The Sky is the Limit

"The sky is the limit!"

Darren mumbles the overused phrase under his breath and climbs the next flight of steps. For good measure, he adds a string of colourful curses. Why him? They could have sent an elder or an apprentice. But no, the choice fell on him, the guy with his feet and thoughts planted firmly on solid ground.
Darren is content with his life and not aspiring to reach the sky, like his peers. This quest sucks. He doubts the sky dwellers will invite him into their fancy halls. All his teachers fawned over their superiority, and now he is chosen to contact these angelic beings.

Frustrated, Darren kicks his sturdy boot against the rusty steel beam supporting the stairs and listens as the boom resounds through the structure. Instead of dissolving his anger, it reminds him he is over six thousand feet above the ground, climbing a fragile, man-made structure. His goal seems unattainable, and to top off his misery, he develops a major headache. Like an echo, a second boom travels along the girder past him, taking Darren by surprise.

The metallic sound loses itself in the cloudy expanses below, and nausea turns his stomach when he focuses on the distant ground. Heights never were his thing. He gags and holds onto the handrail until the vibration of the stairs shakes him out of his stupor. Thankful for the interruption, he looks up, reaching for his dagger.

On the landing above stands a figure, shrouded in tendrils of mist like an ethereal vision. A shiver runs down Darren's spine. When the wind dissolves the cloud the person gains reality. Hands planted on hips, legs splayed, clad in an assortment of unmatched, oversized and formless garments, the newcomer seems unfazed by Darren's display of a blade. A mane of unkempt black hair obscures everything of the face but a grin, showing two rows of pearly teeth.

"Look at that groundhog! What made you leave your burrow?"

The female voice is melodic, but the words sting. Darren straightens and pushes the dagger back into its leather sheath. No need to pick a fight if he can deliver his message and be done with his unwanted mission.

"The engineer sends a message of utmost importance for the sky council. Please listen."

"Me?"

The grin disappears and a grubby hand pushes the locks aside. Two inquisitive, brown eyes muster Darren from above. The girl might be in her late teens.

"Do you take me for a sky leader? Well, groundhogs are renowned for their tiny brains."

Darren suppresses the anger rising in his throat. His task is to deliver the engineer's message, then he is free to return home. Home, where the ground is solid, the people are friendly, and his fiancée awaits him. He has no business talking to an arrogant sky brat.

"I don't take you for anything. So, if you won't bring me to your leaders, let me pass. I don't have all week."

The girl doesn't budge and they engage in a staring match. Darren, not ready to give up first, is glad when a gust tousles his adversary's hair and hides her eyes. She steps aside.

"Fine, go visit their fancy halls. But don't claim I didn't warn you."

He frowns.

"Warn me? You didn't. What's the problem?"

"For you to find out, groundhog."

She moves aside, and he climbs past her, noticing she's almost a head shorter than him. Aren't sky people supposed to be tall? Perhaps she isn't a genuine sky girl, a reason more not to meddle with her and lose precious time. But before he reaches the next landing, the foreigner catches up.

"You really plan to go to the city, do you? How many days have you been climbing?"

"Not that it is your business, but I started this morning. And I plan to keep going till I'm there. So you better don't distract me."

A hard yank at his sleeve pulls Darren to an abrupt stop.

"You've climbed all the way in one day? From the ground? Aren't you afraid of altitude sickness? You'll ruin your health if you go further."

Darren is taken aback. His new acquaintance has lost her mocking tone and seems genuinely concerned. He turns towards her. If the hair doesn't hide her face, she is almost pretty.

"Listen, I must deliver an urgent message. That's all I need to know."

"Either you're dumb or expendable. It's impossible to climb from bellow to the city level without acclimatisation. You'll develop pulmonary oedema and are dead before the full moon."

Darren hesitates. What if the girl is right? It's a fact no one climbed the stairs in generations. Only the damage by the earthquake made this desperate step necessary. The girl studies his face.

"They didn't inform you, right? The city is anchored at 15 000 feet. We're near 10 000, give or take. From here, you can't ascend over one thousand a day. Your body needs time to adapt. Headaches are an early indicator the sickness claims you."

Headaches. Darren is aware of the building pressure in his skull too well. He rubs his temples, trying to figure out if he should believe her. The girl shakes her head and takes his hand. Without another word, she descends the stairs, pulling him after her.

"Wait, I can't, you don't understand!"

"I understand that you're about to kill yourself out of ignorance. Spend the night in my shelter. If you are better, you can continue tomorrow, respecting the rules. Come on, before I regret the offer. I won't eat you."

Intrigued, and secretly glad for her obvious concern, Darren follows her downwards. As much as he hates to lose his hard-won height, her words worry him. The engineer's instructions were vague. Darren doubts she knows much about the ultimate climb herself. What if the reason no one ever returned from a sky mission was the mysterious sickness the girl insists is so dangerous?

~ ~ ~

Several dozen landings down, his guide stops and turns to stare at Darren with a frown.

"How's your head?"

"Better, thanks. Is it really an effect of the altitude?"

"You bet. Altitude and dehydration. I'll bring you to my place. If you break something, I throw you off the tower. Understood?"

He swallows and nods, not sure if her words are meant as harsh as they sound. Falling has been his nightmare since he was informed about this mission yesterday. He gasps in alarm when the girl climbs over the railing and moves along a beam with swift steps. Darren holds his breath until she reaches the point where three girders intersect and form a small platform. She turns around.

"Best don't look down. And take care, the metal is slippery when wet."

"I'm not walking out there. It's unsafe."

"Listen, groundhog, you can stay where you are or join me, I don't care. These beams are two feet wide, if you don't trip over your own legs, you can't fall. The sun sets in an hour, and it's getting cold already. Do you want to sleep on the stairs?"

Darren hates to admit she's right, the temperature drop is significant, and he didn't bring a blanket for the night. Reluctantly, he climbs over the handrail and steps onto the broad beam. A cold wind tears at his clothes, and for a moment, he clings to the railing with closed eyes and all the force he can muster. The girl's laughter irks him on. Not ready to admit defeat, he takes one cautious step after another. Darren's breathing is heavy when he reaches the platform. She rewards him with a smile.

"See? Nothing to worry about. Though I wouldn't recommend it in a hailstorm or lightning. Pays to ride them out in an insulator."

Without allowing him to rest, she steps over the girder moving skywards at an angle of sixty degrees and continues her path along the beams. Darren sighs, but he won't give up, not in front of an arrogant teenager. He finds the task is easier if he keeps his eyes fixed on her back and sets one foot in front of the other without glancing down. At least the clouds obscure the distant ground.

They pass two more junctures in the mesh of girders. With growing confidence, Darren follows his guide until they reach another walkway. His suspicion is kindled, and he tries to estimate where it leads. As soon as they stand securely behind the railing, he takes the girl's arm.

"Why did we walk the beams if there is a perfectly safe path leading from the stairway to here?"

Her lips curl into a broad grin. She brushes his hand away.

"I needed to know you have guts. To reach the city, you must do worse than this simple exercise, believe me. The stairs in the upper tier are anything but safe. Come!"

Darren grits his teeth. As annoying as she is, it is obvious she knows far more about the tower than the engineer. Moments later, they reach a mushroom-shaped construction placed around a vertical beam. He is sure he has encountered something similar before. It takes a while till he remembers the drawings on the map the master showed him. She called these contraptions sky bells, without explaining their function.
While the girl opens a small door, Darren knocks his knuckle on the brown, weatherworn surface.

"Is this ceramic? What's the use?"

"It's an insulator. They were built to protect the important equipment from lightning and to offer a refuge for the maintenance crews. Also, this is my home."

Darren follows her into a round, windowless room seven steps across. A bare lightbulb hangs from the ceiling and spreads a pale, yellow light. The girl observes his gaze and shrugs.

"One of the last. The wind generator still works, that's why I like this place. It's heated in winter and has a functioning light. I collected the bulbs from the other shelters and stored them in the last three that remain usable."

Darren nods and walks around the room, careful not to step on the mattresses or overturn the small table placed between them. With growing amazement, he inspects the shelves lining the curved walls. They are cluttered with strange mementoes, birds' nests, colourful eggs and an astounding collection of books. Not even the engineer owns so many.

"Have you read them?"

The girl glances up from a stove in the corner.

"Most. Did you bring food?"

"Yeah, well, not enough to last several days. I thought I'd climb to the city in one go and return the next day."

She shakes her head, indicating how hard it is to put up with so much ignorance, but continues to chop vegetables into a pot.

"You're lucky I found you, groundhog. Also that the harvest is decent this year. The meal is on me. You'll need what you have to finish your quest."

"Stop calling me groundhog. My name is Darren. What about you, who are you and why do you live alone up here? And where do you get your food?"

She stares into her pot and stirs the stew, face hidden by her bangs. For a long moment, Darren is convinced she won't answer his questions. But she surprises him once more. With a swift gesture, she twists her hair into a bun and fixes it with a metal pin.

"I'm Jean, last survivor of the maintenance crew. Though this tower is beyond maintenance. The skylings hardly care if the tower falls into disrepair, So I concentrate on maintaining myself. My garden is located a few levels down. It's warmer there and rains more often."

Her words convey disdain for the sky people. Darren suspects it is based on personal experience and is tempted to pry for more information. Although by now, he has learned it's better to wait until she is ready to open up by herself. Still wary, he shrugs off his backpack and sits down on a mattress. His exhausted legs are cramping, and his rumbling stomach reminds him of the skipped meal at noon. At least the hideout offers protection from the eternal winds.

"Thanks for the invitation, Jean. I'm glad we met. I fear the engineer doesn't know much about the sky world. The last time someone made the climb was before my birth. They never returned. Legends mention air-bound communication before the clouding, and the engineer insists there was a communication line to the city in the beginning. But it sounds like a miracle. Imagine being able to talk to someone in the sky! But now, the foundation of the north tower crumbles, and we need to tell them."

Darren interrupts his monologue when Jean looks up in alarm.

"Wait, you say the north tower is insecure? What about the others?"

"They weren't affected. But if north falls, they might follow, according to the engineer."

"If your engineer is right, the city falls and this tower will be crushed. How long do we have?"

Darren shrugs, recalling the discussion in the council. Days, perhaps, months at most, was the unanimous decision of the elders. He wishes he hadn't been eavesdropping, that his mind would be at ease without the illegal knowledge. Perhaps to be chosen for the mission is an ultimate punishment.

"Days or weeks. We're doomed if the worst scenario happens and another earthquake destabilises the structure further."

Jean's eyes widen.

"Why come up here in the first place if the site is about to fall? You will die too."

"Someone has to tell them. I'm the engineer's messenger, and I'm not supposed to know the truth, only deliver the letter."

"An expendable pawn. No need to tell you about altitude sickness as you're going to die, either way. Your engineer is not better than the city dwellers."

Darren wants to ask her about her experience with the skylings, but she interrupts him with a raised hand. The furrow on her forehead deepens as she steps to a shelf and reaches for a book. It's binding is frayed, and she carefully leaves through loose pages while she drops to the mattress beside him.

"Here it is. Acclimatisation to high altitude. It's an ancient report about climbing the Himalayas. They are mountains reaching even higher than the sky city. People used to climb them for fun, before the clouding."

Impressed, Darren leans over to get a look at the book, brushing the brittle pages with his fingertips.

"If the tower falls, your library will be lost."

"Like our lives. We must try to reach the city fast. Here."

She pulls a folded piece of paper from the back of the book. Darren watches as she carefully opens the small package. It contains a few greyish pills.

"They are supposed to help with the height. We will climb at sunrise tomorrow. Better sleep now."

~ ~ ~

They reach the giant maze of girders supporting the city around noon. After a restless sleep and a hasty breakfast at dawn, Darren feels exhausted. Jean was right about the stairs being in disrepair. Only her experience and an improvised safety line brought them past the treacherous stretches. This high up, the strong winds have loosened rusty bolts, steps hang askew or are missing.
Jean, wrapped up in an ancient jacket, her locks hidden by a thick scarf slung around her head, points to a door in a vertical tube.

"This was the main access for the maintenance workers. I've seldom used it, the city dwellers don't like visitors."

Darren holds onto a railing with numb fingers and tries to concentrate. He is unsure if the dizziness is a side effect of the height or the pill Jean insisted he takes. At least his head doesn't pound as much today.

"We have no choice. Well, I haven't. Thanks for guiding me here, Jean. It was a pleasure to know you."

She snorts, and Darren is sure her gaze would cut him in half if this were possible.

"I'm coming with you. You won't find the city hall without me, not without being arrested. Besides, you must descend to the shelter for the night, remember? How will you reach it without help?"

He tries to hide his smile and the fact he appreciates her company more than he is ready to admit. His guide already works the massive latch of the door. In the tube, a steep ladder leads upwards to a hatch. They exit into an empty room, floors, walls and ceiling made from rusty steel plates. Countless bundles of aluminium tubes and faded fabric are stacked along one wall, wooden boxes in a corner. Darren has no time to explore as Jean pulls him to the exit. The ancient lock of the metal door is broken, and it swings open on screeching hinges.

Silently, they follow a maze of tunnels and stairs upwards to better-maintained levels. Darren tries to keep track of the turns and intersections, but without his guide, he'd be lost.

Finally, they emerge in a wide open space. It is protected against the wind by a glass roof supported by arching beams. Darren stops and gawks at the people populating the area, strolling between potted shrubs, small trees and flower beds. They wear colourful, flowing robes, their short, spiky hair died in all the shades of the rainbow. Jean yanks at his sleeve.

"Come on, don't draw attention. We must reach the council before the guards spot us."

With a glance, he takes in the girl's faded and torn garments and his own rough outfit. It's impossible to mistake them for anything but invaders in this idyllic, multicoloured scene. While they fade into another warren of access ways, be bursts with questions.

"How is this magic even possible? What do they eat?"

"They have gardens. Like mine, only bigger. What does it matter? If you're right, they'll have to abandon the city, anyway."

"I've seen the damage to the tower foundation. It won't stand for long."

"So you say. And I felt the quake. Though I doubt the council will believe you."

She pulls to a stop at an intersection. From the shadows, they watch as four armed guards pass without spotting them. Their grey, immaculate uniforms blend in with the colour of the hallway. Jean relaxes when they disappear around a corner and pulls him on.

"Jean, I appreciate what you're doing here. But I need to know more. For what do they need armed guards? And why are you the last of the maintenance crew? What happened to the others?"

With a deep sigh, she pulls him into a nook.

"You know the city was built when the surface became uninhabitable, right? It was a haven for the wealthy and important. My people were supposed to tend to the tower while yours remained behind on the ground to ensure it was protected from hostile attacks. They were not sure it would be self-sustaining."

Darren nods. Yes, that's history. But there weren't many attacks. The ground dwellers dwindled during the great famine and the plague. Only the engineer's tribe thrived on the stored supplies during the hard years. The soil took generations to become fertile again, capable to sustain a healthy harvest. But he needs to know more about those who lived it out in the heights. Jean shrugs.

"The city dwellers cut my people off out of fear of the plague. Many died before they established a way to grow their own food. There were accidents too since the towers started to decay. I was a child when my desperate folks were driven by a dry summer to beg entrance to the city. It was denied, and a raid ensued. Everyone went except my grandfather, two old women, and me. No-one came back. Grace fell the next season while plundering a bird's nest. Granddad didn't make it to the shelter in a thunderstorm, and the last one, Lou, died of a cold. I had no means to heal her, so I went to the city to ask for medicine. The guards caught me, and when I managed to flee, I found her dead."

Darren stares at his boots. Suddenly, his own, well-ordered life under the strict regime of the engineer seems privileged.

"Jean, when we're done here, come down with me. We will find a place for you."

"Are you sure? Grandpa told me bad stories about the grounders. They sacrifice strangers."

He has no answer to this accusation. Yes, he heard the tale of foreigners killed to mollify the anger of the gods. The engineers follow the book of rules without mercy. Otherwise, Darren wouldn't be here today. He is aware he'd been sacrificed to mollify the anger of the ancient gods if he'd declined the mission presented to him as an honour. Bringing Jean home might be a bad idea. She seems to read his thoughts.

"Let's take one step after the other. We could travel to the western mountains together. Sometimes, when the nights are clear, you can see fires or lanterns in the hills. Lou said there must be people. Each winter I count more lights."

Hope swings in her voice, and Darren nods but doesn't bother to voice his doubts. If she is right, why has he never heard of other villages? Does the engineer know about them? He follows Jean's lead, his mind still occupied by her revelation. At the entrance to a carpeted hall, she stops and glances at him.

"Ready for the meeting?"

Darren swallows his sudden anxiety.

"Right. Wait here for me?"

Her brief hug takes him by surprise. A glance over his shoulder tells him she already faded back into the shadows. Another deep breath, and ignoring his shaking knees, he walks up to the guards in front of the ornate double doors. They frown and lift their weapons. Darren makes sure his open hands are visible and empty.

"Good day, gentlemen. I come with a message to the council from the first engineer."

The man to the left lifts a device to his mouth. Darren tries to understand his mumbled words in vain. The other steps forward.

"You claim to be one of the mythical grounders? Hardly possible. Every child knows that grounders are a legend, a story to scare children. Life isn't possible on the surface."

What shall he answer to these narrow-minded accusations? He is glad when the door opens and a tall woman steps out. Her robe shows intricate patterns of orange and red flowers and her matching hair stands up in crown-like spikes. She examines Darren out of half-closed eyes.

"I hear you claim to be from the ground. An unbelievable story, but an amusing attempt to gain the council's attention. Ground hasn't contacted us in decades. I grant you one minute of my time before I send you back into the workers' den where you belong."

"Milady, I came here to give you this letter."

He hesitates, his hand in his pocket, as the guard lifts his gun. Then the lady nods, and he pulls out the sealed envelope. She motions for one guard to pick it up and breaks the seal. Darren holds his breath while she reads the few lines.

"Earthquake? Funny coincidence. I heard there are rumours in the worker's dens. It's common knowledge the city is built in a faultless area. There are no earthquakes. We all felt the storm a few nights ago. It happens that the suspenders can't fully compensate. A nice effort with the letter though, you almost fooled me. Go back to your fellows and be glad I'm in a forgiving mood today."

"Milady, please, listen. I don't know about the suspenders, but I've seen the damage to the foundation. You must evacuate."

Halfway to the doors, she turns around to Darren again. Her scowl spells trouble.

"Vermin. Guards, bring him to the disciplinarian. He shall learn not to waste his superiors' time and patience."

Darren is tempted to run for it, but two vicious looking guns aimed at his chest convince him he has lost. Perhaps he can explain to that disciplinarian? Though the name itself causes a cold feeling in his gut.

~ ~ ~

Soon, Darren is escorted through the sky city. This time, they follow a populated way and he would enjoy the sights if it weren't for the two armed guards. Robed, spiky-haired people gawk at him and he wishes himself back into Jean's company and the solitude of the unused corridors.
They reach the big plaza the same instant a tremble runs through the floor. One of the guards loses his balance and drops his weapon. Darren is tempted to run, but another gun instantly presses into his ribs. The trembling subsides only to begin again, moments later. Anxious shrieks fill the air. Darren knows that his fear has come true.

"The tower! It's unstable. Evacuate!"

His shout is drowned by the clamour now filling the yard. Flowerpots fall over and parents pull their crying children towards places they deem safe. One of Darren's guards runs, perhaps driven by his announcement. The other holds him at gunpoint until Jean hits him over the head with a potshard. While the guard crumbles to the floor, Darren takes the girl's hand. Together, they run.

In the momentary safety of the access ways, Darren slows down. He presses a hand into his side where he developed a stitch. Jean leans against a wall, exhaustion marking her features.

"We can't stay. Must get down."

"Jean. I'm glad you got that guard. But we're doomed, there is no way we can climb down fast enough. Can't you feel the tilt of the floor? The north tower is a goner, together with the city. When it falls, it will tear the other towers with it."

"We're still alive. But we have little time. Move!"

Driven by her undiminished energy, Darren follows her down the stairs to the room they entered first. The trembling stopped, but the floor lists to the north in a worrying angle.
Instead of climbing through the hatch, Jean bows over one of the bundles now scattered in the room.

"Help me, we need to bring this down to the platform below."

"Why? We must hurry!"

"Yes. If we can build this together, we have a chance. Please!"

Darren has no inkling what she is up to, but her desperate begging does the trick. They manoeuvre the bulky bundle down the ladder. As soon as they leave the access tube, a cold, strong wind tears at Darren's clothes. For a moment, he loses his grip, and the bundle starts to slide off the tilted platform. Jean jumps after it and gets a hold against the railing.

"Help me. We must assemble the tubes first."

The task isn't easy and the wind and the uneven ground hamper their progress. But soon Darren understands what they are building. He shakes his head.

"Dammit, Jean, can this thing carry both of us? And how do you steer it?"

"They are meant to carry two persons in an emergency, and I've read all about them. It was a safety measure for the construction workers building the city. There even was an incident where one team had to evacuate. They survived, and so can we."

What's the worth of pointing out the glider is ancient, the fabric potentially corrupted? Darren helps to tie the last straps, secure the bolts, and slips on the harness. Jean grins and clips her own safety belt to the trapeze.

"I always dreamt of this moment. Ready?"

Darren swallows his fear. Even after two days on the tower, his stomach still rebels against this treatment. With shaking hands, he tries to clip his harness to the ring. Jean's steady hand takes over, double checking if they both are secured. Then she guides them to the border of the platform. Darren closes his eyes while they push off.
To his lasting surprise, they don't fall.

Darren clings to the glider's trapeze, barely able to breathe, adrenaline rushing his system. The pressure of Jean's body pressed against his own and her manic laughter ease him into a more relaxed state. The wind carries their fragile craft, the ancient fabric holds and they glide around the colossal construction of the sky city in a wide arc. The list of the north tower is now obvious. While Darren struggles to draw enough oxygen into his tortured lungs, the mesh of girders shudders and sacks deeper. Jean's shouted words are barely understandable.

"It breaks, the city is doomed."

After a short struggle, she pulls the glider into a slow decline and steers it towards the distant mountain range in the west. The evening sun paints the summits with orange fire, and sudden hope surges through Darren's system like a drug. He laughs.

The engineer was wrong; the sky isn't the limit. But perhaps it is at least a good place to start a new life.