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The Thousandth Floor
“The quest to build the world’s largest freestanding structure is as old as the tower of Babel,”
the liftman explained in his cultured, sing-song voice, “which is perhaps why we have an in-house translator on the thousandth floor.”
The fat ladies giggled, but they were tourists and would laugh at just about anything the liftman said.
He stood rigid and implacable in his bright red uniform and for the duration of the 10 000-foot journey,
at least, his was the voice of God, except funnier.
“For nearly four millennia, the Great Pyramid in Egypt held the record at 471 feet until it was finally
surpassed by the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Since then, there have been some notable achievements including
the Ostankino Tower in Russia, and the CN Tower in Canada, which you can just barely make out over the horizon.”
He pointed out the transparent titanium-alloy window and all eyes looked north. After a few doubtful murmurs of
“There it is!” and “Where? I don’t see it!” the liftman laughed hoarsely to let the squinting tourists know that
once again they had fallen prey to his playful antics.
“I’m sorry, my friends. I’m afraid you can’t see the CN Tower from here. It was dismantled in the late 21st
century and the Canadian border is a good 200 miles away at any rate. I doubt very much that anyone has eyes
that good, even with laser surgery.” There were a few groans of embarrassment and then the liftman continued his narration.
“But you can see below where some of our more local contenders once stood—the shiny-chrome Chrysler Building, and the
world famous Empire State Building, which was the first man-made structure to exceed one hundred floors, King Kong not
withstanding.” There were more laughs, and then the liftman’s gray-bearded face turned immediately somber.
“I’m sure you remember the tragic events that destroyed the World Trade Centers back on September 11, 2001. Since then,
many other cities have joined in the race to build the world’s tallest building—Dubai, Taipei, Tokyo, Seoul, Mumbai and
Brasilia. It wasn’t until the economic renaissance of the 22nd century that New York was finally able to retain its long-standing
title with the Odyssey 1001, the only building ever to exceed one thousand floors.”
“Is it safe?” one of the ladies asked with equal parts scandal and pleasure. She was a round woman, with round, puffy
cheeks, deep dimples and a string of twenty priceless, nano-cultured pearls around her milky-white neck—the perfect
specimen of her class. Just one of those pearls, if sold, could have fed an African village for a year.
“Oh, yes,” the liftman replied. “Built to withstand a category five hurricane. God herself could not destroy this building,
except perhaps with a category six hurricane.”
The ladies gasped at this jocund bit of blasphemy, but they were not truly concerned. Nothing could harm them,
not God, not war, not poverty, not anything, not on the thousandth floor of the world’s tallest building or anywhere
else. They were the elite, the cream of the crop, the upper crust of the richest country in the world. It didn’t matter
that they had raped the rest of the planet to get there. They were the best, and they deserved it.
As the transparent titanium-alloy elevator crested the aging New York skyline and the setting sun broke into a brilliant,
rosy kaleidoscope over continental U.S.A., the round lady noticed something peculiar out the window.
“What’s that?” she asked with characteristic
brashness, her stubby, pudgy, perfectly manicured finger pointing towards the horizon.
“Why, my dear, that is the sun,” the liftman responded facetiously. He knew that the woman was not pointing
at the sun, but they were rapidly approaching the last stop on their ascent into the stratosphere and this
was his last chance to conjure laughter from his wealthy passengers, and by extension a formidable tip.
“Not that,” she said, perhaps a bit peevishly, “That!”
The object was larger now, and growing wings. An airplane? No. The wings were smaller, more like shark fins. Whatever
it was, it was headed straight for them at great speed, a dark flying thing leapfrogging over New York’s lesser skyscrapers
like a playful swallow. How odd it looked and yet how graceful! The inquisitive tourists turned to their all-knowing,
red-clad liftman for an answer.
The liftman must have ridden to the thousandth floor in this titanium-alloy elevator a thousand times. He knew
the New York skyline like the back of his hand. There was nothing he didn’t know about it, nothing he hadn’t seen—until
today. He stood rigid, rubbing his gray beard thoughtfully, and for once he was speechless.
David Wright is a high school English teacher living on Canada’s majestic west coast. His short
stories have appeared in over a dozen publications including Neo-Opsis Issue 12, MindFlights
Issue 1 and Cover of Darkness May 2009.
Email: David Wright
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