The Pattern

by JT Kalnay

  “Okay then. Here’s a deal. We put thirty pounds in our packs and do laps on our training hill for an hour. If I can’t keep up, we’ll reschedule. If you can’t keep up, we eat vegetarian for an entire week to get some lard off your butt.”

  Craig thought about the offer carefully.

  “If you’re not really over it, this workout could really make you sick,” Craig said.

  “I’ll risk it,” Stacey answered. “So is it a deal?”

  “Deal,” Craig answered.

  Chapter

  March 18th, 1994

  Ptarmigan Peak, South of Leadville Colorado

  “I thought we’d be knee deep in snow the entire time,” Craig said.

  “It’s different every year,” Stacey answered. “And it depends on which side of the mountain you're on. Sometimes the snow will be ten feet deep on the west side and there’ll be nothing on the east.”

  Stacey and Craig continued driving south from Leadville, which holds itself out as the “highest town in America” but is really a few feet lower than Alma, which lies just across the Mosquito Range.

  “There’ll be lots of snow in places, and the ground will be scoured clear in others,” she explained.

  “Scoured?” Craig asked.

  “Scoured. Sometimes by wind, sometimes by avalanches.”

  “Avalanches?” Craig asked.

  “Yep. Gotta be careful for those things.”

  “We’re not going anywhere that there’s avalanches are we?” Craig asked.

  “I hope not,” Stacey teased. She drove the last mile south towards the Weston Pass Road. Leaving the pavement she brought her four by four to a gentle stop.

  “We’re there?” Craig asked.

  “Not hardly,” Stacey answered. She got out and started rigging tire chains onto the Jeep.

  “I’m not sure I like the looks of this,” Craig said.

  “Trust me,” Stacey answered.

  “I’m trying,” he said.

  “Yes you are,” Stacey replied.

  Craig watched in awe as his long limbed lover completed yet another task he didn’t even know existed. He’d seen her in so many places doing so many things, but never anywhere like this, never in the mountains. Never anyplace where she seemed so completely and totally confident, so in the moment. Absorbed, absorbing, being. She finished the job and got back in.

  “It’s about ten miles up this so-called road to the trailhead. If the road’s blocked we can snowshoe up. You’ll love it.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too. A couple years ago there was nothing up this road. Now there’s some houses, and a little development. But after the first two miles, it’s the wilderness.”

  “Wilderness? Like lions and tigers and bears?”

  “Wilderness like mountain lions and the occasional black bear. But no tigers, I promise. And no-one for days. Like peaks that maybe ten people hike each year. Look over there, to the west. That’s Mt. Elbert and Mt. Massive. On a summer day a hundred, maybe two hundred people hike each of those. But right here, this little range right here, you can come up here on July 4th and maybe not see anybody else. But you can see all the way south down to the Sangre de Cristos, west through the Collegiate Peaks and the high fourteeners, east to the Front Range, south east to Pike’s Peak, north until forever.” Her voice trailed off and Craig once again found himself looking at this lovely woman and falling in love with her even more.

  #

  “Is this safe?” Craig asked.

  “If you know what you’re doing.”

  “And you do right?”

  “Well. I did move in with you, which is a serious indictment of my judgment, but in the mountains, I know what I’m doing.”

  Craig shook his head and held on as the Jeep inched up the road. After a few miles, the road was simply a low area between the trees. Then, above tree line, it was simply what looked like the path of least resistance.

  “You think snowmobiles might have worked?” Craig asked.

  “You know how to drive one?” Stacey asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Then nope.”

  Craig went back to trying to decipher how Stacey could possibly follow the road. Then the ground slowly cleared and the road appeared as frozen mud and gravel that stretched onward and upward. The tire chains clanked and ground.

  “Just another mile or so and we’ll be at the trailhead,” Stacey said.

  Craig just held on and tried not to go deaf from the tire chains. Finally the ride ended when Stacey pulled into a frozen area that served as a parking lot.

  The air was completely still. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, or a whisper of a breeze. No sounds at all. Clouds of fog surrounded them with each breath. For the longest time they just stood and were.

  #

  “So we’re going up there?” Craig asked. He was pointing to a small hill southwest of the pullout.

  “No silly, first we’re going up there,” Stacey pointed up a very steep slope scoured completely free of snow to a corniced ridge. “And then we’re going to walk north along that ridge to there,” she pointed to a peak that seemed miles above where they were standing. “And then, if we feel okay, we’ll go north for another mile, but we’ll see how it goes.”

  “Stacey. You can’t be serious. That slope is at least forty five degrees. Maybe more.”

  “Actually it’s sixty degrees. Which is why we can climb it and why it doesn’t have any snow on it. It snows on that slope and it just slides right down there.” She turned around and pointed down in the valley.

  “Stacey! That’s sixty degrees. What if you fall?”

  “If I fall, you’re in big trouble. If you fall, you’re still in big trouble. So don’t fall.”

  “Don’t fall? That’s it? Don’t fall? I’m not going up there. That’s crazy.”

  Stacey squinted her eyes, assessing her truculent boyfriend. She weighed her options then made a decision.

  “Craig I’ve got the goods to get us up there. You’ve trained plenty hard, even if you didn’t lose enough weight, but you’re in shape for this. We’ve got some nice old-fashioned hob-nailed boots, just like Mallory and Irvine wore on Everest, and we’ve got nice light ice axes, and you’re simply not going to fall. If you do, just do what I showed you. Fall on your face and dig in that ax. You won’t go far. In fact, why don’t we practice falling down a few times?”

  Stacey started up the slope. After twenty feet she plopped face forward into the slope and didn’t budge. She went up another twenty feet and repeated the drill. Once again she didn’t slide.

  “See silly? It’s not slippery. It’s frozen grass. It’s not a ski slope. And it’s not icey. It’s probably safer to climb it today than in the middle of the summer. No bears right now.” And then she turned her back and started up.

  Craig remained rooted to the trailhead.

  After a minute Stacey turned around and saw him motionless.

  “Don’t you want the rest of your birthday present?” she called down. Her voice echoed off the far side of the canyon.

  “I want to live to see my next birthday,” Craig answered.

  “Then get your ass moving up this hill. If I have to go up here alone I’m going to come back down and kick your ass,” she said. “Besides, I’ve got the car keys. So get moving or freeze. Your choice.”

  Craig put one foot on the slope, then another. And then another. Stacey let him catch up to her, and then they walked abreast upward into the crystal blue sky.

  #

  “Come on Craig. Just a hundred more steps and you’re there.”

  “That’s what you said an hour ago,” he replied.

  “Yeah but this time I’m telling the truth,” Stacey answered.

  Craig continued plodding forward. Head down, miserable.

  #

  “Welcome to my world,” Stacey announced as Craig climbed the last few feet towards her. In front of them the view stretched off for fifty miles eastwa
rd to the Front Range. Behind them the view stretched off between La Plata and Elbert to the Maroon Bells, easily a hundred miles away. And to the south the sky stretched forever. For the first time all day Craig was speechless. Leaning on his ice ax for support he looked and looked and looked.

  #

  Nestled behind a small rock shelter with southern exposure that had been carefully built by generations of previous climbers, Stacey and Craig basked in the sunlight and warmed their toes near the light camp stove Stacey had carried up.

  “Want some more?” Stacey asked.

  Craig finished shoveling down a last spoonful of gruel.

  “That’s the absolute best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life,” Craig said.

  “It’s slop,” Stacey said.

  “Well then I love slop,” Craig answered.

  Stacey regarded him for a minute.

  “You’re starting to get it aren’t you?” she asked.

  Craig looked at her, looked around, licked his plastic spoon and put it down.

  “Oh yeah, you’re starting to get it,” she repeated.

  Craig simply smiled. He knew what she meant and he understood something else about her. She’d mentioned the mountains, tried to talk about them, but like so many climbers, couldn’t articulate it. He’d sensed that a big part of her was up here, up in the clouds. But being here with her he was indeed finally getting it. Getting her. Like he never would have on the flatland.

  “Yes I am,” he answered simply. “Thank you.”

  Stacey simply nodded and stretched her neck and shoulders.

  #

  “So we should probably be heading down,” she said. “I don’t want to get caught out in the dark.”

  “What about the other peak?” Craig asked.

  “It’s too late. We should head down.”

  It was simply a statement, but Craig sensed something else.

  “What about my present?” he asked, trying to prolong the time on the summit ridge.

  Stacey reached into her pack and produced a Frisbee.

  “A Frisbee?” Craig asked.

  “Watch,” Stacey answered.

  She pulled out her knife and scratched a little heart on the disk. Then she scratched their initials inside the heart. Craig watched. While he watched, Stacey stood up, tested the wind, then flung the Frisbee as hard as she could off the ridgeline. It flew straight and true, reaching farther and farther away towards the west. Then, it seemed to stop, and hover, and start to climb back towards them. Slowly it wobbled and drifted and continued back towards them, finally dropping just a few feet down the slope, carried up by the afternoon upslope breeze.

  “Now you try,” Stacey ordered.

  Craig retrieved it and fired it and watched its seemingly magical return. This time Stacey retrieved it. And then she presented it to him.

  “Don’t ever lose this. As long as you have this, you’ll have me. No matter what happens, I’ll always come back to you. You might not think it’s possible, but you’d never have believed what I just showed you if you hadn’t seen it. Sometimes you just have to trust and believe. If you ever feel like I’m gone, just remember this place, and this time, and us together, and the magic. And I’ll be right beside you. I love you.”

  Chapter

  March 21, 1994

  San Francisco, California

  “How was Colorado?”

  “Cold.”

  “Did you make it to the top?”

  “Climbing’s not just about making it to the top,” Craig said. “There’s the purity of the motion and the effort. The singleness of the attempt. The cleansing from the focus. The being in the moment.”

  “So you didn’t make it to the top?”

  “Not even close,” Craig answered.

  Stan Maxwell shuffled his feet as he stood in Craig’s office doorway. “How’s the latest version of the auto pilot software coming?” Stan asked.

  “It looks good,” Craig answered. “Ready to ship.”

  “Good. You’ve been pulling a lot of late nights, working some big hours. I like to see that. I’ll be sure to remember that at bonus time,” Stan said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Keep cranking out these results Craig and there’s no telling what you can do in this company,” Stan said.

  “I’ll remember that,” Craig said.

  “How are your new office windows working?” Stan asked.

  “Great. You really think someone was spying on us?” Craig asked.

  “In the absence of any other explanation, that’s what I figure,” Stan said.

  “What’s the world coming to?” Craig asked.

  “The world isn’t changing Craig. It’s the same as it’s always been. People lie, cheat, steal, and spy. Always have, always will. Corporate espionage is no joke Craig. I’d like to have our security guy give your house the once over if you don’t mind.”

  “Can I think it over?” Craig asked. “Run it by Stacey?”

  “Sure,” Stan said. The overweight president waddled out of Craig’s office and Craig turned his attention back to his workstation.

  “What did the walrus want?” Stacey asked.

  Craig nearly jumped out of his chair. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Craig said.

  “Sorry. But to make you jump like that, you must be feeling guilty about something,” Stacey said. She looked over his shoulder at the code on his screen.

  “Hey. Who are you? My mother?” Craig asked.

  Stacey leaned closer and nipped his ear. “Not hardly,” she breathed huskily into his just nipped ear. She pointed at the window on the screen where the code looked entirely different than the code in the other windows. “Can you tell me, Mr. Walsh, why three code windows on your machine have C code dealing with auto pilot software while a fourth code window has C++ code that couldn’t possibly have anything to do with your job?” Stacey asked, mimicking Stan.

  “Busted,” Craig said.

  “Again,” Stacey answered.

  “I wouldn’t mind you working on this stuff so much if you’d just do it at home instead of work. You are so lucky you haven’t been caught yet. And if he catches you, you know he’s going to fire you.”

  “I don’t think he’d fire me,” Craig answered.

  “Feeling a little indispensable are we?” Stacey asked. She ran her finger behind his ear and down his neck. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder.

  “Just a little I guess,” Craig answered.

  “Well you’re good. But anybody can be replaced,” Stacey said. She leaned over and kissed him. Craig’s eyes tracked down the front of her loose rugby shirt. “Are we going to be home at a good time tonight?” Stacey asked.

  “Absolutely,” Craig answered.

  “Good.”

  Chapter

  March 30, 1994

  San Francisco, California

  An icy cold beer rested in a frosted glass on the glimmering lacquered bar. An enormous bead of beer sweat hung on a bevel on the glass. Craig was staring as it finally slid down onto the bar to join its brethren.

  “Tim, you would not believe this code I got for my birthday,” Craig said. “It’s complex and simple at the same time.”

  “Complexity and simplicity?” Tim asked. “Those are big words. You climbing trip seems to have…. expanded your horizons?”

  “Dude. That’s lame. Anyway, there is an amazing amount of planning and thought that went into this game. Whoever wrote it must have taken an entire year just thinking about his object model before he ever slung one line of code. That’s why the code is so simple. The structure he’s modeling is amazingly complex but he’s got it broken up into a beautiful network of software integrated circuits that I don’t really have to figure out, that I can just use as black boxes.”

  “It sounds like you’re having more fun working through the code than you are playing the game,” Tim said.

  “To tell the truth, I guess I am. I haven’t played a game in a week. And I used to play e
very day,” Craig said. “Anyway, I suck at playing the game. I never survive more than a few minutes by myself, or more than a couple of hours when I get a whole posse together. And I guess I’ve never really come close to beating it. But I can wade through the code for hours and hours. At least until my mind drifts off to the mountains.”

  “Now don’t go losing your job or anything because you’re spending all your time with this code,” Tim said.

  “Now you sound like Stacey,” Craig answered. He rolled his eyes then took another sip from his beer. “She’s been on my case lately about that code.”

  “Sounds like a smart lady,” Tim said. “Any chance she’d get on my case?”

  “Hey. Watch it buddy,” Craig snapped.

  Tim and the barkeep laughed. Craig looked at them then rolled his eyes again, and finally joined in their laughter.

  “So are you interested in looking at some of this code I bought?” Craig asked.

  “Wouldn’t that be a copyright infringement?” Tim asked. “I mean you bought a single copy of the code right? And it came with a license agreement didn’t it? You’re not suggesting that you photocopied it or made an extra copy for any use except personal backup are you?” Tim asked.

  “What if I am? So what? Everybody does it,” Craig said. “Besides, I only want you to look at one part. You’re the hardware guy, not me. There’s a section that does some heavy duty controller chip access that I don’t really understand. Maybe you could look over MY copy of that code and fill me in on what’s going on? At least you could point me towards the right hardware manual or users group or something?” Craig asked.

  “Sure. No problem,” Tim said.

  “Thanks.”

  “How about two more over here?” Craig asked the barkeep.

  “Utica Club and a Bud right?”

  “You know it,” Craig answered.

  “Thanks,” Tim said.

  “No problem. Hey, have you been reading those reports about all the viruses on the Internet lately?” Craig asked.

  “No. I’ve heard about it but I don’t surf the Web much, so I haven’t really paid much attention,” Tim said.

  “It’s pretty bad. And I’m wondering if my machine at home or at work got infected,” Craig said.