Waving Goodbye
1/1
He hovers over the building, finger lightly poised on the joystick as he glances from the diagram spread out on his console, to the building below. It’s a pretty building; all twisted glass and high windows, surrounded by a curving road, overgrown grass, and fenced in blue squares. On his diagram, it is simply marked by a bullseye and identified as ‘Building A’.
A voice crackles out of the radio “Base to J-man, base to J-man. Are you in position?” The pilot nods, maneuvering over the building. “About to do it.”
Suddenly, a cacophony of alarm bells spill from the building. The pilot jumps, fearing that he’s been discovered. His plane feels oddly naked in the air without any protective mechanisms, as his hands reflexively shoot to the strap of the parachute he knows is not there. Parachutes and protective mechanisms…are not necessary for missions like this.
To his surprise though, instead of troops, children are spilling out of the building. Children. Smiling children, nervous children, shivering children. Innocent, alive children.
His finger stabs at the radio button over and over until a dispatcher answers “Problem, J-man?”
The pilot nods, his voice even “I believe I’ve been directed to the wrong building. This is a…school.”
The dispatcher is silent for a second, and then he speaks again “I’ll fetch the commander.”
In a few seconds the commander is on the line, with his soft silky voice “What is it?”
The pilot repeats what he told the dispatcher. The commander is silent for a second, just like the previous listener…but his next words are startlingly different “I’m not seeing the problem.”
The pilot frowns, glancing down at the growing number of children before speaking urgently “Sir, this is a school. A school full of children.”
The commander replies lazily “And…” His voice trails off mockingly.
The pilot leans closer to the radio, frustrated. “Sir, I believe in the cause…but killing children?”
The voice of his commander oozes from the radio again "Just think of what they'll grow up to be. The very same adults we're fighting against. This is a suicide that needs to be done....before they can become those adults."
His voice snaps and twists, coiling like a snake "And even if you don't crash this plane today, we'll send you back...or we'll send someone else to do the job. Do you want that? Do you want to stand dishonored, to lose the martyr's death, all for a bunch of....children?" His voice, so hoarse and scornful at the end of the tirade, becomes soft and smooth again as he utters his next words, like a machine that's been oiled "All you have to do is shift to the left, tip your noise down, and drop."
The commander's words echo in his mind.
Just shift to the left, tip your nose down, and drop.
So easy....
He hovers and hovers, the engine humming beneath him. Suddenly, he looks out the window, does it so quick and fast that it's almost as though he's tricking his eyes into returning to the landscape of innocents. They're trickling back inside now, following some unknown signal. He breathes a sigh of relief. Once they're gone, he can pretend it's just a structure again...a construct of his enemies, something he can mindlessly hate. Just building A, a building he's been trained to destroy.
A small movement below disturbs his thoughts. It's a boy who's just spotted him, saluting..and then waving, before being pushed inside. The pilot rips his gaze away, breathing hard. Enough.
He shifts the plane to the left, shooting one more glance at the building, at the soon to be twisted ruins...only to see that same boy's eyes, shining with awe as he watches the pilot.
Just shift to the left, tip your nose down, and drop.
He shifts to the left again. And again. And again, until his path has recalled the commander to the radio "What are you doi-" The slick tone is cut off with one press of a button as he accelerates, going straight and steady now...until he's above the building he started from, where he was clapped on the back by the commander and sent on this suicidal mission. And in his mind a bullseye is painted on it...in his mind a giant letter A is stamped on it. This is building A.
And just like he's been taught, just like he's been told, he shifts to the left, tips his nose down…and drops.
He is flying and he is falling and the plane is shattering all around him. A giant fireball heads his way, shuffling pieces of shrapnel in front of it. Yet as they pierce through his skin, as the fire chases his skin away down to the bone, all he can see is the boy.
The boy, squinting up at the pilot and then smiling a big toothy grin. The boy, raising his hand to his forehead in a salute, and then waving frantically.
And now the pilot is raising his hand, to the mirage of the boy standing there, and he is waving too, waving back, as he collapses into the devouring disaster.
Waving goodbye.
A voice crackles out of the radio “Base to J-man, base to J-man. Are you in position?” The pilot nods, maneuvering over the building. “About to do it.”
Suddenly, a cacophony of alarm bells spill from the building. The pilot jumps, fearing that he’s been discovered. His plane feels oddly naked in the air without any protective mechanisms, as his hands reflexively shoot to the strap of the parachute he knows is not there. Parachutes and protective mechanisms…are not necessary for missions like this.
To his surprise though, instead of troops, children are spilling out of the building. Children. Smiling children, nervous children, shivering children. Innocent, alive children.
His finger stabs at the radio button over and over until a dispatcher answers “Problem, J-man?”
The pilot nods, his voice even “I believe I’ve been directed to the wrong building. This is a…school.”
The dispatcher is silent for a second, and then he speaks again “I’ll fetch the commander.”
In a few seconds the commander is on the line, with his soft silky voice “What is it?”
The pilot repeats what he told the dispatcher. The commander is silent for a second, just like the previous listener…but his next words are startlingly different “I’m not seeing the problem.”
The pilot frowns, glancing down at the growing number of children before speaking urgently “Sir, this is a school. A school full of children.”
The commander replies lazily “And…” His voice trails off mockingly.
The pilot leans closer to the radio, frustrated. “Sir, I believe in the cause…but killing children?”
The voice of his commander oozes from the radio again "Just think of what they'll grow up to be. The very same adults we're fighting against. This is a suicide that needs to be done....before they can become those adults."
His voice snaps and twists, coiling like a snake "And even if you don't crash this plane today, we'll send you back...or we'll send someone else to do the job. Do you want that? Do you want to stand dishonored, to lose the martyr's death, all for a bunch of....children?" His voice, so hoarse and scornful at the end of the tirade, becomes soft and smooth again as he utters his next words, like a machine that's been oiled "All you have to do is shift to the left, tip your noise down, and drop."
The commander's words echo in his mind.
Just shift to the left, tip your nose down, and drop.
So easy....
He hovers and hovers, the engine humming beneath him. Suddenly, he looks out the window, does it so quick and fast that it's almost as though he's tricking his eyes into returning to the landscape of innocents. They're trickling back inside now, following some unknown signal. He breathes a sigh of relief. Once they're gone, he can pretend it's just a structure again...a construct of his enemies, something he can mindlessly hate. Just building A, a building he's been trained to destroy.
A small movement below disturbs his thoughts. It's a boy who's just spotted him, saluting..and then waving, before being pushed inside. The pilot rips his gaze away, breathing hard. Enough.
He shifts the plane to the left, shooting one more glance at the building, at the soon to be twisted ruins...only to see that same boy's eyes, shining with awe as he watches the pilot.
Just shift to the left, tip your nose down, and drop.
He shifts to the left again. And again. And again, until his path has recalled the commander to the radio "What are you doi-" The slick tone is cut off with one press of a button as he accelerates, going straight and steady now...until he's above the building he started from, where he was clapped on the back by the commander and sent on this suicidal mission. And in his mind a bullseye is painted on it...in his mind a giant letter A is stamped on it. This is building A.
And just like he's been taught, just like he's been told, he shifts to the left, tips his nose down…and drops.
He is flying and he is falling and the plane is shattering all around him. A giant fireball heads his way, shuffling pieces of shrapnel in front of it. Yet as they pierce through his skin, as the fire chases his skin away down to the bone, all he can see is the boy.
The boy, squinting up at the pilot and then smiling a big toothy grin. The boy, raising his hand to his forehead in a salute, and then waving frantically.
And now the pilot is raising his hand, to the mirage of the boy standing there, and he is waving too, waving back, as he collapses into the devouring disaster.
Waving goodbye.
♠ ♠ ♠
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