Blade Runner Read Online Free Page A

hang on to something while sliding
down the cable
A rope ladder that we could pull up and hide in the house
Last, but certainly not least, a sign enforcing our rule: NO GIRLS ALLOWED
    It took us two days to collect the necessary provisions (and
entailed incursions into builders' yards to obtain the requisite
wooden boards). With our very sophisticated architectural
plans in hand, fruit of our ten-year-old minds, we began to
build the Eighth Wonder of the World. Easy-peasy! The
building was straightforward, until we hit our first hitch.
    The first floor, a platform of about 2 metres by 1.5 metres,
was completed quickly. We were very proud of ourselves. It
was approximately 4 metres from the ground and, although
we congratulated one another on its perfection, it was
obviously not parallel to the ground. Neither Craig nor I
would ever have admitted this though, not even on pain of
death. In our opinion, with our first floor finished our
building had to keep rising. We started by nailing the planks
onto the thickest part of the branch and then built a staircase
that led up to the second floor. This floor was designed to be
both taller and wider than the first. We were continually
traipsing up and down the stairs, collecting more nails,
planks and boards and had quite a few close calls, nearly
breaking our necks and losing our goods, either by slipping
on the stairs or on our lopsided platform. It was a risky
business.
    By the evening of the third day, we had completed our
second floor and, thanks to the experience garnered while
building the first one, it was a masterpiece. It was approximately
2.5 metres by 3 metres and was at least 6 metres from
the ground (with less than a 5-degree slant). We were very
pleased with our building skills and generous with superlatives
in our compliments to one another. Craig and I came to
the realisation that as adults we would become engineers and
go on to build the biggest skyscrapers and bridges that the
world had yet to see.
    On the morning of the fourth day we concluded that while
we grappled with the design of our lift system (basically a
rudimentary cable car), the third floor should be delayed. We
climbed up onto the second floor and then, with the help of
pliers, managed to pull one end of the 50-metre cable right
around the tree trunk, as high and as tight as we possibly
could, so that it could not slip and cause us to plummet to
the ground. Then we let the remainder of the cable fall to the
ground. Our plan had been to attach the cable to another tree
within 40 metres of our tree house, but I had failed to notice
that there weren't any. We had incorrectly measured the
distance between our tree house and the chosen arrival and
departure point for a cable car by 2 metres. We had not
considered that the cable would have to be perfectly taut and
that even with the best will in the world and our very strong
arms there was simply no way to make it happen. At first we
were deflated, but then I hit upon an ingenious solution. All
we needed to do was drive my father's old Land Rover over
to the foot of the tree, securely attach our steel cable to the
tow bar, drive for 40 or so metres until the cable was
perfectly taut and then park. As we had decided to build our
tree house in a jacaranda that was at the top of a slope, we
were convinced that, with the downhill to help us, pulling off
our plan would be child's play. We imagined ourselves to be
rather like the ancient Egyptians in the process of creating the
Pyramids.
    From the ground it looked great. Casually Craig said,
'Hey, Oz, I think now is the moment to try out the cable car
and see if it works. Why don't you go first?'
    Calmly I answered, 'Thanks, my friend, but it is all the
same to me. Why don't you go first?'
    Silence.
    Then we both burst out, at exactly the same time, 'It
certainly is high up! Do you think the cable will hold?'
Neither of us wanted to be the first to try out the cable: the
cable was at least 6.5 metres from the