Halfway Over the Gorge

The ropeway crossed the gorge in three minutes. The drop below it was very long. Quincy ran the lower station. He knew every sound the cabin made. He liked the hum of the wheels. He liked the soft bump at each tower.

On the day of the village festival, someone banged on his window. It was Reza, and he had a bag on his back.

"Quincy! Open the gate. I have a promise to keep."

"You look like a man who ran here," Quincy said.

"I did run here." Reza took a breath. "The flag will not rise. The rope on the top pole is stuck. Nobody can fix it from the ground. I must go up with the new flag and fix it myself."

Reza was the man who planned the festival. Last year, the old flag tore in two. A group of children stood around him and asked a small question. "Will we have a new one?" Reza said yes. Then he said more. "I promise it will fly over the gorge at noon. Next year. I promise."

The children made the new flag with their own hands. The cloth was blue. Each child pressed a hand in white paint on it. There were many small hands, in rows, like birds. It was the best flag the village ever owned.

Now it was twenty to twelve. The whole village waited in the square below the gorge. The band was ready. The mayor was ready. The flag was in a bag on Reza's back.

"Come," said Quincy. "I will take you up myself."

They stepped into the cabin. It was small and clean and smelled of oil. Quincy closed the door and pressed the green button. The cabin shook, and then it moved out over the edge.

Reza did not like heights. He told almost nobody. He sat down on the bench and looked at his shoes.

"It is a short ride," Quincy said. "You can look at your shoes the whole way."

"I am not afraid," said Reza.

"Of course not."

Halfway over the gorge, the cabin stopped.

First came a click. Then a long quiet. The hum of the wheels died. The cabin swung a little and hung still.

Quincy pushed the green button. Nothing happened. He pushed it again. He took the radio from the wall.

"Station, this is Quincy. I am stopped over the gorge. What happened?"

The radio made a noise, and then a voice came back. "The power went out for a moment. The brake locked. We must restart it by hand. Maybe ten minutes. Maybe twenty."

Quincy put the radio down. He did not say the time, but Reza looked at his watch. It was a quarter to twelve.

"Twenty minutes is too long," Reza said.

"I know. The cabin will not fall. It is only waiting."

"The flag cannot be late. I promised them." Reza stood up too fast. The cabin rocked. He sat down again and held the bench with both hands. "I promised the children. They worked on that cloth for three weeks."

Quincy said nothing. He looked out of the window. Far below, the village square looked as small as a plate. Tiny people stood in rows. A few of them pointed up at the cabin.

"They can see us," Quincy said.

"Please do not say that."

"Look."

Reza did not want to look. But he lifted his head, just a little. He saw the square. He saw the tiny crowd, and the white-and-blue line of the band. He saw the tall pole on the top station. It was empty. Then he saw something else. He saw the cable above them, thick and grey.

He looked up at the roof. There was a round hatch. Above the hatch, a strong metal bar ran across the ceiling.

"Quincy," he said slowly. "Where do you keep the long pole?"

"The pole? For the emergency?" Quincy pointed to a long metal pole on the wall. "There. Why?"

"A flag needs two things," Reza said. "It needs a pole. And it needs to go up."

Quincy looked at the pole. He looked at the hatch. Then he started to laugh.

"You are a very strange man," he said.

"Help me."

Quincy took the pole from the wall. Reza opened his bag. The flag came out in his hands. It was soft and heavy. He did not let himself look down. He looked only at the cloth.

They tied one corner to the end of the pole. Reza's fingers shook, and Quincy helped with the knots. They tied the second corner. Then they stood on the bench and opened the hatch. Cold air came in.

"Push it up," said Quincy.

Reza pushed. The pole slid through the hatch. The flag followed it into the sky. It hung for a moment, then opened. The blue cloth snapped once, loud and clear. Far below, a sound came up from the square. It was a small, thin sound. It was a cheer.

"Hold it straight," Quincy said.

"I have it."

"Your knees shake."

"My knees are not important."

Quincy took a rope from the wall. He tied the pole to the bar. He pulled each knot hard. The pole stood up through the hatch, tall and straight. The flag lifted above the cabin and above the gorge. It was a real flag now. The whole village could see it.

At two minutes to twelve, the radio spoke again.

"Quincy, we are ready. I start the motor now."

"Wait," Quincy said. He looked at Reza. "Are you ready?"

Reza stood very straight. He did not look at his shoes. He looked at the flag over his head. For the first time that day, he smiled.

"Yes."

Quincy pressed the green button, and the cabin began to climb.