But Robert knew that no matter how comfortable the ride was, he'd be a nervous wreck the whole way up; in part because of his fears, but also because he'd managed to hide that fear during his psychological evaluation. He'd prefer being launched in a shuttle with an exploding rocket beneath him over riding for hours in a glorified elevator. The inner workings of the space elevator had been explained to him; the ribbon, constructed of a super strong carbon nanotube composite was held aloft by centrifugal force—it's why all four space elevators were built at the equator where the earth spins fastest. The station at the end of the ribbon served as a counter weight and was held in a perfect geosynchronous orbit.  The module clung to the ribbon with a set of rollers which were powered from the ground by a free-electron laser, and could move up the ribbon at a steady pace. All this technology made Robert excited and intrigued, but his old fears were coming back to haunt him.

When Robert was a child, he avoided elevators at all cost. He'd sooner take thirty flights of stairs then ride in an elevator. Things had changed for him ten years ago when he went on a date in Seattle—the first in two years—with a stunning woman who seemed more interested in his mind than in his body, which was a good thing...a very good thing. They had a wonderful dinner—lobster with shrimp cocktail. For him it was one of those nights you never forget.

To his never ending surprise, she had called him the next day, and invited him out for a surprise. He happily accepted. For twenty minutes they drove around the city, him blindfolded, her behind the wheel. When she parked the car, Robert felt an excitement he had never felt before. His throat was parched. His heart was racing. When she took off the blindfold, all that disappeared. He stood at the base of the Seattle Space Needle and looked up. The blood fled from his face and his mouth dropped open. He began to sweat at the base of his back and felt a pain in his knees.

Mind spinning, he tried to think of an excuse to use the stairs, but couldn't conceive of a way to justify climbing fifty-two stories. Dumbfounded, he couldn't react. She had grabbed him and dragged him forward, racing toward the elevator. He was still looking up when the elevator doors closed behind him and the doorman said, "Next stop, observation deck, five hundred and twenty feet up."