This is something I came up with about half a year ago... or maybe a year and a half. Either way, I just though of it recently, and I finished it up. It was intended to be part of a novel, but I thought it'd do well enough on it's own.
A couple pages of text I found amusing at some point in my life. With lots of lines in-between, because tabs are foreign to this posting system. And, as I did come up with it a while ago, there's probably an error or two here. Let me know if that's the case.
A couple pages of text I found amusing at some point in my life. With lots of lines in-between, because tabs are foreign to this posting system. And, as I did come up with it a while ago, there's probably an error or two here. Let me know if that's the case.
In this dream, I stood in a row of about 30 men and women in a large airplane, with only our flight suits, facing the wall.
Our aged instructor, with wrinkles in his face and dark glasses obscuring his eyes and speaking in a stereotypical accent with a lot of "sons" and "ain'ts," addressed us: “do you want to serve your countries?’
The response from everyone but me was: “sir, yes, sir!”
“Do you want to serve your peoples?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Do you want to serve humanity?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
The young pilot shouted in a reasonable imitation of the instructor: “what’s your name?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
He laughed. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
The instructor ignored him. “Do you want to further the cause of progress, of civilization, and thrust mankind into a golden age of eternal prosperity?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Then jump!”
A hatch opened.
I was wondering if he had said what I though he said when I realized I was the only cadet who had yet to jump off the plane.
The instructor asked me, “Is there a problem, son?”
“Yes. Shouldn’t we have, I don’t know, a parachute?”
He shook his head. “We don’t have the resources to provide luxuries like parachutes to every cadet that wants one.”
“But you have a parachute. Are you going to use it?’
He laughed. “Oh, I know what you’re thinking, son, and I can tell you that’s against regulations.”
“But how am I going to get down safely?”
He shrugged. “I’m sure God will find a way.”
I gave up trying to argue. “Why exactly are we being asked to jump out of a plane without a parachute?”
“I’m afraid that’s classified.”
“Classified!?”
“Yes. It’s important that we have utmost secrecy regarding the reason for this mission. Anyone on this plane, even you,” he glared at me as if I were someone extremely suspicious, “may be a spy; for the enemy!”
I raised an eyebrow. “If I were, what could I possibly do at this point?”
“Sabotage the plane, or try and take over the plane. Or if you jumped and somehow survived the fall-“
"So I will die if I jump, right?”
The instructor tilted his head back and appeared to be trying very hard to not say anything he’d regret.
I pressed on: “What’s the ‘enemy?’”
He looked back at me. “The enemy,” he said in a hushed tone, as if the fate of the world depended on me knowing what he had to say, “is an idea. And those who follow that idea are criminals, rebels, and terrorists. These are not people that oppose us. They are devious, paranoid roaches! They are animals! These traitorous beings see conspiracies everywhere; they believe that everything we hope to accomplish is evil and wrong, and they seek to undermine our efforts at every turn. If they aren’t stopped, then they’ll drag us back into the Dark Ages!”
“Then why are they a threat? If they’re that evil, they can’t have a lot of supporters.”
“Ah, but that ain’t the case.” He seemed to be taking great pleasure in lecturing me. “The enemy spreads lies, to achieve their greater goals. Some people listen to these lies, and believe them, and act on them, thinking that they are doing good for humanity, but are actually carrying us all toward our own destruction!”
“What kind of lies?”
“I’ll tell you son, but I want you to understand that this is off the record.” I nodded. He took a deep breath, bracing himself before repeating the evil words of these alleged roaches. He said dramatically: “they say that people should be paid for their work!”
The pilot piped in: “That would be nice.”
The instructor glared at him. “Quiet up there! Isn’t the satisfaction of a job well done enough for you?! Besides, it’s not like you really do anything. You just sit there and play on your Lunar-Two-Thousand.”
The pilot looked up from his portable console, just for a moment, looking irritated. “It’s Lunar-Four-Thousand.”
The instructor frowned. “I could have sworn it was Two-Thousand.”
The pilot laughed. “That was yesterday. I can’t believe I kept it for so long. I mean, it was obsolete by a week when I bought it. I probably shouldn’t have even bought this one, I mean, the Lunar-Five-Thousand comes out just-”
I turned to the instructor. “Why is he here if he doesn’t do anything?”
The instructor sighed. “Well, any half-decent plane can fly itself nowadays, so there ain’t any good pilots, but the higher-ups insist on having a pilot in the plane, so I take who I can get.”
The pilot’s fist rose into the air. “Yes! Finally beat wave 57!” He looked at his watch. “Wow, can you believe that took me almost ten seconds?”
I had the courage to ask, “how many waves are there?”
“Four million.”
Looking towards the cockpit, it came to my attention that right in front of us, was a rather large cliff, and it looked as though we might crash into it. I looked at the pilot. “Uh, you might want to look up.”
“And mess up my groove? No way, man. Ask him.” He titled his head towards the co-pilot, who at that moment gave an extremely loud snore.
I walked over to the co-pilot and lifted his headphones up slightly, just to see what he was listening to. A deafening torrent of unrecognizable sound came out of it.
The pilot said: “Ooh, hardcore-death-power-acidic-metal. No way he’ll be waking up anytime soon.”
I turned to the instructor. “Do you see anything odd in front of us?”
“I can barely see ten feet in front of me. These glasses aren’t-“
The cliff loomed closer.
“Then I think I will jump.”
He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. “That’s the spirit!” He looked out the hatch. “Hard to tell, but I think we’re over suburbia! You might even land in a pool!”
I was then treated to yet another unpleasant “falling dream.” My subconscious loves those. As usual, I didn’t even get to see if I lived.
Our aged instructor, with wrinkles in his face and dark glasses obscuring his eyes and speaking in a stereotypical accent with a lot of "sons" and "ain'ts," addressed us: “do you want to serve your countries?’
The response from everyone but me was: “sir, yes, sir!”
“Do you want to serve your peoples?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Do you want to serve humanity?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
The young pilot shouted in a reasonable imitation of the instructor: “what’s your name?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
He laughed. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
The instructor ignored him. “Do you want to further the cause of progress, of civilization, and thrust mankind into a golden age of eternal prosperity?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Then jump!”
A hatch opened.
I was wondering if he had said what I though he said when I realized I was the only cadet who had yet to jump off the plane.
The instructor asked me, “Is there a problem, son?”
“Yes. Shouldn’t we have, I don’t know, a parachute?”
He shook his head. “We don’t have the resources to provide luxuries like parachutes to every cadet that wants one.”
“But you have a parachute. Are you going to use it?’
He laughed. “Oh, I know what you’re thinking, son, and I can tell you that’s against regulations.”
“But how am I going to get down safely?”
He shrugged. “I’m sure God will find a way.”
I gave up trying to argue. “Why exactly are we being asked to jump out of a plane without a parachute?”
“I’m afraid that’s classified.”
“Classified!?”
“Yes. It’s important that we have utmost secrecy regarding the reason for this mission. Anyone on this plane, even you,” he glared at me as if I were someone extremely suspicious, “may be a spy; for the enemy!”
I raised an eyebrow. “If I were, what could I possibly do at this point?”
“Sabotage the plane, or try and take over the plane. Or if you jumped and somehow survived the fall-“
"So I will die if I jump, right?”
The instructor tilted his head back and appeared to be trying very hard to not say anything he’d regret.
I pressed on: “What’s the ‘enemy?’”
He looked back at me. “The enemy,” he said in a hushed tone, as if the fate of the world depended on me knowing what he had to say, “is an idea. And those who follow that idea are criminals, rebels, and terrorists. These are not people that oppose us. They are devious, paranoid roaches! They are animals! These traitorous beings see conspiracies everywhere; they believe that everything we hope to accomplish is evil and wrong, and they seek to undermine our efforts at every turn. If they aren’t stopped, then they’ll drag us back into the Dark Ages!”
“Then why are they a threat? If they’re that evil, they can’t have a lot of supporters.”
“Ah, but that ain’t the case.” He seemed to be taking great pleasure in lecturing me. “The enemy spreads lies, to achieve their greater goals. Some people listen to these lies, and believe them, and act on them, thinking that they are doing good for humanity, but are actually carrying us all toward our own destruction!”
“What kind of lies?”
“I’ll tell you son, but I want you to understand that this is off the record.” I nodded. He took a deep breath, bracing himself before repeating the evil words of these alleged roaches. He said dramatically: “they say that people should be paid for their work!”
The pilot piped in: “That would be nice.”
The instructor glared at him. “Quiet up there! Isn’t the satisfaction of a job well done enough for you?! Besides, it’s not like you really do anything. You just sit there and play on your Lunar-Two-Thousand.”
The pilot looked up from his portable console, just for a moment, looking irritated. “It’s Lunar-Four-Thousand.”
The instructor frowned. “I could have sworn it was Two-Thousand.”
The pilot laughed. “That was yesterday. I can’t believe I kept it for so long. I mean, it was obsolete by a week when I bought it. I probably shouldn’t have even bought this one, I mean, the Lunar-Five-Thousand comes out just-”
I turned to the instructor. “Why is he here if he doesn’t do anything?”
The instructor sighed. “Well, any half-decent plane can fly itself nowadays, so there ain’t any good pilots, but the higher-ups insist on having a pilot in the plane, so I take who I can get.”
The pilot’s fist rose into the air. “Yes! Finally beat wave 57!” He looked at his watch. “Wow, can you believe that took me almost ten seconds?”
I had the courage to ask, “how many waves are there?”
“Four million.”
Looking towards the cockpit, it came to my attention that right in front of us, was a rather large cliff, and it looked as though we might crash into it. I looked at the pilot. “Uh, you might want to look up.”
“And mess up my groove? No way, man. Ask him.” He titled his head towards the co-pilot, who at that moment gave an extremely loud snore.
I walked over to the co-pilot and lifted his headphones up slightly, just to see what he was listening to. A deafening torrent of unrecognizable sound came out of it.
The pilot said: “Ooh, hardcore-death-power-acidic-metal. No way he’ll be waking up anytime soon.”
I turned to the instructor. “Do you see anything odd in front of us?”
“I can barely see ten feet in front of me. These glasses aren’t-“
The cliff loomed closer.
“Then I think I will jump.”
He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. “That’s the spirit!” He looked out the hatch. “Hard to tell, but I think we’re over suburbia! You might even land in a pool!”
I was then treated to yet another unpleasant “falling dream.” My subconscious loves those. As usual, I didn’t even get to see if I lived.
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