Pilot, cool under pressure, found the needed mail missing and so sat back and paused, considering. For some reason he remembered the first time, as a small Elevator, no more than six years old, he had heard the term ‘plastic surgery’, overheard through an adult conversation. He remembers his reaction, as well, in the sameContinue reading “Pilot Battles his Interface”
Carefully, he replaced the bandages and with a heavy heart he stood up. Reaching up to the sink he washed El’s tiny hands as Mother had shown him, rubbing the white bar with I-V-O-R-Y stamped on it, until the bubbles appeared.
Normally his Elevator would have braked smoothly, banking across the atmosphere at terrific speed but in a controlled and predictable manner. Instead, he could feel himself flipping end over end over end as the Elevator spun out of control, feverishly trying to right itself and brake by using its automatic stabilizers and powerful thrusters. He headed directly for a massive ditch below; and crashed into the earth there, pushing up mounds and masses of red earth in the process. The Elevator’s smoking chassis left a charred trail over a dark, grassy embankment, turning the wet wilderness into a steaming, slippery hell fit only for a fire demon. Not being a fire demon however, Pilot was shaken rather badly.
Shards of sunlight punctuated by sharp shadows, sliding and flashing across the paper as his hand gripped the pen and slid it rhythmically across the graduated lines. Dressed for the weekend’s summer weather in shorts, tank top, hat and glasses, and a green bandana worked around his neck and face as a mask.
The sun, flashing through the trees and the windows of the moving vehicle continued to trace shadows and shapes on his Brain Paper.
Other, interior perspectives interested Pilot most. For instance, whether one was coming at a topic from the point of view of the Blue Hills of Understanding was considerably different than if one was being either an Emerald City Builder or an Orange Anecdote Instigator was, again, entirely different from a Golden Pyramid Architect. Anyone can do this, if one tries.
Pilot continues to operate his Elevator along his unique fifth-dimensional lines. I am a writerI am a designer, architect.. So what, who am I? Who is PILOT here, what do said reports mean? What difference should I expect, now? Reader questions: Is Pilot paid? Is Pilot human? Does Pilot have a profession? What is Pilot’sContinue reading “Contribute”
He could still hear that loud ticking, resounding in his auditory canals.
Indeed, was there not plenty to smile about? On the eve of Christmas Eve, Pilot had frequently felt this kind of excitement and bubbling joy inside. This time however, was different. Pilot knew this year was his own ‘tipping point’ of his own transition, that long drawn-out affair of decades past when he had so often chaffed at his own progress, had transitioned to something more fun, in ’21.
J feel more and more in flow State, thought Pilot. He was vaguely aware of Orange then Red Lights, tandem in nature, tandem in his physical awareness of his elevator. Next of course is always Now in flow State as he adjusted his brand as he adjusted his belt. Focusing then its attention on himContinue reading “Flow State”
And then SILENCE. All about was a golden orb glistening odd somehow as there was only a sense of up. Pilot could sense UP was still UP. Other than that, and he was not absolutely certain. He could detect a certain deformity in the horizontal axis left and right, in that things were not alwaysContinue reading “And then SILENCE”