Scaling the Spine

Standing still won't cut it. Right in front of me was a towering, textured cliff—a row of thick hardcover books wedged tight together. I reached up, wedged my fingers into the grooved cloth spine of an encyclopedia, and hauled my weight upward. My plastic joints strained, but I dug my boots into the tiny gap between two volumes and shoved with everything I had. The climb was steep and awkward, but I made it to the flat top edge. Up here, looking out across the dimly lit room, the drop is dizzying. Exactly the kind of vantage point I needed.