Five Miles Out

On a dark Air-Coney flight, Pilot Keith Houghton tussled with the controls of the struggling AIrcraft. Behind him, tucked gently under the utility bench lay the bodily remains of the former co-pilot. The man had been capable enough. However, a breath-taking stretch of turbulence had done just that - the shock had been too much for his heart. Now it was up to the Pilot and his gleaming steel flying partner to battle for their lives through a blinding snow of a caliber that matched the one that flooded Galveston Texas two hundred years earlier to the day.

Air-Coney was a Brooklyn, NY based experimental Avionics company that featured a path blazing Pilot-AIrcaft partnership model. Despite the attempts of detractors to drench the public in Grade-C Movie hysteria, the carrier's unique innovation was already proving its worth. Pilots formed deep emotional bonds with the planes they flew - and that reason was in the unique spelling of the word AIrcraft.

Though quieter than Hollywood creations, these planes showcased second-generation Artificial Intelligence chips. Since the President George W. Bush insisted upon searing the nation's psyche with aftershock images of September 2001, this scrappy little New York based carrier took action. During the conceptual stage of negotiations, the usually reserved CEO of Air-Coney shut down all opposition with the classic retort, "What could be worse than what actually happened? My ten year old son could program the instruction 'Avoid the Big Building' ." Now Pilot Keith Houghton and AIrcraft Clarisse gathered themselves to get through another bone jarring snow storm, One More Time.

Keith wriggled in his chair as he stretched his back during a thirty-second lull from the chaos. "Okay, Clarisse, this one's for the retirement speeches. Show 'em all why you're the Diva of the fleet." A spread of LED lights swirled green in response.

---

The semi-sentient plane didn't trouble itself with a wordy analysis - voice pitch and key phrases were enough. Because the silicon nerve center wasn't capable of direct conversation, the design team decided not to fake it with voice samples. Pilots don't want to be chattered at anyway - just show them the readouts.

However, Clarisse's persona was an aberration turned breakthrough. Coincidentally hooked up to the same hard drive as someone's music collection, she spontaneously began playing songs she deemed relevant to the pilot's situation during simulations. During the famous "Last Doubts" investment meeting, the Venture Capital investors began their predictable pseudo-apologetic speech of Why We Can't Do This. Meanwhile, a distraught junior engineer discovered that someone had forgotten to take Clarisse offline before the meeting - and she was hearing the ongoing proceedings. During an awkward silence, the enginer called into the air, "Clarisse, what do you think?"

The answer thundered back over the simulation stereo speakers, conjured up from the first track of the Jefferson Airplane 1989 reunion album: "I Like Planes - Experimental Aircraft!" That day a billion dollars of startup funding was signed. Junior Engineer Keith Houghton and AIrcraft Clarisse later became the first operational team. Now, after a crisp forty years of service, they were on their sunset trip- if only the snow would quit long enough for them to see it.

---

The Galveston Bi-Centennial snow had appeared with epic grandeur worthy of its predecessor. It had ceased to be a mere storm, and had become an Event. Desperate tactical jockeying earlier had barely sufficed, but at a staggering cost. The co-pilot was dead from shock aggravated by concussion from some loose object. Most of the passengers were dangerously air-sick. Then Clarisse declared her own problem.

'Structural Integrity Alert' began flashing. The horrific rattling earlier had strained the wing joints far, far past the tolerances into the red zone. Of course, the wing itself wasn't going anywhere, but the damage was interfering with the electrical cabling operating the flaps. One more good jolt might be enough to severely hinder stable navigation.

Now they were through the worst of the turbulence, and the test of nerves began. With no strenuous actions required, the initial adrenaline surge began to fade. Pilot Keith Houghton felt the first wave of fatigue slithering through him. The next few hours called for focus. He opened the cover to a small compartment in the armrest and fingered a couple of small objects.

The first was a little brass & gold "laughing" Buddha Tertawa statue. Following the popular Asian village custom, Keith rubbed the "belly of the middle way" for good luck. Adding two syllables to the traditional pronunciation, he began to chant softly.

The other was a hand-modified 16-beat Swiss metronome. Keith had paid an extra fee for the merchant to replace beats two and sixteen with rests instead of down-beats. To this distinctive rhythm, Keith began to chant softly.

'Nam _ Myo-ho Ren-ge Ky-o. Nam My-o-ho Ren-ge Kyo _'.

Trained by their forty year career together, Clarisse picked up the distinctive cadence right away. A remastered digital copy of Mike Oldfield's signature flying tune "Five Miles Out" floated through the cockpit speakers. Keith broke into an exhausted smile, and stroked the leather padded dash trim fondly. They were going to make it home.

Find more by TaoPhoenix in the Author Index.

Comment on this story in the Aphelion Forum

Return to Aphelion's Index page.