Not So Much Fly, As …

(by Simon Petrie, September 2010)

.

“Thank you for calling the PokkitRokkit Jetpacks technical helpline. Please hold.”

Soothing music, pianissimo against the roaring whistle of terminal-velocity air.

“You have been placed in a queue.”

Control knob, still dead as. Useless.

“Your call is important to us.”

Close enough to see individual cars now, below. They look too small to be real.

“Your call will be answered by the next available operator …”

You’d scream; but the wind, slamming your face, hands, jumpsuit, renders the idea redundant.

“Your call may be monitored for quality control purposes. Please have your twenty-four digit product code ready …”

Another inaudible instrumental. The goggles press painfully. It’ll feel odd to remove them, after. Oh, wait.

“Tech support, thanks for your patience. My name is Stephanie. Now, wh—”

Whump.

*

“Caller still there?” her supervisor asked.

“No, the line just went dead. Again,” replied Steph.

“Huh. Must’ve dropped out.”

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