The Great Ski-Lift

- I know everything. I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw you in the dining room. I was interested in you because it seemed you needed somebody.

The two kissed for a long time, and fell asleep still hugging.

Oskar woke up with a jolt. The girl was sleeping. Clara looked very beautiful now, he was starting to grow fond of her. He liked that room full of family memories, he liked talking to her. He was no longer alone, an essential link had been reformed, the one of Protection.

They wandered in the woods together, the sun occasionally peeking out between clouds, its rays making the landscape glitter, before disappearing again and turning the trees into silhouettes.

Oskar and Clara spent a few days together. They talked into the late hours and slept hugging tight, surrounded by the collected memories. One day they went to the cable car in silent agreement. The morning was vividly bright. He watched the steel cables run through the woods; just about spotting tiny cabins re-emerging behind a second ridge, and then higher and higher, the cables rising over a mountain pass and fading into the sky. After that mountain pass, the cable car must continue to climb until reaching an invisible height. As far as he could see though, no traces of snow were visible, except for some white spots near the vegetation.

He felt no repulsion this time round, but instead looked in fascination at the endless chain of pylons running along the mountain slopes. From that viewpoint, the existence of any plateaus seemed unlikely...The ski station now looked like a magic ladder to storm Heaven. Oskar imagined that maybe the project's creator had wanted to open a sort of trapdoor to another World.

In that moment he thought about reaching the top on his own before remembering he had met Clara in the village.

He embraced her, feeling the tension drop away:

- Clara, I love you.

- Will you stay a while longer? - asked the girl smiling.

- You know, after meeting you, this place is starting to grow on me.

- Of course, Valle Chiara is a great place! - she exclaimed.

That evening he was surprised by the sudden sunset while chopping wood behind the inn. The water in the nearby pond turned a reddish hue. Looking up, he saw the house walls, the windows, the flowerpots and roof tiles being enveloped in a dim light. The eastern sky seemed to be on fire and the setting sun made the winter landscape was almost overpowering. He listened to the valley's sounds in turn: a dog barking, a child crying, hammering on a wooden board, a moving cart. Suddenly, he felt like being somewhere else entirely. In some ways he had stopped. The world continued turning. Was what he saw and felt its effects? Yes, he now remembered what he wrote that day:

The World Exists Because It Works.

These were not poetic verses; it was an aphorism that started a perhaps revolutionary scientific work that was now lost to him. No memories seemingly remained

During the stay in the hotel he had not seen much of his hosts. Oskar usually ate alone with Clara after the owner and his wife had gone to sleep.

He was certain that they talked to each other and were firm supporters of his prolonged idyll. His appearance was fairly presentable, a city professional with a decent job. All the correct life boxes ticked.

That evening like always, Oskar noticed the owners had already left the kitchen. The girl was laying the table with a focused and grave expression.

- You said you loved me the other day.

Oskar drew closer and clasping both her hands murmured:

-I am happy with you.

- What does that mean? Do you think you could live with me?

- In these few days I thought about staying in the valley forever, because I feel at peace here. I saw the sunset...in the City there are no sunsets.

The girl laid the cutlery silently, and they both sat down to eat.

- I think I could be happy with you – repeated Oskar.

When they finished eating, he poured a drink. He remained withdrawn though, not talking. Clara had been listening carefully but with a different expression than usual.

- Would you be willing to stay in Valle Chiara? - she asked and shaking her head, added, - I'm not asking you to leave the City and your job.

There was a strong determination in her eyes. Clara wanted to be with him but seemed reluctant about staying in the valley.

- I thought you liked living here.

- Yes, in a way. When alone, I prefer being back here where I was born. It's different if married though...doesn't seem right to live here in isolation.

He smiled briefly, amused that Clara was thinking of marriage:

- You said that when you first saw me I looked like a beaten man... Well, I arrived here totally drained because I was not living well in the City.

- I would keep you company though!

Oskar found the woman's effortless sincerity unsettling.

The two remained silent a few minutes. That desolate sensation felt on that first day in the empty forecourt returned: the kitchen turned into a barren landscape.

- What's so strange about my idea? You're a fully-grown man who is afraid of being alone. I could keep you company. You looked so lost when I first saw you in the dining room. I felt like helping you, so I introduced you to my family, even used my grandparents to make you comfortable. Can't you see I've helped create a welcoming environment for you? One full of familiar objects to help you not feel so alone. I've been good to you, playing an important role; only one women with their innate empathy can really do.

There was no faulting her logic but Oskar still felt a key element was missing. Her smile turned lopsided: - It's good to be honest in relationships. There is nothing magical about living together; I have outlined the situation in a practical manner.

Clara was no doubt right, but her candid speech embedded in the conditioning of Tradition was something he was trying to break free from.

- What you said about solitude is true and you know perfectly where I'm coming from. It's not just about being alone though. It's something worse: I live in isolation.

- What do you do in the City? If that's not too indiscreet...

Oskar paused before replying. He had never been very coherent in that regard. With hesitant voice, he tried to explain it in a sentence: My work serves no meaning.

He got up for the beer mug on the mantelpiece, and returned to his seat adding: - Sometimes I think my work is not even used. Pieces of paper filed away only to be burnt a few months later.

Oskar noticed the woman looked tired, - When I first arrived, I felt I'd made a mistake. When I saw you at the hotel though, I imagined you could save me.

- Save you from what?

- It's not easy to explain. Maybe I thought you had the solution at your fingertips ...

- Strange, I thought the same thing too! - gasped Clara.

The Connection

Oskar stood facing the cable car's forecourt, a mountain bag and skis in hand. A light cold wind from the north had swept away the clouds overnight.

The manager had happily met his request, after handing over the multi-year pass for the Great Ski Lift. He asked for a few hours to make some final checks on the plant. Oskar would use a guide to reach the plateau bordering the slopes. The guide was a local lad with a stocky build, also shouldering a sleeping bag and doffing a woollen cap.

- Morning, my name is Mario and the manager said I was to climb with you until the plateau.

- Great, when can we leave?

- The operator has phoned the office to confirm everything is ready. We can already get in the cabin.

From the booth's tiny window, a man gestured with his hand. The sound of whirring motors could be heard. The plant looked like a carousel that stretched upwards out of sight. The two climbed into an oval cabin and sat facing each other, on two plastic seats. The driver slammed the door shut and the cabin started to climb.

- If I understood correctly, this plant reaches the plateaus – said Oskar to break the silence.

- Yes sir.

- How far is the Great Ski-lift?

- We need to cross the plateau at the pass and then descend. On the other side runs one of the peripheral lines of the Great Ski Lift. We need to leave at dawn tomorrow to reach the Circuit's border roughly after midday.

Oskar looked up at the last visible pylon, which was glistening with a particular light. As the cabin gradually ascended, the valley's landscape was revealed in its full imposing glory. From above, the village had blurred into a brown smudge of houses with thin tendrils of smoke rising.

At altitude, the smoke seemed to form an evanescent halo hanging over the whole valley. A vast coniferous forest started slowly emerging until it filled the entire field of vision. The village was reduced to a small irregular rectangle. The panorama was breath-taking. His friend must have been awestruck heading downhill after leaving the Great Ski Lift.

The cabin reached the last visible pylon, then the curtain of mist drew back, revealing a pristine world made of vivid colours. Oskar had entered a high resolution, incredibly bright universe. Higher the perennial ice formed a white band.

Below, Valle Chiara had condensed into a reddish smudge in a sea of winter. On the other side, as the cablecar continued to rise, the great Sierra massifs rose slowly over the horizon. Underneath the cabin raged an increasingly uniform snowstorm, the conifers gradually grew scarcer until all vegetation disappeared completely, melting into a pitch white canvas.

Oskar finally saw the plateau. High mountain summer pastures that rose gently to the two pointed peaks, between them another mast, perhaps the last, glinted faintly in the distance. He pointed to the spot on the horizon: - Is that the arrival?

- Not yet. We are crossing the first plateau, which ends under those peaks. Behind that pylon, begins the second. At the end of that is our arrival base – answered the guide.

He watched the landscape unfold behind the fast approaching pass. The first plateau rolled beneath them with a jarring shudder. The cabin passed over a snow covered bowl shape. The sky was striking, with a blue so vivid it seemed unreal. He perceived the yawning distance between him and the City, the places and sites of his penance, the malicious faces of his acquaintances. Memories of Clara were decisively blotted out by an immense green splurge, which was being smudged by the rising horizon.

The world belonging to the innkeeper's daughter was only one of imaginary figurines: simple caricatures in a juvenile landscape, with a grazing cow, the pig, chickens and little plumes of smoke rising from chimneys on houses with every balcony proudly displaying flowers... That was all.

The cable car ride ended after what seemed an eternity. The light breeze had turned crisp, biting at him. A man, supposedly the operator, came forward to meet the pair.

- Morning, Engineer Zerbi. They phoned and told me you would be coming with a guide.

- Good morning – said Oskar looking around – It seems you get plenty of peace and quiet up here!

The man shook his head: - Mustn't grumble in terms of peace and quiet. I'd rather be down valley at home with my family. During winter the nights are pretty long here.

Oskar thought that in the end most people tend to say the same things. Regurgitating the same phrases, with words bound by common sense, a kind of self-survival mechanism for the species.

The arrival station was a reinforced concrete block; the backdrop a series of peaks. Towards the West, a few hundred yards from the building, another mountain pass that must presumably lead to the last plateau; the wide valley mentioned by the guide. Tomorrow, they could walk to the outskirts of the Great Ski-Lift.

The operator rang a bell, and the engine noise in the station stopped. The silence was deafening.

- I'll take you to the rooms - said the operator, pointing to a wooden staircase leading to a long corridor.

- This place is not really a chalet, but the manager furnished a couple of rooms for passers-by.

An electric stove heated the room assigned to Oskar. The room was practically an icebox. The low ceiling almost rested on the iron bunk bed in a room held two chairs and a candle-lit table.

A thin sheet of ice that deformed the scenery covered the square window. The transparent glass looked out on a blue ocean in a state of chaos.

- Make yourself comfortable, there's not much to do here. Downstairs is the dining room and a fireplace. We will eat soon, let's say around seven.

Oskar thought the man must have slowly turned bitter over time because of his solitary life. Perhaps the man would have been even unhappier at the village, with his faithful wife. Valle Chiara was not exactly brimming with happy people, most walked silently with a haunted look. He was reminded of Van Gogh's potato eaters.

The room was freezing so he dumped his bags and went straight outside, where the sun was still shining. Towards north, behind the reinforced concrete monstrosity, mountaintops silhouetted the landscape. The Great Ski-lift lands were still hidden from view. To the south, a white semicircle cut in two by the cable car's steel lines that stretched back to the valley he had left behind.

Standing in Valle Chiara you would never imagine there was such an incredible spectacle up above. He had entered another world.

At this point, even if two moons were to emerge at sunset it would leave him nonplussed.

These were the Sierra Mountains, bordering the Grand Circuit. A place still pristine. Oskar was unsure of the geography, having never been here before. He had stayed away from mountains for many years. The toll they exacted required a more determined mind-set. As a boy he went skiing often, but those were other times before any great Attachments, when the roads to follow were clearly mapped. Back then his consciousness seemed sensitive only to infrared. Even as a child, the imposing banks of snow had induced thoughts of loss, and a recurring question tinged in mystery: - What can be beyond those peaks?

Once again, he was awestruck at the grandeur of the immense and borderless plateau. He felt as if mysterious builders could have assembled them merely the previous night.

The sun was low, just above the snow cover; ice sheets glittered with reflected light.

The landscape penetrated deep into Oskar's brain, blasting clean all the melancholy accumulated in Valle Chiara's muddy lanes, where an Archetype had enchanted him.

The operator's canteen held some finely made furniture and looked cosy with a large roaring fireplace in the corner. The table laid, the improvised host announced meat stew was to be served:

- Game – he gloated with satisfaction.

- Many deer around these parts, the forests are full of animals. An upside of no one else living here on the Sierra – said the man.

- You mean there isn't a living soul around? – Oskar sounded sceptical.

- The place is deserted! Farming was abandoned and the mountains turned wild again. Am I right, Mario? –

The driver nodded imperceptibly, a sign for Mario to expand: - Some years ago, tourists came hiking in the summer, but it was a fleeting trend, the mountain asks too much. They would drive jeeps up to where they could, but the government banned them for impacting on the Great Ski-Lift.

- Traffic is non-existent then but building the station will make tourists come! - he stated blandly, already knowing the answer.

The operator replied through a mouthful of chewed cheese:

- As far as I know about this plant, this is a trial period. Up to now, ten people at most. Some to climb, including the Mayor, and the rest heading down. Some from the Great Ski Lift, usually lost off-piste – the man jammed another lump of cheese in his mouth.

– clandestinos started turning up almost immediately though, boarding the cabins cabs as soon as they crossed the pass.

- How do you mean? - Oskar was curious.

- Well, they cling to the cabins, throw themselves from pylons, and before arriving in the valley jump into trees in the spots where the cable almost scrapes the floor.

- What did you do?

-We stopped the plants that were running all day to draw in tourists, at least that's what the manager wanted. But with the Mongol hordes prowling around the Sierra, any communication channel must be watched carefully.

-These poor people are desperate! - Oscar shook his head.

-They're fucking everywhere. I even hear them at night: they run around the station, immune even to blizzards. Sometimes they turn up dead, frozen underneath the pylons.

The man clearly bored turned to the food, which looked sublime, nothing had been spared.

- I can't complain about the food or drink. I'm happier back in the village though, with my family.

- I don't understand why you accepted this job? - asked Oskar.

- I needed to work. However, I didn't think life here on the Sierra would be this hard.

The guide remained silent, gazing at the fire smoking a pipe.

- So you don't like being alone?

- No, not at all. When the nights are quiet it's okay, but it's a different story when there's a real storm raging. It seems that all the souls in purgatory have lined up to bang on your door.

The man continued talking about his problems for a good hour; his real torment was the night-time, and dying alone. The best place for him, thought Oskar was in the village bar, playing cards with friends.

The mechanic generated in him an almost physical revulsion. Something about his raging impotence, a very old blind rage. Yet, this negative state of mood had to be overcome with -compassion. - Not possible in that moment because the operator was pulsing with primal emotions: a wall Oskar was trying to break down. He remained silent, listening to the man's complaints, a rhetorical venting that wasn't seeking answers. Meanwhile, the guide had fallen asleep in front of the fire.

Oskar spent a restless night, fitfully trying to sleep on the cold military camping bed. At the first light of dawn, there was knocking at the door.

- Mr Zerbi, rise and shine, time to get dressed and start walking – urged the man with a gentle but authoritative tone.

He got up with some difficulty and quickly dressed, excited in the realization that this was no mere camping trip. Something more essential was afoot but this was still to be gleaned from the plant's creator conception. The two drank black coffee while the sunrise danced in from the window. The operator remarked the temperature had fallen several degrees below zero during the night. He led them to the heavy front door, which he had to shoulder barge open due to frost.

Mario had donned a fur hat and Oskar noticed for the first time that his hair was in a ponytail. He looked different from the earlier handyman sent by the manager on the previous morning. His body had unfurled, a wild animal finally free and back in the wild.

The guide set a brisk place: - Engineer, am I going too fast?

Seeing as the conversation had been initiated, Oskar asked: - What do you reckon about him?

- Who? Franz, the guy in charge? He moans a lot, like so many in town. The man is always complaining. I was there when he practically grovelled in front of the Mayor for this job. Even saying the further they sent him the better as his wife stank and nagged him too much.

- Could have guessed – quipped Oskar. Yet he still felt that being compassionate was his best chance for spiritual equilibrium. A subtle form of selfishness? More than likely. The protective patina commonly used as sunscreen by saints and professional do-gooders.

When the pass was under them wind grew violent. They passed over a ridge of ice wedged between massive boulders of whitish rock. Once over the pass, they dropped in altitude and the wind returned to a gentle breeze. The last plateau was before them, the Great Ski Lift slopes should soon be in view.

- Put on your sunglasses, the sun is really bright up here. We follow the trail up to that dark rock, then ski across the plateau.

The rock casually pointed out loomed menacingly distant, but they were both walking fast. Oskar felt tired at first but over time he fell into a steady rhythm, the body entering a state of deep wellbeing that could lead him anywhere. The vacation was maybe starting to improve.

The world could now seem strange, finally unmoored from the archetypal tarot deck that held him spellbound. A very different sensation from the one experienced in the past years of City life, routine neatly bound by circumstances.

All those restrictions slipped away at high altitude. The only company a mountain guide, somewhere in the indefinite Sierra borders, no reference points or even a return planned....

When the massif was upon them, Mario suddenly stopped and indicated for Oskar to squat down. Binoculars emerged from the guide's sack and were swiftly pointed towards a movement in the snow.

- We need to be patient. The man’s words a low murmur, as a precision rifle was drawn from a canvas case. A large green cartridge entered the barrel and arming the rifle, Mario said: - For every clandestino I catch, the federals give me a reward.

He aimed using the sight and fired a shot near a soft white mound, about two hundred yards away. The snow turned fluorescent green and three figures stood up with hands in the air. Suddenly one of them started running, and Mario calmly lined up another shot. The man staggered forward with slow lumbering strides before collapsing into the snow.

- Is he dead? - asked Oskar.

- Forget about it, just sleeping.

They moved towards the remaining two sitting on the snow with hands still outstretched. The pair seemed totally at ease, their expression placid; in fact, they were smiling. Mario handcuffed them to each other and moved the group near the unconscious man. Their faces were round, almost oval with dancing eyes that peered at them, seemingly amused.

Mario pulled a chocolate bar out of the rucksack and presented it to the two still awake, who half bowed in thanks. Then, guessing what the guide would do, they pulled up the sleeve on one arm.

Mario nodded, extracted an automatic syringe and injected both men.

- A tranquillizer to stop them running away – he explained.

He inflated a red balloon attached to a slim wire and let it slowly rise into the air.

Let's go! The satellite can now locate their signal and a helicopter will come to pick them up before long.

- It has to arrive before night otherwise those poor sods will freeze overnight!

- Takes a couple of hours, it's usually pretty quick. Even if it doesn't arrive, they should be fine with their rucksacks. What do you think happens here in the mountains? When night falls, people check-in to a hotel? – a sarcastic sneer twisted the man’s face.

The pair strapped skis to their feet and continued crossing the last plateau.

- They must have a constitution like an ox, coupled with a nervous system made of steel – remarked Oskar, his conscience in turmoil.

- I think they eat just once a day, like dogs...

The man was resilient like the clandestinos or illegales, since childhood probably.

They reached the plateau at noon, Mario's estimate had been exact. Throughout the entire journey an enthusiastic Oskar never asked for rest but tiredness was now creeping up on him.

- Mr Zerbi, I suggest we eat something. After that I'll show you the Circuit's ski run.

- Where is it?

The guide pointed out the slope at the basin’s edge: the ground rose like the lip on a bowl. The two took shelter in a cranny and Mario prepared hot coffee using an alcohol stove. The heat was blistering, and despite the dark lenses Oskar's eyes were raw red. They munched on the supplies Mario had brought. Two strips of fur also emerged from the rucksack, which Mario tied around his pants using leather laces.