time lapse

Sum of poetic prose

A short story on disease, electro magnetic pulse and time travel.

Time sucked up seconds and minutes, hours and days. Months after weeks, years and decades. We had come so far at this gate. Our luggage carried by the porters, our feet went up the steep gangway, goods were hoisted aboard. The horn blew a sound for the last hour before departure. The boarding had begun, I held my ticket and passport readily available.

This wait had been grueling, there hadn't been any announcement beyond the initial one. "All flights have been cancelled," had the voice said. Flights that had boarded had to wait at the gate. Arrivals were disembarked on the platform. Provided the ones that didn't sky in but out. Everyone outside had to wait too. "Until further notice," the voice ended the message. The bloody face mask made it hard to breathe.

The ship departed, went and sunk. I know, I was on it. I had seen the Clippers pass by in the sky.
On the outset of the trip, the captain had said; "this may be the last voyage this ship ever makes." He was right, shortly before we arrived the steam liner company filed bankruptcy. Every single item was seized, including the passengers.

A news bulletin covered the chaos, breaking; "no inbound or outbound flights, all air traffic delayed, postponed or canceled." People were sitting everywhere, laying down, doing some exercises to keep the stiffed up legs going. Buying food. The lines at the cashiers were long, too long for me to stand in line anyway.

'Air traffic has taken out shipping,' said the headline in print. I picked one up from the newsstand on board. "How do you still get these papers?" I asked the lady in charge."By flying boat when we're at sea, or the pilots bring 'm," she replied. I looked at her and asked; "I see, do you know when we will hit the shore?"

I couldn't watch the news, I got sick to my stomach from watching. Now everybody watched, because they wanted to know when they could get to their destination or home. Until further notice nobody was allowed to leave or enter. Until further notice nobody was allowed to fly. They watched how the world went about after thousands and thousands of planes had fallen....

The port of destination name was given over the intercom, I sighed. For relief? or did I sigh for affront? I couldn't tell. I straddled putting my mask back over my nose. Since Philadelphia had fallen ill and dead it was mandatory to wear one. "Coughs and sneezes spread diseases." The war effort had priority over the lives of citizens.

Planes had fallen out of the sky, like lemmings are said to jump from a cliff. The world had been hit
by something everybody was upset about but couldn't explain because we still had the news, we still had our functioning phones. "We're all just junkies for news," mumbled an old man while passing me with his stroller.

Our port of destination questioned the ship's entrance, we were still quarantined at bay. I was still and secluded, I didn't feel talkative to anyone. I just strolled the gang board to get some exercise. I ate all by myself in my hut, where others gathered together like nothing had happened. Their eyes looked at me, in accusation I was the one who was afraid.

"Possibly an electro magnetic pulse hit the earth," echoed a scientist repetitively through the speakers while being interviewed  on the screens with which the gates had been decorated. He couldn't explain why only air traffic had been affected. "Until we know more, we'll be right back," said the anchor to support his livelihood. A commercial for air travel to some tropical destination followed, so much for compassion at the networks.

I wasn't afraid, nor to die, or to live. I wasn't part of the herd which disputed the danger of this unknown illness, nor did I wanna live in fear for this mysterious infliction which had suddenly raised its ugly head, leading to a stream of theories all guesstimating for its origin. On the Iberian peninsula the news of the disease was printed a debut, making up for all the time it had been censored everywhere else.

Fried chicken was entering my nostrils, when I looked if my mobile phone still had battery power.
An odd number showed up at the dateline. Were we all going back in time or did we tilt forward?