The Tower of Mount Everest
Chapter 2

Two years later, standing near the Tibetan Rongbuk monastery only six miles from the base camp of Mount Everest, Jeff Lattimer stares up in child-like wonder at the incredibly majestic mountain. Even though it is partially obscured by a smaller mountain Changtse, the photographs he had seen failed to do it justice. It is an awesome, forbidding, humbling, and intimidating thing to behold; especially on this day with the top completely enveloped in thick clouds. It seems as if God himself is residing there. Even where Lattimer now stands at over 16,000 feet above sea level, the air is thin enough to make him feel a little nauseous, a little giddy, and more than a little vulnerable. He tries to imagine what it must be like up in the death zone above 26,000 feet, where the air is so thin and cold a man can quickly die without proper conditioning, equipment and oxygen. He begins to wonder if perhaps he had been a little too sure of himself, a little too cocky? After all, hasn’t this scene been played out before, time and time again: The Tower of Babel, the Titanic, the Hindenburg, the list of man’s tragic monuments to his own hubris and vanity seem like an endless parade in Lattimer’s mind, and up here, still more pointed and exaggerated. He feels a strange chill flow down his back, causing him to shudder.

“Must be the air up here,” he thinks. “It does strange things to your mind.” Suddenly, a wave of nausea comes over him. He falls to his hands and knees and begins throwing up violently. When it is finally over, he tries to get back up but can’t seem to lift himself off the ground. His knees are rubber and his head is swimming. The episode seems to have drained away all of his energy. Finally, eyes shut; he sits up on his knees, swaying his head back and forth in agony. “What in the hell is the matter with me? Have I lost my mind?” He put his hands on his knees, viewing the mountain once again, this time in abject fear and near panic. He hears footsteps behind him and a voice with a distinctly Mexican accent.

“Hey, Dr. Lattimer, this is no time to get religious, man! We’re behind schedule and the sun will be down in less than an hour!” The man stops just behind Lattimer and senses something is wrong. “Hey Señor, what’s the matter, you sick or somethin? Oh man, you threw up! Do we need to get you to the doctor?”

The man standing behind Lattimer is Jose, a Mexican who changed his name from Martinez to Martin after immigrating to the United States 25 years ago with his father’s family. Like Sam Snyder, Jose is from the school of hard knocks. He is a small man with brown leathery skin and a thick moustache. He has spent his entire youth working U.S. vegetable fields in California. Through hard work and a bit of luck he has managed to escape the fields and enter the construction business building houses in the San Bernardino Valley. From there he learned about a local engineering firm involved with space projects that was actively recruiting construction workers. The pay was good he was told, and the opportunities boundless.

Jose gets down on one knee, gently resting a hand on Lattimer’s shoulder. “Hey man, you all right?” he says softly. “Here, let me help you up, ok?” Lattimer nods, and the two men get up together as Lattimer steadies himself against the smaller man. “What’s the matter, boss? You don’t like the weather up here or somethin? I bet it’s the food. Lunch was the greasiest excuse for a meal I ever had I can tell you that for a fact!”

“No, it’s not the food,” Lattimer mutters, “it’s just that...” his voice trails off as he looks up at the mountain again.

Jose turns his head and looks as well. “Oh... I see what it is! The mountain! The mother of all mountains! Hey, I don’t blame you, boss. It’s enough to make anybody sick with fear.”

“Did I say I was afraid?” Lattimer snaps defensively. He straightens himself up, brushing his hair back with his hands. “Come on. Like you said Jose, we’ve got work to do!”

Seven days later a Learjet lands around noon at Lhasa airport in Tibet, 250 miles northeast of the Himalayas. Even here, the altitude is close to 12,000 feet and precautions must be taken to prevent altitude sickness, including the donning of portable oxygen masks as dictated by personal needs. From there the V.I.P. passengers travel by pressurized helicopters to the main camp at the base of Mount Everest where the altitude increases to over 16,700 feet. A large, temporary, transparent, inflatable building has been set up to receive the visitors who must pass through an airlock to enter it. It is heated to room temperature, humidified, and pressurized to simulate a more tolerable altitude of 5,000 feet.

In the early stages of construction, this structure was a source of awe and fascination for the myriad numbers of Everest climbers who flock to this site, which is the first Everest base camp to be used for acclimatization prior to tackling the northern face of the mountain. However, as its function became clearer to the denizens at large, awe and fascination began to give way to disdain, resentment, and outright hostility. After all, “real” climbers spend years scraping up enough money just to have the opportunity to take on one of the world’s highest peaks. They conditioned their bodies through hours of grueling exercises, adjusting to the altitudes through months of on-site training. Sometimes, even this was not enough to get to the top. “Real” climbers traversed glaciers and crossed deep crevasses in the shifting ice on shaky foot ladders. They negotiated razor-thin ridges at altitudes where the air is so thin, dry, and cold, nothing can survive for long. Sometimes they had oxygen bottles, sometimes not. At times, they climbed with only an ice pick, a rope, and a tenuous foothold standing between them and certain death. “Real” climbers were willing to risk both life and limb for the unlikely possibility they may be able to sit for 15 to 20 minutes on top of the summit. They had to come down as quickly as possible to avoid in-coming storms, delirium, emaciation, frostbite, amputation, and death. Over 200 of them never made it down alive. For most of the dead, Mount Everest became their final resting place. It was just too dangerous to remove their bodies.

How dare these uninitiated, delicate, overindulged, urban dandies set foot on such sacred ground!

“Hey boss! The helicopters the helicopters!” Jose exclaims in a mocking voice, imitating Tattoo from the T.V. show, Fantasy Island. The helicopters slowly lower themselves one by one onto the flat rocky field, kicking up dust as Jose and Lattimer (both fully acclimatized at that altitude) hunker down, holding onto their hats as they wait for the passengers to disembark. As usual, Sam Snyder is first off. He bounds out of the chopper and heads straight for Lattimer and Jose, removing his oxygen mask to ask a question:

“Hey, my old friend, how are you and Jose doing today!?” He reaches out and shakes both men’s hands with gusto and warm enthusiasm, patting them heartily on the back. “So tell me, Jeff,” Snyder says, more subdued, “how are things going? Any problems?” Surprised by how quickly he becomes short of breath, Snyder dons his mask again. Jeff hesitates to answer. Hearing the sounds of the other passengers, Snyder quickly turns to address them. “Gentlemen!” Realizing his mask is back on he removes it and begins speaking. “Gentlemen!” Snyder is getting breathless and woozy. He quickly dons his mask again and says no more. Lattimer motions for everyone to begin filing into the airlock in groups of five so they can engage in more intelligible conversation. Snyder is the first person to enter the compound, followed by the three financiers he had hobnobbed with aboard Terra I. Jim Johnson trails behind them like a man wishing he could be anywhere but here. He still considers this whole project to be a grandiose, half-baked scheme, a publicity stunt that goes against his better judgment, but Snyder had forced him into the deal by threatening a hostile takeover of his over-leveraged assets.

The financier closest to Johnson turns to ask a question. “So, Jim, what do you think of the project so far?”

Johnson, ever the diplomat, rattles off the required politically correct response. “Oh, everything is going exactly as planned without a hitch. We should be able to finish setting up the primary moorings before winter sets in.”

“Good, good, excellent!” The financier responds back. When the man turns away, Johnson shakes his head in silent disgust. The next cohort to enter the structure is an entourage of assistants. Finally, the news reporters enter followed by Lattimer and Jose.

“Gentlemen!” Snyder barks, “Your attention please! I want you to meet the brains of this outfit! This is him, right here! Dr. Jeffrey Lattimer! The man who is going to put the first city ever to be built on top of Mount Everest!” The group forms a semicircle around Lattimer and Jose, gazing at them with a chaotic mixture of awe, admiration, and disbelief. The reporters squat down and fire off a series of snapshots, recording the moment for posterity.

“Tell me, Dr. Lattimer, just exactly how do you intend to do it?” The question comes from one of the three financiers, Richard Treinwood, who hails from London, England. He continues in his distinctly British accent... “After all, it was all Sir Edmund Hillary could do just to climb the bloody thing!” He reflects for a moment, resting his chin on his thumb and forefinger as he squints to study Lattimer, awaiting his response.

Lattimer was ready for him. Maintaining the confidence and composure he had used in his initial meeting with Jim Johnson, he spoke again in slow measured tones... camera clicks and flashes of light interrupted the brief silence. The sound of a video recorder whirs in the background.

“On the surface, I admit this project looks daunting... even impossible. However, remember the old “saw.” How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. That’s exactly how we are going to proceed here, one step or rather one phase at a time. Phase I is the building of a city six miles north of the Rongbuk monastery and 12 to 13 miles from the general area on which we now stand, which is old Everest base camp. However, this is not going to be merely a camp for overpaid construction workers and engineers impatient to get home. We are going to build a permanent city, kind of like a miniature Disney World of sorts. It will include restaurants and plenty of entertainment for adults and children alike.

“Why?” Treinwood ask perplexed.

“So it will become a permanent source of revenue for the project,” says Lattimer. “A pressurized passenger train, the first of its kind, will be put into place which will transport not only passengers but all manner of freight required for the continuation of the project, including the maintenance of the city. This rail system will run 250 miles from Llhasa all the way to this city and will continue 12 miles or so up to the old Everest base camp. The PR gained by the existence of this city will help bring additional investors on board. You see, Mr. Treinwood, first build strong roots, then build the tree.”

With his chin still resting on his thumb and forefinger, Treinwood nods his head approvingly as he begins to assimilate the concept Lattimer is laying out before him. All eyes are fixed on Lattimer as he continues with his proposal.

“As the city nears completion and revenues are exceeding expenditures, we will initiate Phase II, i.e. before apathy for the project can set in. This will light a new fire under the press and the world at large, generating still more PR and investments. In Phase II we will begin to build the world’s first pressurized, heated tram system. This phase will be broken down into several sub phases. In the first sub phase, the passenger train will connect via airlocks to this tram at Everest base camp. The tram towers will be moored into the lower sides of the smaller mountain called Changtse that partially obstructs the view of Mount Everest from the north. The tram will cover a distance of about 3.9 miles, passing along the lower western slopes of Changtse until Everest is in full view. At that point, it will cut southeast across the Rongbuk glacier, traversing 3,440 feet until it reaches the lower northern face of Mount Everest near the bottom of the Japanese Couloir at an altitude of 20,570 feet! At this point, 100 feet above the Rongbuk glacier, a permanent city will be established. This city will actually be built into the mountain to protect it from the elements. It will include tunnels leading to observatories for different views from the edge of the mountain and right down to the glacier itself. As with everything else at these altitudes, the city will need to be heated, humidified, and pressurized to simulate an altitude of no higher than 5,000 feet. Imagine for a moment, a city at the foot of Mount Everest, higher than Mount McKinley, the tallest peak in North America!” Lattimer hesitates to let the moment sink in. “The next sub phase will be initiated only when this second city begins to generate positive revenues.”

Treinwood becomes more animated. “This is amazing, indeed amazing! What you are doing is ensuring, in fact, reassuring investors that their money will not be squandered.”

“Yes indeed,” Lattimer responds. “The project may falter at some point, but only because the revenue generating potential has reached an equilibrium. Even if the final city is never built, the steps leading to it become revenue generators in and of themselves.”

“Incredible concept!” Treinwood exclaims, the others nod and murmur among themselves in agreement. Jim Johnson, arms folded, manages a thin, patronizing smile.

Another investor pipes in, “With any luck at all we should be able to generate world wide interest, including governmental financial assistance from many different countries.”

Lattimer grins, “Now you’re beginning to get the picture.” He continues, “The next sub phase will involve building the second leg of the tram which will continue straight up the side of the mountain to an altitude of 25,000 feet. A third city will be built into the mountain at this location. Obviously, as the height increases, so do the difficulties in construction, maintenance, and logistics. It would be tempting at this point to make this city smaller and less ambitious in scope than the one preceding it. It would be tempting, but it would be financially fatal to do so.” There is a collective gasp.

“Why so?” Treinwood responds, puzzled.

Lattimer continues, “Because this is what people would expect. We must give them more than they expect. We must make this whole affair so unbelievable, so unimaginable, that the very idea of it cannot escape anyone entertaining an active thought. If anything, this city should be more lavish and extravagant than the one preceding it. Otherwise, why would anyone come up to see it?” Lattimer sweeps the horizon with his hand. “Imagine for a moment, a city in the sky. Almost like something out of Star Wars. A city so high up on a mountain you can barely see the lights. A city impervious to weather, even to avalanches! Perhaps some ski trails may even be in order! Real estate and homes are actually for sale there.”

“Whoa, slow down Dr. Lattimer,” one of the investor says, cutting him off. “I admit this sounds incredible, but snow trails, homes? This is Mount Everest you’re talking about, not the Smokey Mountains,” everyone chuckles in response.

Lattimer interjects, “Just giving you food for thought, Mr. Thomas. Please indulge me just a bit further.” He continues, “The final leg of the tram will cover most of the remaining height of the mountain. A city similar in size and scope to the one at the site we are standing on right now must be put in place as close to the top of the mountain as possible. This will take years, decades to accomplish!”

Thomas interjects again, “We may be all dead and gone before it’s all finished!”

“So what?” Lattimer responds. “As long as you’re making money, what difference does it make? It just means your children and grandchildren will be the next generation of stockholders, that’s all. Permanence is what we’re striving for here. Permanence.”

With the initial groundbreaking ceremonies over, the reporters and other guests not affiliated with the project are escorted back to the helicopters to return to Lhasa. Because of the constraints and lack of privacy of the humble surroundings, all non-essential personnel have been required to leave the premises as well. Other than Lattimer and Jose, the only people who remain behind are the financiers. Everything discussed at this point will be maintained in the strictest confidence.

The general mood and conversation are light hearted as people begin to take their seats around the conference table in the middle of the inflatable building. The group enjoys a sumptuous dinner with all the trimmings, then, everyone sits back to allow digestion to take its course.

“Would anybody like more coffee or wine?” asks Jose, who is serving as an impromptu waiter for the occasion.

As Jose hovers around the table waiting on the guests, Treinwood speaks up, “Ok, Dr. Lattimer, we’ve indulged you up to this point. For the sake of argument, let’s say that some way, somehow you are able to actually pull off what you have just stated. So we have a huge city sitting on top of Mount Everest. That would indeed be extraordinary, but a tower of the magnitude you are proposing, how on earth can you possibly do it?”

Lattimer gazes at Treinwood thoughtfully, then, scans the remaining group of people. “It would be impossible, Mr. Treinwood... except for one very significant development.”

“And what might that be, Dr. Lattimer?” returns Treinwood.

“There has been an extensive amount of research on composite materials for use in structures subjected to stress like airplane wings and bridges. At the same time, tremendous strides have been achieved in the development of exotic metallic alloys. In our laboratory we have been able to integrate these two areas, resulting in the development of an alloy composite matrix that has been stress-tested and optimized through simulations by supercomputers. The end result is a hybrid material I have dubbed ‘alloy composite.’ Alloy composite is stronger, lighter, and more durable than any other material known on earth. It is virtually inert to weather and sunlight. In fact, as it is exposed to the weather, it develops a microscopically thin protective coating that renders it completely impervious to any further interactions with the elements. As the material is subjected to stress such as wind and temperature, the bolts actually tighten up because of this coating effect. Once erected, this tower will never require painting or adjustments. It is self-painting, and self adjusting!”

“Good Lord, Man!” Treinwood interjects, “What would such a thing cost to build!”

“That’s the best part yet,” Lattimer exclaims. “You see alloy composite is actually made from cheap raw materials, readily available right here in this area. Everything will be built from it, including the tram and the cities themselves! Even the factory that will make the alloy composite will be made out of it, as well as the rail system used for transportation.”

“This material can withstand the full weight of a locomotive!?” an investor asks incredulously.

“This material can withstand anything!” Lattimer says, defiantly.