Mr Hook's Big Black Box

Martin Cheese: Action!

If I thought being around soldiers was terrifying, that was nothing compared to the next few days. Now, I know it was all the hallucinogens in the air, or in the water. I've read the stories, same as everyone else. But at the time we didn't know what was going down. It seemed so real, even though it was impossible, and that's maybe even worse. You feel like you can't trust your own senses anymore, you worry you might be going mad. And if you are, then how will you ever know what's real again?

My strongest memory from those few days was walking down Chancellor's Way, and then suddenly everybody's screaming. Now, I knew there'd been some weird stuff happening, some other folks had seen the soldiers since my run-in with them, and there were all kinds of rumours flying around. So my first thought was that somebody with an overactive imagination saw a guy dressed in black and leapt to conclusions. But I was nervous too, my hands in close to my body, getting ready to defend myself. Just in case, it's an automatic response, you know? You'd be just as nervy if you'd experienced the kind of stuff I had over the last few days.

There were students everywhere, running. Some older guys too, the campus isn't exactly limited to kids. There's enough shops to make it pretty much a town in its own right, and since some of the arty crafty students pulled together enough money to set up their boutiques and fund their studies, there's been a steady stream of normal people coming to check it out. Hipsters, I think they called them then. No soldiers, though. Nobody dressed all in black except a couple of emos, and no sign of weapons. But every single person I could see was running, screaming. The danger might have been a stampede then, until I noticed some girl looking up in sheer terror.

I raised my eyes, and saw it coming straight towards me. My first thought was some kind of experimental fighter jet. That would kind of explain why there were secret soldiers on campus, though I still had no idea what they'd actually be doing here. I didn't think into it that much, I just saw an aircraft streaking low, and I ran. I was running straight ahead of it, I would have realised how dumb that was if I'd actually stopped to think, but then I just ran. It was just above the rooftops, maybe forty feet above me and a hundred yards behind. I stumbled, and another fleeing student nearly tripped over my leg. The aircraft came bearing down on me, like it was going to land in the street.

Now, I know Chancellor's is pretty wide, with benches in the middle and space for all these students milling around chatting, a dozen tables outside some of the cafés where people like to study. But there's no way I would have considered it suitable for use as a runway. There must be something very wrong. And as I sat prone on the ground, too scared even to get up, I saw what else was strange about that thing.

If this was an experimental fighter, it was very experimental. The wings weren't solid, flat areas of metal to give lift, like most of the modern craft I'd seen in films or whatever. Each wing was made of half a dozen pieces moving against each other, twisting to let it keep flying while it raced low along a shopping street. And the joints didn't look like anything I'd expect a plane to have. Under the thin skin of metal, I could see like muscles flexing, sinews becoming taut under the surface. I couldn't make out what I was seeing. I wondered if it might be some kind of bird, and it was just large enough that I'd mistaken it for a plane. But as it passed overhead, maybe a dozen feet away, I could make out the clear outline of jet engines beneath each wing, and a dozen missiles suspended along its body. It had legs like a living thing, pulled in tight against its body, but at the end it had landing wheels, huge bulbous tyres, on an axle drilled through its talons.

I didn't know what I was looking at, whether I should think it's some high-tech miracle of surgical engineering, or something out of a nightmare. Probably both. Then I looked back at the other people milling around in panic, and I realised the thing must have been firing its weapons as it passed. I hadn't even heard over the scream of the people, and then the roar of the jets. But some of the ornamental trees in the street were on fire, there were craters in the cobbles, and some of the crying people were shrieking in pain as well as fear.

The jet, the bird or whatever – and I still don't know how much of that was real, or which parts were hallucinated – was at the far end of the street now, banking around the corner into Chemistry Avenue. I pulled myself together enough to stand, and went to see if I could help any of the injured people. My first aid knowledge was basic, but better than nothing, and I knew my natural charisma would help when surrounded by people panicking. I couldn't call an ambulance, of course, there was no cell signal. They'd probably cut it off before they arrived. So we all just pitched in together, doing what we could to help the people that needed it.