8th February

“Run that smooth or I die,” laughed Tyson Johnson.

He was one hundred feet up a douglas fir. There was plenty of tree still above him, and below was a green ocean of canopy that extended off into all horizons with snow capped mountains poking up off to the east. The pacific northwest was gorgeous. The crew were working for a client who needed a better view for his hilltop mansion, so several slopeside trees were marked for removal. Tyson was an arborist who climbed trees and cut them down.

It was difficult being a tree climber. Tyson had never planned to do it. He saw himself as more of a traditional tradesman, working in the highrise boom of apartment expansion. He would have loved to build custom homes like the one he worked above; he had enough construction experience to justify the career. Instead, he struggled up to the top of massive trees, rappelled back down on ropes and then cut off branches until he sent the top. It didn’t pay enough, was exhaustingly laborious, not to mention extremely dangerous. Chainsaws removed flesh and bone far easier than wood, not that he had ever cut himself with a saw as his meticulous work practice kept everyone going home safe.

He shouldn’t complain. He was good at it and enjoyed being good at it. The sights you got to see up there were exhilarating. His joints hurt and he could see that it was hard on his body, but he made decent money doing it.

He drew it in, appreciating the beautiful vista. Gotta find the good when you can, it's too easy to fixate on the bad.

He was ready to take the top off so it was time to do a LMRA, a last minute risk assessment. His tree climbing spurs were firmly planted, his base of stability was strong. His ropes were free of tangles, so if something went wrong he could theoretically rappel to safety. The rigging pulley was properly attached and positioned. The working line was inside the pulley and rigged to the top on the open face-cut side, it would be controlled on its descent… He was forgetting something… Check fuel. He checked his fuel as he didn't want to be caught with no juice mid-maneuver, it was half full, more than enough.

“I’m ready, you ready to run this smooth?” Tyson asked through the headset in his hardhat. Communication was key and the goal was for Marky Jay, his co-worker on the ground, to gently slow the falling tree top so as to not shake the tree. If Marky Jay caught the top too abruptly it would whip the entire stem and could shake Tyson right off his perch. He told himself he would be fine. His ropes were set properly and the tree was healthy. It was on a slope but Tyson had checked the root plate, which had been robust and showed no signs of failure. It was a shame this tree had to go, but the client wanted their view and Tyson needed the money.

“I’m ready boo boo,” Marky Jay’s voice said, tinny through the ear piece.

“Back cut,” Tyson said and sent his chainsaw biting into the foot wide section of trunk. He pushed the saw deeper, being careful to not cut the top off completely. It began to lean away as he feathered the saw into the cut. Falling in the direction it leaned, towards the house, Tyson would have sent it into the forest if he had been able.

It broke off and began to sail towards the opulent mansion, but the deft hands of Marky Jay knew exactly when and how much tension to apply to draw the top back in and slow it down gradually.

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Tyson felt a slight resonance vibrate the stem he stood upon. Perfect. He let out a whoop of victory and enjoyed the new view. It was a success. ”That was super smooth Marky, thank you very much. All clear,” he said on comms and looked down at the guys down there handling the tree top.

Tyson took a moment to breathe. The view always opened up after the top was gone. You were above everything, alone and distant, looking down at nature. He would cut the rest down piece by piece, and then, lunch. One more small tree after this and then he could go home to play videogames and smoke weed. Tyson was by no means an esports pro but he did enjoy strategy city builders and the odd MMO. Nothing beat a hard day's work then vegging out playing pretend monarch while listening to his stories. But!... He was at work, he needed to focus.

He went to continue working but a distant rumbling stopped him. Then the ground began to shake. What could only be an earthquake began as the weather changed and violent gray clouds rolled in. Tyson tried to rappel but his spurs were lodged deep into the trunk, he pulled as the stem shook but only managed to free one.

Marky Jay screamed through his headset. “TYSON GET THE FUCK OUTTA THAT TREE, ITS LIFTING!”

His perspective began to tilt as the stem began to move.

He lost the smile. He was falling. Falling towards the twenty-three million dollar mansion, that was made predominantly of concrete. He pulled at the rappel device but that one kept him glued to the tree- not that he could have rappelled out of that mess in time. The wind whistled as the hundred foot long stem whipped him down.

He had done everything right. How could he have planned for an earthquake? He had done everything right. Tyson raged for an instant and then felt the cool release of acceptance. Tyson was experienced enough to know that you could do everything right and still fail. He accepted it. He felt guilty that he was leaving his family but he didn’t have children of his own, they would be fine without him. His girlfriend would be fine. It would all be fine.

Everything launched towards him, the perspective forced and growing. Tyson closed his eyes just before impacting the dark roof launching towards him. He broke, pain erupted everywhere. White light flashed but his eyes held close, there was only contraction. He had never experienced pain so immense and it seized whatever his body was. It hurt so bad. He tried to inhale and opened his eyes to see his body pinned and perforated between the house and the tree. He couldn’t move his head but what he could see showed he was leaking from the gashes in his arms and chest. There was only pain above his abdomen. The pain washed over him in slightly decreasing throbs. Every time he felt that pressure wash over him it lessened and he felt more and more tired. He fought it. He had that grit. He could beat this. He could. He… He was heading to the next phase of existence and/or non-existence.

and he felt… Ok.

He saw a flicker in his failing vision, it reminded him of his computer screens. A flash of blue with words but it only lasted an instant.

Then Tyson Johnson died and felt peace. He was free. He was nothing.

The presence of that peace was immediate and eternal, yet immediately gone and ephemeral.

He was again… something. He was some part of himself.

Tyson floated in that darkness for some time. How much was unclear. An overwhelming sense of disbelief short circuited his mind, until it turned to rage. He had been so stupid. So inexperienced. He wasted his short thirty years on failure after failure. He had accomplished nothing but survival. A great wave of regret washed over him. He had wasted his potential and opportunities on the idle pursuits of nihilism and hedonism, and when he was needed, he had little to nothing to offer. Guilt. Tyson had family that still relied on his meager support. His nephews had already lost their mothers, his sisters, to fentanyl. Now they lost their uncle to stupidity and risk complacency. He tried to bellow, to release the rage building. He wanted tears to pour, he needed the catharsis of release.

But he couldn’t, he wasn’t anything. Just perspective, a viewpoint. Dread filled him, was this all there was now? Was he cursed to float in this darkness forever? Tyson had been an atheist most of his life. Observing and enduring as much suffering as he had not inspired a belief in a God. Acknowledging his lack of perfection had made him agnostic, he didn’t know there wasn't a God in the most general definition. Losing his sisters had made him angry, if there was a God, fuck em. Now, after hours of rage and guilt, he questioned his position in the cosmic order. Where was he and what was he here to do?

With that thought a screen appeared on a portion of his viewpoint. It looked like an application window or kinda like a game pop up. So he was hallucinating now but that was ok. It was better than being in darkness for the rest of time. On the window was a text box prompt, it asked one question.

Continue?

Yes / No