The Art of Failing Mad Science

Chapter 2: Elevators, Cranky Cats, and Mutated Hamburgers

April wasn't happy that I was leaving so early. She practically threw a fit over the phone. It took all of my calming and "Gurl I ain't happy about this either" skills to get her into a reasonable state and say goodbye. We weren't able to meet up again before the day I left, so we settled for a soppy video chat and a promise to keep in touch.
Gulliber was in a similar state about my departure. As the date approached, he became more and more clingy until he actually tried to come into the house one day. After an attack from a tidal wave of cats, however, he decided not to attempt that maneuver again. I made sure to give him lots of hugs and attention before we got in hovercar and took off for the airport.
     I had only ever been there once before, but I remembered enough to look forward to the visit. After the smods decided to put a stopper on pollution, all plain flights ceased as well. Now, giant, super blimps functioned as air-buses. Instead of a set destination, they ran routes around the world. To get where you needed to go you had to know when to switch blimps and the schedules for when they came and went. They where much slower as well, so the service inside and seating space was improved greatly. The prices for tickets varied depending on blimp quality and how far you were taking them. A glance at my ticket told us that we would be taking off from bridge C13.

     The airport itself was very impressive. As we approached along the road, it crept over the horizon until it towered into the sky. The bases, which contained the lobby and baggage drop offs, were several small domes surrounded on all sides by parking lots and maintenance hangers. From the center of each dome rose an incredibly tall tower, topped with a large room that was split off into waiting areas and had bridges protruding out from them in all directions. There were blimps docked at most of the bridges, and minuscule forms of passengers could be seen loading in or out of them. The entire structure looked physically impossible, but that was mad science for you.

     We parked our car in a spacious garage located within walking distance of takeoff buildings C and D. Being predestined by my flight ticket, we made our way over to the lobby dome labeled "C" and approached the bag check counter. The woman who manned the station (or womanned if you prefer) was plump and had a very friendly smile. She spoke to her fellow employees in liberal amounts and seemed rather distracted when dealing with those who came before us in line, which made the process go slow. Already her line was piling up more than any of the others. While it decreased the frequency with which the customers passed through the line, her loquacious attitude was welcoming.

     Our turn to approach the counter arrived, and the woman smiled in our direction warmly. She took one look at my hefty cart of luggage and let out a long whistle.

      "Whew honey! Moving away from home so soon?" This statement was followed by a deep chuckle as my mother handed over my ticket. Her eyes  widened fractionally and her back straightened. Suddenly, she seemed almost professional. Her job was completed much quicker than we had seen with any of her previous customers, and within ten minutes mom and I were heading towards security.

     Once through the security checkpoint, we got in line for the elevators. They ran up and down quickly through the tower that supported the terminals and bridges a few hundred feet above us. Along the route of the waiting line, signs advertised foods and small shops located at various points up and down the tower. If a customer had time to kill, they could press the appropriate button on the elevators and get off once that level was reached. Restaurants like these tended to sport increasingly fantastic views the closer to the top they were located. Because we had arrived an hour and a half before my flight was scheduled, we decided to stop for a bite at a Radpatties joint. They were well known for serving quality burgers with surprising attributes. As we boarded the elevator, Pammon began to squirm in his kitty carrier. His meows turned curious heads of our fellow passengers, and soon he was bombarded with faces attempting to peek at him through the bag's mesh. Those who got close enough were rewarded with growls, hisses, and close encounters with tiny, needle-sharp kitten claws. I had to apologize to several grumpy men and women and reprimanded the feisty lynx for his behavior. He paid no heed to the stern looks cast his way. It was a relief when we finally stepped out of the elevator.

     Mom ordered a mutant double patty burger, while I requested my favorite smoke burger. They were brought to our table by a server very quickly, and we ate them equally fast. As usual, my burger left a toasty aftertaste. I knew better than to burp.

     "Look Nona! I think that's your ship!" She pointed out the window to our right. Following her finger, I could see a velvet-colored airship coming through the air towards a bridge far above us. The dual blimp balloons drifted lazily parallel to each other, cradling between them a large, fancy looking cabin. There were lights, gears, propellers, and eterna-powered engines. Steam could be seen rising from the rear of the ship, creating small clouds in its wake. We watched it drift overhead until it reached the bridge and our necks became sore from looking up for so long.

     "We'd better get you boarded sweetheart," mom said, with a trace of sadness just barely detectable on her voice. I felt the urge to hug her, comfort her, tell her I would be home soon, tell her I would keep in touch. For now I settle with, "yeah, don't wanna be late!" I try to keep the tremble from my voice. I don't want to say goodbye, to leave her alone, to go somewhere unknown. Again, I am reminded that I know nothing about where I am going or what it will be like. My heart speeds up a little. Exactly how far away will I be? Will I be able to make any new friends? Will I be able to withstand the pressures of high school? Will I remember to do laundry often enough? My mother turns my head towards her, gently, and looks me in the eye. No words are exchanged, but we are temporarily in sinc. My older sister and I used to do this. It's like a special connection, if temporary. I know she loves me, and she gives me courage. She knows I trust her, and I give her a promise. A promise to never forget home, but not to hang on to it too tight. Just before we break the trance and look away, I catch sight of something, glimmering faintly in her eye. It is not a tear, more like a watermark. Concentrating harder, it almost appears to be a symbol. But mother catches me looking, and turns away.  In silence we return to the elevator and continue our ascent.