' thing. Why do you think it was she? It could very well be those fucks in maks... sk... suh-kuh-suh.¡± Another shot of vodka was poured into the glass.

    ¡°You know, it may not even be real,¡± he continued. ¡°This shitty place in-an-ovitselve isn''t quite real, after all. Fucking illusion, to fuck with you specifically is what that was. And is.¡±

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    I finished my meal and poured myself gin.

    ¡°This might be why they knew your name. Because it''s your personal place. T''s your own factory, dude, ha-ha!¡±

    Meir''s words rang in my head: she''s merciful and knowledgeable. Well, if that''s the case, it might indeed be something to do with me. That whole mess in its entirety.

    ¡°Whatever it is, how am I supposed to go through this?¡± I asked, and Ivan started getting ready to pronounce the sentence that I already knew, ¡°Okay, I get it. I have to figure it out.¡±

    ¡°T''s-right, dude. Cheers!¡± We clinked and drank, and he hit the glass hard into the table.

    ¡°Hey, Ivan, aren''t you good?¡± Dow asked from behind the counter.

    ¡°Yes, brother, I am good! Bring me another one.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but that''s what I mean ¨C you are good already, don''t you think?¡±

    ¡°Hey, I decide when I''m good myself! This is my way, for fuck''s sake, bring it!¡±

    He got up, then sat down, then turned around, dropped his glass to the floor, and sat up straight again.

    ¡°Hey, you stay here?¡± he asked me.

    ¡°Sometimes here, sometimes at Meir.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah, that fuck. Pardon, I mean, man. Yeah, he''s a good man, for real. And Maisha. You''re lucky as fuck that you''ve met them! Good people. They are.¡±

    ¡°That''s another thing that bugs me,¡± I started but then stopped for a minute. ¡°I mean... I don''t want to sound mean, but why are they helping me? They already gave me so much...¡±

    ¡°Pff, because you do! Because that''s how climbers are. You seen it yourself!¡± Ivan threw his hand at me, pointing at my hurt leg and dirty clothes. ¡°What shit we all go through here. We ain''t doing it on our own, you know! We help each other. That bitch...¡± he looked around and defiantly raised his voice. ¡°That fucking whore! She ain''t helping us! She chose, and she''s done, ain''t know nothing, bitch, go fuck yourself. We!¡± he raised his hand preachingly. ¡°We ¨C are here to help ourselves. And so we do.¡± He thumped the tabletop with his finger and began to get up.

    ¡°Awight, fawks... oh shit.¡± I caught him as he swayed at my side. I helped him get to his feet ¨C he could barely stand.

    ¡°Well, I guess... I am good, ha-ha!¡± he toppled over to the counter. ¡°Dow! Where''s my fucking bottle?¡±

    ¡°Bro, haven''t you said it yourself that you''re good?¡±

    ¡°Eht''s-right. I''m good ¨C here! But I''m outa here, and I need a balloon of gas for the road. You get me? To stay good, all the way.¡±

    Up ¨C I finished inwardly. All the way up. No detours.

    Ivan and Dow quarreled at the counter, and I sat with the glass of gin thinking. I noticed a sheet of paper on Ivan''s table.

    ¡°Dow,¡± Ivan shouted, ¡°I''m tellin'' you, I''m leaving!¡±

    ¡°That is right, Ivan, and you, again, said it yourself, that we all care about each other! I care about you not being able to reach home...¡±

    ¡°You... pff-fuck you! You care? You''re fucking Scrooge is all, your booze reserves is all you care!¡±

    I took the sheet and read what was written on it.

    <blockquote>

    ¡°Have you ever thought of

    ¡°Easy way of getting all the precious things like

    ¡°Silver, jade, lapis, gold?

    ¡°She will halp you with this!

    ¡°Tsu-nly will require you to go through water, fire, wind and dust, and she will garandmotherly stockpile it for

    ¡°Ye!¡±

    </blockquote>

    It was an acrostic verse with the first syllables of every line spelling her name. I twisted the sheet in my hands, marveling at the ridiculous way this thing was spelled: ''halp'', garandmother'', ''Tsu-nly'' for ''it is only'' (followed then by ''will'' for some reason). Then I turned the sheet to the opposite side; there it read, ¡°And yet I still want...¡±

    Ivan kept on arguing with Dow. I thought at the table, watching them, studying the verse, thinking.

    What do I want?

    I wanted to shower. Then I wanted to sleep. And then I wanted to spend some time in a good place, with good people.

    Somehow Ivan forced himself a bottle out of Dow.

    ¡°Eht''s right, Ahoi, asshole!¡± he screamed grabbing it. He turned around ¨C some tableware flew off the counter and broke on the floor. He then rammed several tables and chairs, rushed his way to the aisle through furniture with loud unintelligible swearing, and suddenly stopped still.

    The door to the shop was wide open. Outside it was late evening. The sun was not visible, it was in the west and obviously very low; the plain was yellow and the mountains in the distance were lit directly from the side. It was a typical view, empty desert, empty sky ¨C but not for Ivan. He stood silently and then grinned with a devilish smirk.

    ¡°Stand still, bitch. I''m coming.¡± He went ahead swaying from side to side, not turning away from what he saw.

    ¡°Send my regards to Meir!¡± He cried from the doorway and left off.

    ¡°Okay, I''ll have to call Holly,¡± Dow mumbled at his counter.

    I sat at my table watching Ivan go away into the desert. I thought about what I wanted: I wanted to shower; I wanted to sleep; I wanted to spend time with Maisha and Meir''s family ¨C to spend time with good people. I wanted to get a new backpack. I wanted to find some easy-to-carry weapon. I wanted to fix my skill and agility. And then...

    Well, I guess I ¨C just as well ¨C still want to reach that mountain.