Begin Again

"Come, come on an adventure. Won't you see what you are made of? There is another mountain to climb. . . "

I'd been watching those words crawl across the ceiling of the train car for at least the past three weeks. The accompanying picture was what had drawn me in, though. There was a path, and in the foreground, an athletic, handsome man, holding his arm out, as though beckoning. I couldn't place his nationality, his open shirt was too generic and features too exotic. Behind him was a path that started wide but narrowed as it climbed a majestic mountain. My eyes had wandered from the olive blue-green light of the train car and rested on the brilliant blue sky and the warm colors of the advertisement. It was an oasis in a world gone sour.

It was our twentieth week on lock down. People still needed groceries and doctors and other things in the city, and now they sat in the train car, too close for safety. They wore masks and their eyes were dead. I turned up the volume on my earbuds, wishing that I could drown out the malaise, which seemed to hang over the train car like a fog. My job was a drain. I'd been going through the motions, tag-teaming projects for which I'd never get credit. Working on projects that didn't matter and being berated for non-mistakes that even I had recognized as misdirected anger and frustration. None of it mattered.

I exited the train car, but before I did, on a whim, I jotted down the number. Sisyphus Technologies. A virtual reality tech company. Maybe I would do it. I needed something to break the tiresome habit of breathing the recycled air of the train car, of waiting in the bread line for the spongy ration of white bread and peanut butter. I was a human sardine, dead, slimy, packed into this rolling can with others just like me.

When I got home, I spread the white sponge with peanut butter. The peanut butter had been diluted with copious amounts of oil, but it made it go down easier. My body felt flabby over the past months. Life in the city made it too dangerous to exercise outside. The infection rate was growing daily. I pulled the scrap of paper on which I'd jotted the information out. Then I pulled out my phone. I would just get some information, I told myself. I wasn't committing to anything. Then I dialed.

* * * *

That had been six weeks ago. Now I was standing before a mountain. Sisyphus Technologies had not just been a virtual reality company. They claimed they'd change my life, they'd add meaning, adventure, zeal. The price tag was steep, much more than I had planned on spending. In addition, there had been a battery of tests I'd had to take. The sales rep had charmed me though. He was reminiscent of the man in the advertisement, smiling, with brilliant white teeth and a sparkle in his eye. But there was something about him that was also unsettling. I found that he peppered his words with ambiguous phrases. For example, when I asked if people enjoyed the experience, he told me that the experience was "one in a million." When I asked if I would be satisfied he said thoughtfully, "will you be satisfied? If not, not to worry, you will have another chance."

"That's not a money back guarantee," I argued.

He chuckled at that. "Money isn't everything."

I'd not anticipated how many waivers I'd have to sign. There were waivers dealing with unforeseen circumstances, but they were vague about what types. There were waivers dealing with discomfort, injury, illness, war, famine, and even death. This had scared me somewhat, and caused me to wait another two whole weeks to complete my application. But then I'd had a terrible day. My two coworkers fought about who was in a worse-off position, and I suppose it was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, because when I left work that day, I was determined to do anything that would prevent me from becoming like them. When my sister-in-law called, complaining about how her energy was dragging, it had just been too much, and in a fit of determination, I'd signed the remaining documents and turned them in, and then somehow gained an appointment for within the hour.

It was a surprise to me that I'd have to be present in the office to participate, and that I'd have to ingest a bottle of the most foul chemical I'd ever had the misfortune to taste. I was then put in a chamber with strobe lighting that only made me confused. I almost forgotten who I was. A strange sensation overtook me. I wasn't sure I liked it. Then I awoke to a blinding sun that slowly faded into daylight.

A backpack strapped to my back was filled only with a bottle labeled H20, and a cache of tools, including a large folding knife with serrated edges. Looking around, the grass was thick and green, and shiny yellow buttercups dotted the hillside. There was an obvious path, but it was overhung by an arch of trees, and I could not see what lay beyond. On my feet were thick, heavy boots and woolen socks, seemingly overkill for a hike through the what appeared to be the sunny Swiss Alps. I walked along, somewhat disappointed that I'd spent such a large sum of money on what appeared to be a regular vacation.

As I walked, I noticed that the sky had begun to grow somewhat foreboding. The silver bottoms of leaves began to curl, and the animals that I'd seen began to scurry away, birds flying away into trees, and squirrels and chipmunks suddenly gone, as though they'd disappeared. The sky took on a greenish hue. I looked at my bare arms, which were now covered in goosebumps. I felt restless, the wind suddenly playing with my hair, sending it into my eyes and mouth. No sooner had I raked it back with my fingers then another gust sent strands back into my face.

Then it came.

The sky had turned from greenish yellow to black and angry drops pounded the ground around me. I noticed that I was no longer on a path, but walking across a field of rounded rocks, covered in lichen that was becoming slippery and dangerous to walk on. I didn't have time to lament the rain, however, for within moments, it had turned to hail. Large stones of it pelted the rocks, and I began to feel cold and worried. I realized that I wasn't wearing my watch. I had no idea how much time had passed. The walking had been progressively more difficult, and I realized that I'd eaten nothing and that it must be at least midday. My chunky boots slipped on the rocks and I saw an angry red gash on my knee, which was now dripping blood. I opened the backpack and found a bandanna, wound it around my leg tightly. It was painful, but the cold air took away the sting of the gash and numbed the pain.

I called out, but the wind was keening and it swallowed my voice. I couldn't see ahead of me, and I had no idea whether I was on the path, or going uphill or down. Panic overtook me. Could this be stopped? I tried to scream, but heard no sound. There was nothing to do but place one foot in front of other, and this single task took all of my focus. I could feel burning in my thighs, the result of the effort that it was taking to lift my feet over what were now sharp rocks. For what seemed like hours, I lifted my legs, my eyes glazed with tears, but my desperation had dulled, replaced by determination and single-minded focus. This storm could not last forever.

Memories came swirling though my mind. I'd remembered being lost as a child, being sick with fevers, being fearful of the high dive. They'd all been fleeting, I told myself. This will pass, as well.

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the precipitation stopped. I could see a sign ahead of me. I could also see my boot prints in the remains of accumulated hail. I'd been walking in circles for who knows how long. But now, the sun had come out, and the hail stones in my hair began to melt. I lifted my face to the sun and said a quick prayer of gratitude. I could see. I knew where I was going. I began to cry. It was sheer exhaustion overlaying relief. I didn't need to despair any more. Surely I could find my way.

When I saw a green patch of grass under a large tree, I decided to stop and take stock of my surroundings.

I beheld it then, a miracle. There was an apple tree just a few yards away, and on one of the branches, an apple. I pulled it towards me and reached for my knife, cutting the branch from the tree. It smelled sweet, like apple blossoms and sugar. The skin was cold and crisp from the recent weather. I took a bite. It tasted like spring and happiness and simplicity. I enjoyed the sensation of crunching, with sweet, tart juices running down my chin. When I looked up, there was a farmer, an old man, who was staring at me.

I was so relieved to see a human companion, I could hardly contain myself. He waved me onward, to a tiny little house, where he offered me milk and bread and a square of cheese. I'd never tasted anything so delicious. I'd never felt so fulfilled. When I had finished eating, he again waved me toward him. He took me to a large veranda that overlooked the mountain I had climbed. Below me I could see a patchwork of fields and rocks, forests and flowers. There were tiny trucks and cars, making their way around the earth, doing the things that their drivers did. At first, surveying the world this way felt triumphant. I had done it. I had conquered the mountain. I could still feel the effort in my legs from lifting my feet, and in my arms from climbing, balancing and holding on to branches, to rocks, to whatever I could find. But then, this feeling was replaced by a new feeling that I couldn't place.

I felt disconcerted, like something was missing. I knew the feeling. It was hunger. Not hunger of the stomach, but hunger of the soul. Having made my way up the mountain, I had finished my task. Now I felt the same yearning that I'd felt when sitting in the subway train. I wanted something more. Surely, there must be something more.

Then, my world disappeared in a shower of strobe lights. I felt exhilarated, eager. The Sisyphus rep was leading me out of the little room where he'd installed me just a few hours before.

"Well?" he said.

For a moment, I had nothing to say. I could feel tears welling in my eyes. The experience had been too beautiful. I wanted more. Surely there must be more. I opened my mouth to speak, but he smiled the enigmatic smile, the one that continued to scare me a little.

"I think I know what you want," he said.

He pushed a piece of paper my way. It showed a jungle, glistening green with fresh rain, and a man, holding a leopard on a leash. There were words above the advertisement:

"Come, come on an adventure. Won't you see what you are made of? There is another mountain to climb. . . "