Unfinished garbage 👏
Alone on the mountain, with their emergency air supply running out, Ernie
laughed. A long, hearty laugh, one that almost seemed to dispel the
hopelessness of the situation.
"Gee, Bert," he giggled, "even after all these years, the view really takes
your breath away, eh!"
Bert opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it - he only had so
much oxygen left, why waste any? And in truth, the landscape that lay
before them was truly a beautiful sight.
Before their eyes were vast snow-covered peaks, boldly challenging the
clouds, almost as if they wished to surpass them. And there was, in the
distance, a great verdant plain, scattered with trees, and crystal-like water,
glimmering on the horizon like a distant memory that is all but forgotten.
Bert had never forgotten.
No, he had never forgotten. Though it was half a lifetime ago, he still
remembered everything - his mother, her valiant but fruitless battle with
cancer. His wife, her soft smile, her gentle lips, that he could almost feel
against his forehead. His infant son, the gentle smile on his face... though
he should be nearly 30 by now, if his reckoning was right.
He even remembered the taste of oatmeal, a luxury that the freeze-dried
rations up in the research center could never match.
"Yes Ernie," he nally agreed, "the view is wonderful."
A warning light ashed on the display panel near the door. "Ah," Ernie said,
"I'll get the cylinder."
Neither of the friends dared to mention, but both knew, that this little tube of
oxygen was their last.
After a few seconds, a gentle whirring sound indicated that the cylinder was
working. Thirty minutes worth of air.
"Well," said Ernie, ever the optimist, "there's still hope for rescue! Let's send
out a another distress signal!"
Over the past few years, they'd sent out thousands, and none had even
been met with an answer - they'd tried several times, many years ago, to
climb down the mountain's slopes, but each time were driven back by the
harsh conditions.
Bert had long ago resigned himself to the cruel inevitability of their fate, but
it touched him in an almost inexplicable way, to see his lifelong friend dial
the distress number, a glimmer of hope still alive in his eye.
The shrill ringing began, and it ended. There was, as always, no reply.
"Ah," said Ernie, "that's a shame."
For a few seconds, there was silence. Bert's thoughts washed slowly
through his mind, with the lightning-quick leisure of a man who has resigned
himself to death.
He thought of