The Serene Light HTML version

The pilot glanced ahead through the windshield.
The sun was reflecting on the glass, blinding his vision, yet he could clearly
see the contour of a face. He could see the features well, hung up in the air at
10.000 km altitude, in the freezing silence. Shreds of clouds rushing by, drops of
humid steam condensing on the view, yet the vision was still there.
He blinked. The rays of the sun filled the aircraft cabin, absolute and
overwhelming. He steered the plane, lost in the view ahead. It was like a dream.
The aircraft swished over the top of the mountains, steep cliffs and sharp rocks
he could crash into any moment.
Yet her face remained there, in front of his eyes… How many years had
passed since he had last seen her?... Ten? Fifteen?... Twenty?... They were
teenagers when he had last met her… And yet there she was, in the air, a
transparent vision, sweet and serenely melting in the sky… He steered the plane
up again. The aircraft control seemed to be slightly stuck. He grabbed it with
both hands and tried to point the nose of the plane above the cliffs that were
coming closer, zooming in, sharp and still…
“Come on!” he muttered between his teeth.
The aircraft equipment did not seem to respond right.
“Ground control” he heard in his headphones. “Blue Eagle. Are you there?
“Blue Eagle here.” he answered. “I’m having some difficulties with the
plane. Over”
“Blue Eagle, I can’t see you on my radar. You’re off the tracks. Where are
you? Over.”
“I don’t know: I’m above the mountain and about to slam into some rocks
at the top of it… over.”
“What mountains?! Over.”
“These mountains that I seem to find each time I’m up in the air, over.”