Chapter Pi

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Fiction

Gabriela Weston Figueroa is wholly satisfied. The meeting in Havana went well.

The construction of the resort is on schedule. Her network of executive spas and retreats is expanding across the Caribbean. The gene treatments at the Puerto Viejo clinic produced stunning results. She is forty-two years old, but when she looks in the mirror, she sees a face twelve years younger. As she gazes out the windshield of the plane, the moonlight reflects enchantingly off the Gulf of Mexico below. The coastline of Louisiana is a murky line on the horizon visible between wisps of pale cloud. Rarely has she felt so perfect, so complete, so in control of her life.
    The view is impressive, but the cockpit is not the most comfortable place to sit. She stands, stretches, and pads back into the main cabin. Dustin is sitting in one of the leather bucket seats, staring into his node as usual, frowning slightly. She kisses him lightly on the forehead. "You're not wearing that cute uniform I got you," she teases.
    He concentrates on the screen for a moment longer, then smirks at her. "Oh, like I need to dress up as a pilot."
    "That's your job, isn't it? I don't pay you to make out with me."
    "Aren't I worth it?" He grabs her around the waist. "I'm no more a pilot than you are. All I did was read the manual."
    "You're doing a great job. Keep it up. And now, Pilot, I order you to give me a massage. Swedish."
    "Mmmm. Give me three minutes."
    "All right, baby. I'm watching the clock."
    Dustin looks back at the screen. He's playing on a hacker-infested node, trying out a new agent he's cleverly dubbed Goldenboy. Feeling impetuous, he's started a flame war with someone named INFERNO. Judging by the others renaming him as “DEAD MEAT”, this is a very bad idea. It's rapidly becoming less fun, but his wounded ego makes him take a few parting shots.

    Goldenboy: ha ha ha ha you're too much
    wizrd: HASTA LA VISTA, DEAD MEAT
    Goldenboy: INFERNO is a 12 year old girl right?
    INFERNO: IM SATAN AND YR MY BEOTCH
    Goldenboy: wotta bunch of pathetic geeks. GET A LIFE.
    crabber: someone get rid of da LUZ3R
    wizrd: hes gone!!!
    INFERNO: GOODBYE

    Dustin starts fingering out another witty comeback, but suddenly the screen blanks. "What the hell?" he says to himself.
    "0WNZ0RED !!!", the screen flashes in low-rez red blocks.
    "That's impossible," Dustin mumbles. “They can't hack my node.”
    The plane lurches. "GOING DOWN?!" his screen says. He feels a sudden lurch in the pit of his stomach, then his body involuntarily rises from the seat. He grabs at the armrests, dropping the node which bounces off the ceiling. They are descending, fast.
    "That's definitely not possible!" he yells.
    "What's going on, baby?" Gabriela shouts from the rear using her most outraged executive voice.
    "Wait, let me see-" Dustin says loudly, trying to sound confident, but his voice quavers slightly. He stands and stumbles to the cockpit, placing his palms on the ceiling for stability.
    "0WNZ0RED 0WNZ0RED 0WNZ0RED", the screens in the cockpit flash in bloody red and electric yellow.
    "Oh shit," Dustin says, as Gabriela appears in the cockpit door. He throws himself into the pilot's chair and begins hitting buttons. There are only a few basic controls, since the plane is autonomous and voice controlled. No effect. He glances outside: rapidly rising moonlit ocean. The engine noise is alarmingly loud. He can't call up the nav display, but his inner ear tells him they're streaking downward like a jet-propelled spear.
    "What's happening!" she barks. "Dustin, tell me!"
    "I don't know!" he shouts in frustration. "There's something wrong with the plane!"
    She collapses into the other seat. "Fix it! Do something!"
    "I'm trying!" He hammers the big red STOP button over and over. Nothing.
    "0WNZ0RED!!!" the screens scream.
    "No no oh no" Gabriela moans as they break through a thin layer of haze and the whitecaps below become visible. Dustin grits his teeth and emits a strangled scream. For a hundredth of a second a single cresting wave fills the windshield. Then there is a crushing blow too sudden to comprehend.
    Minutes later, nothing remains in this anonymous stretch of the Gulf but a dissipating cloud of ionized grey vapor and floating fragments of composite.