In Flight Ascending - The autobiography of an atomic bomb.

In Flight Ascending

Most people would say I don’t have much to live for. But I’ve never been one to let the judgment of the world dictate my behavior or define my self-worth. I also don’t believe in a universal fate so, regardless of the general consensus towards my future, I’ve always dreamt of doing great things. I’d like to travel; I’d like to make a difference in the world. I’ve always thought that perhaps I can make a difference in just one person’s life by offering assistance at exactly the right time when hope is but a tenuous memory. Then again, I remember, it likely makes no difference at all what I desire.

As I understand it, the sole purpose of my creation seems to be laying in confinement and then dying a horrible, gruesome death. It’s accurate to say I’m enslaved, but I really have no complaints so far and patience is the one thing I was given in abundance. I know it’s a virtue and I’ve often overheard stories of virtuous men who have prevailed throughout history. I’ve always welcomed a challenge to test the strength of my patience so I wait in silence for something to happen. When I think from the people’s perspective, I’m confused. I don’t know why I’ve spent so much time sitting and doing nothing for them. I would expect more to be asked of me. I am locked in a room twenty-four hours a day, strapped down with metal bindings, and heavily guarded. I've never created any sort of commotion to necessitate such veritable protection, must less tried to escape.

I have a fairly insignificant family and I haven’t seen any of them since the most nascent stages of my existence. The only one of us of note was my sister who perished in Japan. While she did become known the world over, she took along more than one hundred thousand poor souls during her demise. That fact is something I try not to tell many others. I never had the opportunity to ask if her act was intentional and I suppose I’ll never have an answer to that question. I’d like to believe she had a good heart and only wished to pursue her own hopes and dreams, but it wasn’t to be. Hers was much more of an untimely, infamous death than a noteworthy story I should be repeating to you here. Almost every other one of us has been cast off to expire in some lifeless desert or to the middle of a vast, expansive ocean, miles from civilization. The thought that they were disposed of without purpose has always saddened me and I refuse to accept it as the truth. As much as I’ve tried, I could never make any sense of it.

I had resigned myself to the understanding that my story would be exactly the same as those who’ve preceded me: an unremarkable existence punctuated by a solitary exit from this world without a partner by my side. That changed several days ago when I was unexpectedly taken out of my room and loaded onto an airplane. I had never been on an airplane before and I was given no explanation whatsoever for this activity. My intuition told me it was the last time I’d know the peaceful serenity of my home.

Oh, how I was excited about the prospect of possibly being known to the world instead of passing on simply as a numbered prisoner, devoid of legacy. I sat on the airplane and watched the people do whatever it is people do. I still don’t understand why they seem to work so diligently and never accomplish anything at all. How inefficient! The plane must have finally been prepared so we took off. I was both confused and curious about where exactly these developments were leading us. We flew through the night and into the next morning. I saw the sun disappear below the horizon and then, some hours later, I saw it reappear on the other side. I was utterly and completely humbled by this spectacle. I internalized a deep understanding of just how insignificant I was in comparison to the planet. I was tired, but far too intrigued to rest well. I knew we had traveled far, but I was unable to pinpoint our exact location. We approached yet another tiny patch of lights off in the distance. They were indistinguishable from the last dozen or so we’d flown over so It seemed a foregone conclusion that this was not to be our final destination; we were simply too high in the air.

There was a bit of turbulence and I felt a jolt, then another. Were they letting me go? Was there a mechanical failure in our plane? I was not fearful at all since I knew the crew was skilled in their respective assignments. I could see this because of the precise and deliberate manner in which each person went about his or her business. Maybe this was all about me! Was I going to be in the history books? I heard a click and then felt actual freedom for the first time ever. I was falling, flying at an incredible rate with my nose pointing directly towards the ground. I suddenly felt every single molecule of air around me as I inhaled the sharp sensation of the chilly low atmosphere. I wished my sister were still around to see me. I couldn’t shake the thought that this must have been similar to her experience in some way. I felt so alive and energized; I wanted to share my exuberance with someone.

I was living an intense experience in that moment, but I then realize I’ve recalled these memories and run the gamut of emotions in only the last few fleeting seconds. I am now suddenly present again; my awareness is keen. Is time real? It doesn’t seem to be passing at a rate I’ve ever experienced before. It’s both painfully slow and rapidly beyond my comprehension at the same time. I can see so much of the beautiful world from up here. The curve of the earth’s surface is breathtaking as it rests snugly below the outer atmosphere. The thin blue line as they call it; at the same time both simple and strong. I envy the protective cerulean boundary between the physical history of all humankind and the seemingly infinite universe beyond. Such a thin blue line, yet so absolute in its protection of life on this planet. An important job, indeed! As I yearn for my own purpose to serve such grand merit, I feel fate’s conviction grabbing me by the nose and relentlessly tearing me from the sky. I won’t be able to enjoy this view for long.

Suddenly, presence. I am still dropping, the ground is getting closer. I know this can’t be right and there must have been some mistake. I am shouting as loud as I can muster in the face of the violent wind, but it isn’t changing anything. I am desperately pleading with the people, in fact, screaming at them to get out of the way. I realize they are not going to make it. A final cry, but it’s too late. I miss the solitude of my quiet cell. The flooding thoughts of my birth, my family, my hopes and dreams and my reasons for living; that must have been what I’d heard of life flashing before one’s eyes. I’ve met the earth again. In a fraction of a second there is blinding light, searing heat, then darkness. Dead silence. Life, mission, complete. I now fully discern the intent behind my creation and I am not happy. I am entombed with guilt. I wish there was something more I could have done. It just doesn’t seem fair. I am relieved to be finished with that cruel world.

Without pain or sensation of any kind, I am here now, again floating in expansive awareness. As I look down at the evidence of my passing and hover over the destruction I was apparently destined to engender, I think once again to the vast possibilities for my future. I wish to come back as a majestic willow tree next to a quiet pond, providing protective shade during the hottest of days and, at times, secret cover for a young couple’s first kiss. I think I’d like to be a brisk, cooling breeze, traveling the world over and brushing faces at just the right time on a warm summer’s day. I’ll strive to become the strength of hope, viral in my existence, encouraging my human hosts to fight through every dark day until a peaceful sun rises again.

~_/)~

© 2018 Erik J. Larsen