Chapter 1
06:41
The tower appeared through the windshield long before the road reached it.
At first, he thought it was a cloud.
Then the shape sharpened between the trees: a thin black line rising impossibly high above the forest, so high that his eyes couldn’t find where it ended.
He slowed the car.
“No.”
He said it quietly, almost politely, as though whoever had put the tower there might hear him and reconsider.
He kept driving.
The service road was little more than cracked asphalt, winding through the trees until it opened into a clearing. The tower stood in the center of it, surrounded by concrete blocks, maintenance sheds and four enormous guy-wire anchors. The morning mist still clung to the forest floor.
He parked.
For several seconds he didn’t move.
The engine ticked beneath the hood.
His hands remained on the steering wheel.
He looked through the windshield.
The tower went up.
And up.
And up.
The upper half vanished into a pale layer of cloud.
He swallowed.
“One thousand two hundred and forty meters.”
He had known the height before coming here. He had looked at the technical documents. He had measured it against buildings, mountains, anything that might make the number easier to understand.
Nothing had helped.
Standing underneath it, the number finally became a physical thing.
It pressed down on him.
He switched off the engine.
The silence that followed felt enormous.
“Okay.”
He opened the door.
Cold air came into the car.
He stepped out.
The tower creaked somewhere above him.
He looked up instinctively.
That was a mistake.
His stomach dropped.
He immediately looked at the ground.
“Right.”
He closed the car door.
“Don’t do that.”
His voice disappeared into the clearing.
He walked to the trunk and opened it.
Everything was packed exactly where he’d left it. Food in one crate. Water in another. Tent and sleeping bag strapped to the side. First-aid kit. Tools. Spare batteries. Emergency radio. Clothing. Climbing equipment.
He had spent three days preparing.
Three days reading manuals, watching training footage and making lists.
Three days telling himself that preparation was sensible.
Not fear.
Sensible.
He lifted the climbing harness from the trunk and looked at it.
It was a simple piece of equipment.
Webbing.
Buckles.
Attachment points.
Something designed to keep a person alive.
He hated it.
He put it back.
Instead, he took the tent.
The first hour passed quickly.
That was what he told himself, anyway.
He cleared a patch of ground, unfolded the tent and pushed the poles through the sleeves. One corner refused to cooperate. He fought with it for several minutes before finally getting it into place.
“There.”
He stepped back.
The tent leaned slightly to one side.
He stared at it.
“Architecturally intentional.”
He drove the last peg into the ground.
For a moment he felt almost normal.
There was something comforting about having a small, familiar space beneath the enormous structure. A place to sleep. A place to put his things. A place that belonged to him.
He sat in the folding chair beside it and opened a packet of biscuits.
The first one was gone before he realized he’d eaten it.
He looked at the packet.
“Breakfast.”
Another biscuit.
“Very healthy.”
He ate it.
The radio on the equipment crate crackled.
He stopped chewing.
Static filled the clearing for three seconds, then disappeared.
He looked at the radio.
Nothing.
He waited.
Nothing.
“Don’t start.”
He reached over and switched it off.
The forest returned.
He checked his watch.
06:41.
The transmission window opened at 19:00.
That gave him more than twelve hours.
Plenty of time.
Probably.
He looked at the tower again.
His stomach tightened.
He had never climbed anything like it.
That was the part he kept avoiding whenever he thought about this.
He knew how the equipment worked. He had studied the access system. He knew the tower had been designed with maintenance climbs in mind. He knew there were platforms at various levels and emergency shelters farther up.
Knowing those things on paper was one thing.
Actually climbing 1,240 meters into the sky was another.
He took another biscuit.
He didn’t eat it.
Instead, he watched a bird land on one of the guy wires.
It balanced there effortlessly.
“Show-off.”
The bird flew away.
He smiled despite himself.
Then the smile faded.
He looked toward the tower’s base.
A metal access gate stood beneath the first section of lattice.
Beyond it was the ladder.
He could see perhaps thirty meters before the structure disappeared into itself.
His mouth went dry.
He stood.
The moment had arrived.
He put on his boots.
Then his jacket.
Then the harness.
The buckles clicked into place.
He pulled each strap tight.
Once.
Twice.
He checked the connections.
Then checked them again.
His hands were already sweating.
He picked up the helmet.
For a moment he simply held it.
Then he put it on.
The tower creaked.
He looked up.
Nothing but steel and sky.
He lowered his eyes.
“One step.”
He walked toward the gate.
His boots sounded strangely loud on the concrete.
At the ladder, he stopped.
The first rung was just above his waist.
He put one hand on it.
Cold metal.
He could feel his pulse in his palm.
He looked upward.
The tower disappeared into the clouds.
He looked down.
The ground was still there.
Safe.
Close.
He could walk away right now.
Nobody would know.
He could put the equipment back in the car, drive home and tell himself he’d tried.
He knew that voice.
He had listened to it his entire life.
It always sounded reasonable.
That was how it got you.
He closed his eyes.
For a moment, faces passed through his mind.
His mother.
His father.
Friends whose numbers were still in his phone even though he hadn’t called them in years.
A girl in a red coat laughing behind a coffee counter.
Another face.
Another.
All the small moments that had once seemed like they would happen eventually.
There would always be another chance.
That had been the lie.
He opened his eyes.
His hand was still on the rung.
“Okay.”
He took a breath.
Then he lifted his foot.
The first rung took his weight.
Nothing happened.
The tower held.
He climbed another.
Then another.
The ground was still close.
The morning was still quiet.
And above him, the tower kept going.
