At twenty-two, Joseph Marsol already knew climbing was more than a hobby—it was his way of breathing when the world became unbreathable. Standing before the most challenging cliff in Roraima Park, he felt adrenaline surge through his body.
Joseph stretched at the base of a colossal wall of stone. The afternoon sun licked the rock, while a fresh, invigorating wind carried the scent of pine and damp earth from around the park. The adrenaline from the near car crash had already faded, replaced by the anticipation of the climb.
He reached for the chalk bag, white powder coating his hands, while the weight of the final evaluation still echoed in the back of his mind. The conversation with Anton… and that mysterious call… lingered. Unconsciously, he looked down at how far he had already climbed.
Here, in the vastness of nature, the world narrowed down to the next hold, the next breath. His eyes scanned the intricate route, searching for the perfect line across the rock. Each ascent was a way to purge frustration, to turn tension into the methodical control of his muscles. Climbing was his escape, where every problem shrank to the challenge of stone beneath his fingers.
After an hour of climbing, his adicular emitted a faint alarm. Someone was calling. A small button unfolded from the device, projecting a holographic panel that hovered a few centimeters above the rock. On it, the words appeared: Incoming call: Grandpa.
Joseph couldn't help but smile when he saw the name, but the smile quickly dropped, replaced by something closer to guilt… or fear.
"Answer," he told the device.
A robotic female voice replied:"Connecting call."
"Blessing, Grandpa? How are you?"
"God bless you, son! I'm fine, fine. How did the final evaluation go?" his grandfather answered. His voice was cheerful but rough and tired, like two stones scraping together.
In Sarac's culture, asking for a blessing from elders is a way of seeking approval, respect, and goodwill—a deeply rooted custom believed to bring luck and protection.
"It went well, Grandpa, though I don't have the results yet. They should be soon," Joseph said, breathing in deeply, a sigh barely audible. "And you, Grandpa? You sound a little tired."
"I'm sure it'll turn out fine, don't worry. You've got many talents; don't lose heart if this doesn't work out. Life is long, and you'll have thousands of opportunities," his grandfather reassured him, his voice soft and calming.
Joseph inhaled fresh mountain air and looked up, glimpsing the top of the cliff.
"Thank you, Grandpa, but I know I'll make it. This is my purpose. And it's a good project. But hey—you still haven't told me why you're tired," he pressed while slowly continuing the climb.
"Right," his grandfather chuckled. "I've been doing maintenance on my old Jaguar E-Type. And to keep myself from getting rusty, you know. Never know when I might have to repair cars again."
"Grandpa… you know you don't need to work. My brother and I take care of you."
"I know, son, I know. But some things you don't do out of need, you do out of love. It hurts to just let it sit there. Hey—are you climbing right now?"
"Yes."
"And how much further to the top? Be careful with the rock, and remember to check your fingers… because of your condition."
"Don't worry. I'm always careful. I've climbed this cliff before," Joseph said with a slight smile as he looked toward the summit. "And I'm almost there. It's going to be wonderful from up top."
"I can imagine the view from the summit must be spectacular. But… what about from where you are right now? How does it look?"
"I don't look at the view while I climb."
"Why not?" his grandfather asked, curiosity in his tone.
"I feel like I'll enjoy it more when I reach the top—and it helps me avoid distractions," Joseph laughed.
At that moment, his adicular beeped again. The holographic panel appeared once more: Incoming call: ZenthCore.
Joseph frowned. His tone shifted.
"Grandpa… the company's calling me. I have to hang up," Joseph said, a tremor of alarm and hesitation in his voice.
"Okay, okay, son. I'll go start on the celebration dinner."
"Alright… blessing."
"God bless—"
Joseph cut the call before the phrase was finished. He took a few seconds to secure himself on the rock. His hand trembled without him realizing. Looking back toward the summit, he drew in a steady breath and said firmly:
"Answer."
With the communicator still active, Joseph knew this call would decide his success or failure in the dizzying world of technology.
"Hello?"
A cold, formal male voice came through the receiver.
"Good afternoon. Joseph Marsol?"
Before answering, Joseph looked down at the abyss yawning beneath him. He inhaled deeply, trying to empty his mind of everything that had happened that day—the unfinished talk with Anton, the near accident, the gnawing anxiety about the results. He knew this call would define everything. His hearing sharpened, so focused that he caught the faint whisper of wind through pine branches and the distant song of birds. His limbs, pressed against the rock, trembled slightly.
"Yes, this is me."
"I'm calling to inform you of the results of your final evaluation, after the executives thoroughly reviewed the projects of all five candidates."
"Yes?" Joseph blurted, the word escaping like a held breath.
"It has been determined that your project is not suitable for funding. Therefore, you are dismissed from ZenthCore, as you did not pass this stage."
The trembling in his limbs stopped. His muscles tightened—not from the strain of climbing, but from a frozen shock. What? That's not possible, Joseph thought. It makes no sense.
"Please collect your belongings tomorrow morni—"
"But why!" Joseph demanded, his voice rising with every word, his breath quickening. "I don't understand why it was rejected! It's something no other company has ever done!"
"Calm yourself, Mr. Marsol," the voice replied, tinged with annoyance.
"Sorry… I just want an answer," Joseph said, forcing himself to steady his voice.
The man sighed audibly.
"Alright. One of the main factors in rejecting your project was its focus. Right now, what companies are looking for is technology that revolutionizes or enhances cybernetic implants or exoskeletons."
"But it was innovative," Joseph murmured, the words echoing inside his chest.
"Yes, that was considered. But among the five candidates, your project fell behind the others."
As he listened, Joseph rested his forehead against the stone, closing his eyes. The cold of the rock against his skin was the only thing he could feel clearly.
"I understand," he breathed. "Sorry for raising my voice."
"No problem. As I said, pick up your things from the lab tomorrow morning."
"Right."
"Have a good afternoon."
The voice on the other end faded, leaving Joseph hanging in the void. The weight of the words—project not suitable, dismissed—hit harder than the fear of the near accident.
He understood ZenthCore's logic, but the reality felt like a punch to the gut.
A sudden dizziness overwhelmed him, his vision warping. His head buzzed, cold sweat pearled across his forehead. Looking up, the summit of the cliff suddenly seemed impossibly far, as if the mountain had stretched in an instant. Unreachable. He looked down, searching for the solid base that once felt secure, but now the abyss was endless, a black maw calling to him. His vision swayed, threatening to blur entirely. His body felt strangely weak, as if gravity itself had doubled.
The gentle breeze that once soothed him now felt like a storm.
He knew this was dangerous. A professional climber like him couldn't afford a mental and physical collapse halfway up a wall. Staying there, vulnerable and dizzy, was deadly. He had to descend. It was the safe, rational choice. He had to reach the ground—his only way out.
But in a moment of stubbornness or confusion, his body tried to go up. The summit wasn't that far; he felt he could reach it quickly.
With titanic effort, Joseph tried to focus. His fingers, once precise as a surgeon's, searched for the next hold. It was an easy section, a move he had done hundreds of times. He stretched his arm, hand reaching for a small fissure that should have supported him, but the pressure in his mind—the echo of unfit, of failure—ate at him. He felt useless, as if his skill had drained away along with his hopes.
His hand found the rock, but something went wrong. Maybe his grip was too weak. Maybe his foot slipped on a grain of sand. Or maybe his mind simply failed to send the right command. His fingertips slid, a rasping, terrifying sound magnified in the silence of his panic. A strangled cry escaped his throat.
Joseph fell.
As the air rushed past him, his eyes, wide with disbelief, searched for the summit of the cliff—that goal that now seemed to mock him. He saw it, so far away.
The impact was brutal. A sharp crack echoed through the mountain. His right leg twisted at an unnatural angle. His left, too. As his body bounced, his elbow slammed into the stone.
Then, darkness.
When he opened his eyes, a blinding light pierced his vision.
"What… happened?" he whispered, his voice rough and faint.
Slowly, he tried to focus. As the glare faded, the situation became clear. He was on the ground, at the base of the cliff. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there—only the feeling of his fingers slipping.
He tried to sit up, but couldn't. Raising his left hand, he saw the damage: thumb split, other fingers stripped of skin, blood flowing steadily.
"Damn… right, I can't feel pain," he muttered with irritation, letting the arm drop.
He tried moving his other arm. Nothing. Only his elbow, with something dangling below: his forearm.
He understood, with growing clarity, how grave his condition was.
Suddenly, he felt warmth spreading across his back. Like a bucket of cold water, lucidity snapped back.
"Call emergency services. Fall from the cliff…" he managed, his voice fading.
A female voice answered from the adicular:"Call was placed one minute ago. Emergency unit is already nearby."
Joseph struggled to breathe. He forced one last request:
"Thanks… also tell my grandpa… and Anton…"
Fighting to stay conscious, he lifted his gaze one last time toward the cliff, tracing from the base to the summit. Sirens wailed in the distance.
Joseph closed his eyes completely.