We were all watching when the plane crashed into the building.
Not necessarily because we were aeronautical engineers. Left to my own devices? I would have been reading a book or playing a game on my cell phone.
Don’t get me wrong, planes are awesome. I could spend days watching military aircraft. Last summer, I’d forced a several-hour detour into a trip to visit my folks so I could drag my family to the Wright Patterson Air Force Base Museum. Meghan - my wife - kept joking that we didn’t need a tour guide. I may have gone a little overboard, but there are just some amazing planes there, like the only remaining XB-70 in the world. There were two produced, but the second one crashed during a photoshoot, crazy as that sounds. The planes were flying in close formation, and the XB-70’s wake vortex sucked in a smaller plane, causing it to crash into its wing. So, there’s only one: a bomber nearly 200 feet long, one of the biggest planes at the museum.
The kids… had probably been a little young to appreciate everything. Oh well, that just meant we could try again in a few years, and I could tell them all the stories again.
Anyway, military planes fascinate me. I could think about the ridiculousness of the SR-71 for hours. The engineers who made it were brilliant. They intentionally designed the parts of the plane not to fit together well on the ground, but expand to fit together perfectly when heated up by the speed of its own flight. Genius!
What has a passenger plane got that compares to that? They’re good enough, I suppose, but where’s the madness? The drama?
If it was up to me, I’d have been otherwise entertained.
But there were five of us, including John Christiansen. John was a nice guy, but old enough that he still held his cell phone with slight distrust, as if he wasn’t sure what it might do. He was a talker, and by far the highest-status person on this trip. Byron, Davi, and I had come to field the technical questions. Kurtis had come because he was our manager, and because he loved meetings to a seriously unhealthy degree. We hadn’t really needed him, but he’d pulled out some bullshit about “looking serious” to the clients. John? John wasn’t really part of the project at all. He was high-up in our company, senior to Kurtis’s boss, and had come along mostly because of his personal connections with important people in our client’s company. So… if John felt like chatting, all of us were going to stand around with him, awkward or not.
I couldn’t blame John completely. It was Kurtis who’d chivvied everyone out of bed and through breakfast and into our shared rental car far earlier than we’d needed to, just so we could stand around at our gate with more than an hour to go before our flight boarded. An extra hour. In Denver International Airport. Who’d want to spend extra time here? He’d been worried about missing our flight, but… eh, he worried too much.
At least our gate had been on the end of the terminal, so we had a nice view of the planes landing and taking off, not just taxiing. It made for a nice enough backdrop to a nice enough discussion. Our presentation had gone well, and John said one of the higher-ups at our client’s company was impressed enough to let slip that he’d be recommending us as the contractor chosen for phase two of the program.
“That recommendation is as good as gold. Ain’t one of them gonna say boo if Jerry says we’re the right choice,” John chuckled. “He’s been with those guys since before I started working.”
“Nice!” Davi pumped a fist. As a recent college graduate, this was the first big presentation she’d been a part of. “Do you think-”
She cut off mid-sentence, frowning at the gate next to ours. A plane had just turned to park, but it had already moved closer than the aircraft further down the row. Its nose was a bare twenty feet from the window and still ponderously rolling forward.
“That pilot needs to hit the brakes,” she said, tone confused.
The five of us stared, not believing what we were seeing as the plane smashed through the windows. The glass shattered at its touch, and a woman who’d been reading with her back to the windows was hit dead-on and sent flying. The plane hadn’t been moving quickly, but it was massive. It stopped only when it crunched into the concrete of the building amidst a shower of glass and debris.
“Holy shit,” Davi said.
“Language,” John said, but it was an absentminded mutter, not the sharp reprimand it would have usually been. “That poor woman. Medic! Is there a doctor around? This woman needs help!” He jogged forward, waving his arms and trying to grab attention.
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The rest of us followed at a distance. There’d been some young kids waiting to board who’d started screaming and crying at the destruction and blood, and silence quickly gave way to a wall of noise as people tried to make sure that everyone in their group was safe.
“So much for getting home on time,” Kurtis muttered. “I bet they’re gonna cancel our flight. Look, the TVs are off. The plane must have busted an electrical wire.”
“Really? That’s what you’re worried about.” Byron shook his head.
Kurtis rolled his eyes. “I’m not heartless, I’m just saying that-”
He was interrupted by a voice from nowhere.
Congratulations!
Your planet has been selected for the latest round of Maffiyir!
Survive to the end to be granted not only a sponsored citizenship in the Commonwealth, but permanent ownership of all the vast riches you’ve managed to accumulate throughout the game.
In order to level the playing field for all participants, all electronic wiring has been ruined and most combustible materials have been neutralized.
In compensation for this, every sentient resident of this planet is receiving one ability of their choice! The possibilities are near-limitless. Pursuing creative combat options may net you additional attention and rewards, but do know that the impact of such abilities may be more minimal than expected, until properly supported. A list of recommended starting abilities will be provided upon request following this introductory message. Simply state “Interface: Ability Options” to see the list.
The game will continue until the sapients of this planet have claimed at least 30% of the non-liquid surface area, or until only 5% of participants remain. Face the challenges before you to grow in strength and earn rewards. Good luck!
I’d thought it was noisy before, but that was nothing compared to this. People had been scared; now they were panicking. Kurtis had pulled out his phone and was pumping the power button furiously, to no avail. I pulled out mine to double-check, and was only slightly surprised when it didn’t turn on.
In the distance, an airplane that had been coming in to land hit the ground at a slightly incorrect angle. Its wing dragged along the ground, throwing up a shower of sparks and debris before its main cabin hit. Then the whole thing was mercifully hidden in a cloud of fire and smoke.
The sight set off a further round of screams as some people fought to get closer to the windows so they could see what was going on, and others fought to get away, worried about further mishaps.
“What the hell is that?” I heard one person yell. “Is that a raccoon?”
“Oh god, that poor man! It’s attacking him.”
“Monsters! There are monsters out there!”
Well, that explained why we’d need abilities.
Damnit.
There were so many people here.
“Be right back,” I shouted to the group, and set off at a run.
Byron caught up with me. “Where are we going?” he asked.
Tall bastard! Catching up with me easily, and not even too out of breath to talk? Not fair.
Eh, even if he made me feel self-conscious about my own speed, I was glad he had followed. I’d acted on instinct, but I could use a cool head to check my gut reactions. An extra pair of hands wouldn’t hurt, either.
“Convenience store,” I panted, pointing down the terminal. “I saw one this way.”
“Why?”
“Too many people. We have to leave.”
“You sure, man? Going out there seems, uh…”
I waved a hand at him, not willing to waste any more breath on talking.
The store was largely empty when we arrived, just one stressed-looking skinny girl behind the register and two people who’d clearly had the same idea I had. I moved to a display of carry-on luggage and grabbed five backpacks off the rack, shoving two at Byron. “Help me fill these, and I’ll explain.”
Byron looked puzzled, but took the bags and followed me over to a cooler and started shoving in bottled and canned drinks. As I worked, I caught my breath enough to talk.
“Look, Byron, how many people do you figure are in this concourse?”
Where another person might have shrugged and made a wild guess, Byron paused. He wasn’t actually an aeronautical engineer, technically. He’d gotten his masters in pure math with a minor in programming, and he was our go-to guy when the numbers in a model were tricky. He glanced around, thinking.
“Hard to say. Maybe 6,000, give or take.”
Sounded right. “Yeah. And how many days of food do you think this concourse has for those people?”
Another pause. “Oh, shit.”
He walked over to a rack of trail mix and started shoveling it into a bag.