Victory on the Mountain

The darkening room silenced talk to a few whispers, as we turned to watch incipient light begin to fill the screen. A voice spoke:

                  “mLife: Your mobile life made better.”

                  Techno filled the theater as we all watched the models dancing on the screen. One girl, as thin and beautiful as if she had been molded out of chrome, held a shiny, compact cell phone to her glossy lips, smiling broadly as the wise announcer told us about the amazing features on this versatile new phone. I stared, transfixed by these gorgeous, grinning people and their gleaming cell phones, until Emily nudged me.

                  “Can you believe they’re showing commercials before previews now?” she demanded, staring at the screen incredulously.

                  “Yeah, seriously,” said Nicole on my other side. “But I can’t believe my parents haven’t gotten me a cell phone yet. They think it’ll take away from my school work or something but I mean, everyone has them!”

                  “God, I know. My parents insist on remaining in the Stone Age,” I complained. Briefly I envisioned myself with glossy lips and a perfect complexion, slipping my sleek cell phone out of my purse as it rang. With a soft voice I would answer, “Hello? Sure, coffee would be great. Well, let me see if I can fit you in. You know, it’s just so hard to find time for everyone…”

                  “Hey check it out! They have Harry Potter cups!” Emily said, jolting me out of my dreams to look at her Coke cup, which indeed, was covered with the multi-million dollar witches and wizards. The cell phone commercial finished with a last shot of the glorious new model. The image fleeted from the screen while we continued to watch, vaguely interested, as triumphant music swelled from the speakers. In front of us materialized a huge mountain that loomed above with giant sides scarred by black rock and peaks frozen into sharp points with white, icy snow.

                  A shot of a man appeared. Sweating and straining, he laboriously pulled himself up the daunting cliff. Behind him, more men came men in rugged EMS uniforms, pushing every muscle within their bodies to the limit as they climbed. Each boot went down with conviction and each powerful hand reached farther up the mountain; the burning desire to reach the top, to reach the highest peak, to grasp glory in the hands that clawed at the rock, was palpable in the sheer presence of these eminent men.

                  A voice rolled over our ears like thunder over the mountain. “It is pushing yourself to the limit. Training yourself to the maximum. Finding the strength and the courage.”

                  The orchestra immersed the room in valiant music as the men strained, their faces tight with concentration, pushing their muscles just to the point of breaking, reaching their hands even higher up the rocky slope. Their breathing was hard, rushing in and out of their chests, bundled under their thick uniforms. Their veins stood out on their shiny faces, as if they were oxen, straining against a heavy yoke.

                  “It is fighting for something greater,” the omnipotent voice, deep and resounding, spoke, like the voice of a wondrous deity. “It is pride. It is victory.”

                  The men seemed to hear these true words, giving them the strength to continue their fight. The mountain was their wicked enemy, and they were determined to beat it as their boots viciously scraped the ice, as they clawed over the jagged rocks, as they boosted themselves to greater heights. We were no longer in a theater, with red cushioned seats and popcorn. We were scrambling, reaching, striving, desperate to reach the top, desperate to be courageous, desperate to be true, desperate to be strong. One man, with a final, glorious push, grabbed the icy ledge. Hoisting his body up, he stood at last atop the mountain. His chest heaving, he surveyed the icy slopes around him with eyes that seemed to epitomize the strength of the human spirit. Victorious music swelled as the men scrambled up, standing, finally, at the peak. The first man looked into our eyes, into our very souls, from where he stood, cloaked in EMS hiking gear, his rugged, handsome face glistening with sweat as the wind raged around him. Pride filled his eyes as he told us, “I am an army of one.”

                  The deity then told us to visit www.goarmy.com to view all sorts of benefits one would receive by going to war. I turned to say something to Nicole, but her eyes were fixed to the screen as she mechanically sipped Coke from a Harry Potter cup.