Barren.

-

Amazed to still be alive; yet another strike bores the sharp pick into the unforgiving face of ice that has always looked pompously down on the ants of humanity that dared challenge it.

-

Fire ant.

-

-

Invisible to the naked eye from no more than a mere few feet away, there now exist several hundred, vertically-aligned dents in the still-laughing face; created over a period of more than sixteen hours, and counting, they may yet twist the imaginary smirk of arrogance on the face into an expression of discontent and defeat.

No one has ever succeeded in climbing to the top of this vertical wall of solid ice; and yet, it is now being attempted solo.

-

Almost dead. A living ice cube.

-

Obviously, the icy face doesn't plan on surrendering its reputation for being unconquered without a fight; for otherwise, it would have been scaled a hundred times over by now, all 24,394 vertical feet of it.

-

With what remaining strength can be mustered from sheer willpower alone, the blade of the sharp climbing tool hammers another dent into the side of the wall.

Climber gruelingly drags self by frostbitten hands and fingers an additional few feet higher.

-

You're mine.

-

Climber is renowned by many as one of the most accomplished and experienced around; Climber has successfully ascended all of the Seven Summits before, of them, Everest three times, and its smaller twin, K2, twice.

-

Up 23,979 vertical feet, and the ice wall's cruel expression of arrogance begins to turn into one of haste and concern.

-

Imagine, now, that it bellows, in the unimaginably deep and earth-shaking voice of a titan or giant, to Climber in scorn:

-

-

"You will never defeat me."

-

-

Ant.

-

From the yet-to-be-reached summit up above, an avalanche is instigated. Boulder-hard spheres and chunks of ice tumble off the edge, their trajectory being, who else, but Climber.

-

No...!

-

Like a barrage of gunshots and cannonballs being fired from an enemy line, Climber is battered with the forces of cruel nature. Powdery snow stings Climber's already-crystalline face through the oxygen mask and fogs up the goggles almost completely.

A flat-bottomed chunk of snow the size of a fat heifer collides with Climber, smacking off the all-important oxygen mask, now gone forever, but breaks apart into four irregular chunks on impact, due only to its brittle structure from having baked under the hot sun and its large, flat-headed area of mass.

Nonetheless, it completes its mission, knocking Climber's frostbitten body off the side of the icy wall.

-

The face makes an imaginary hideous grin.

-

Climber claws helplessly at the air with both picks, body now in freefall, heart jerking to life in surprise.

Yet, even in this doomed state, Climber stubbornly refuses to give up.

-

As a blind man would use his keen sense of hearing to check underfoot with his cane, Climber forces self to listen to the sound of a human body cutting through the thin atmosphere as it bounces off the relatively smooth, reflective wall of towering ice.

After around two-and-a-half seconds of falling, Climber detects a small outcropping within reach by listening to the sound of the surrounding air reflect and disperse off of it; without hesitation, Climber swings the climbing pick like never before into the outcropping, and securely digs the blade into the ice, breaking a no-doubt fatal fall to the world below.

-

Yet now, despite having been saved from certain death, Climber is hanging by a thread. Frostbitten body dangling slightly in the frigid breeze, Climber is all but at the face's mercy without an oxygen mask.

-

Imagine, now, that the cruel face of ice speaks out again to the pitiful ant.

-

"Now, choke! Choke, and disappear!" it would be saying in its bellowing voice.

-

-

Mercy.

-

-

Climber now has access to very little oxygen; a dangerous coughing fit soon leaves the ribs cracked, the heart pounding explosively fast.

Acclimatization won't be able to resist survival much longer, taking into account Climber's already helplessly low energy level, and the amount of time it would take to safely reach the top or descend.

The fire ant has left its mark, yet the imposing figure that is this monstrous ice wall is again poised to flick it off, foolish was another insect of an unworthy being to challenge its virgin peak.

Either descend and suffocate along the way, jump and hope to make a soft landing, or push for the top and leave the next outcome undecided.

Climber's fatigued, swollen brain vacillates between these three doors of fate, and settles on door number three.

-

The second pick strikes into the ice. Climber proceeds to ascend.

The face would definitely be frustrated at this ant by now, but it had thrown everything it had into the fray already.

-

-

-

24,120

-

-

-

Climber's thoughts spurt out of comprehension as the brain receives less and less oxygen.

A yellow-orange tree floats above, translucent, and the laughing face of an Italian harlequin comedy mask grows from out of its trunk.

-

-

-

24,184

-

-

-

A purple rotary phone rings, entire clouds of dust spurting from the receiving ends, as the sound of a little girl crying is heard.

-

-

-

24,280

-

-

-

Soft at first, it grows louder: the non-existent sound of Climber's own laughter. As the little girl's crying grows louder, Climber's laughter becomes increasingly hysterical.

-

-

-

24,371

-

-

-

All sense of self is supposedly lost. Climber stands erect in midair, with no foothold; a ghost, fat and happy, smiles tragically as it points a transparent finger some one hundred feet down at the frostbitten fire ant.

Climber watches by the ghost's wordless instruction. Climber watches self about to die like all the others.

-

-

-

24,394

-

-

-

Ribs strung together like a Jacob's ladder; Climber conquers the face, body now a suffocating ice cube.

-

"Take that," Climber wheezes with what little strength remains.

-

The ice face is enraged.

-

Climber reaches a shaking, frostbitten hand into a pocket, emerging with a camera.

Three clicks of the summit; Climber then discards the camera on the summit. No hope is left, but Climber doesn't want to end up like Mallory.

-

No, sir.

-

The fat ghost laughs heartily, the girl's sobbing comes to an end, and the toothless grin of the comedy mask embedded in the tree twists into a frown.

-

-

-

-

Climber jumps.