All the Way Down

“And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.”

William Blake

What the hell I’m doing, he thought, as the engine slowed down to a quieter pace. A crammed silence filled his ears. His breath froze, an icy vapor of fear and pleasure filled his air. Instructor Doug opened the door. Panic! That’s what it is, then. He close his eyes, the wind whirling frantic at his face. The plane glided softly .

He checked his equipment twice. No matter what, he was not going to die on a day like today.

Why not? Said a voice on the bottom of his head. The freaking thought of being buried on the same day he met again his best friend Michael. Course instructor. Did you ever imagine?

“You’re not going to let me go, mate?” He said.

Mike smiled. “Did I ever try?”

He beamed.

“Mike!”

“Yes?”

“You’re really know how to do that?”

“I’m the best.”

“You joking? You couldn’t tie the lace of your knickers when you’re eleven!”

“Check-in. Check-out.” Instructor Doug said.

“But…”

“Stop it, kid! I’ve done it like thousand time!” Mike said. Then grabbed his leg and jumped away.

What the…!

One thousand, Two thousand, Three thousand, Four thousand. Arch.

He rose his eyes, a whisky sky surrounding his sight. A frosty wind on his face. Mike on his right. Doug on his left.

He would never get used to that. Never ever again! The world whirling around him, earth and sky as a your sweated gym suite in a thumbing dryer.

Both instructors grabbing his flanks. As a kid on his bike on the first summer’s day.

Mike had fixed his backpack and had stripped off the seal. He had patted his shoulder and had smiled promptly.

“Ready, mate?”

“Yep.”

“Small briefing.”

“Ok.”

“What if the pilot call ‘Brace! Brace!’?”

“Safety position, ready to leave the plane.”

“What if you deploy and there’s only the blue sky up there?”

“Malfunction. I release the primary and go for the back-up.”

“How will you do that?” Mike had said.

He had smiled. “I won’t. No malfunction, please, today.”

Mike had smiled back. “Ok. Let’s check the basic, now…”

“Mike…”

“Yes?”

He had turned his eyes away. “Remember when… well, you know. That’s stupid affair when we were kids… I mean, that’s childish thing with your old girlfriend…”

“It’s all water under the bridge, mate!” Mike had laughed,slapping his arm.

“Yep.” He had smiled. “How old were we? Eleven? Twelve?”

“Twelve.”

“Yep, twelve. We didn’t even know what to do with a girl, uh?”

“Yep!” Mike had said.

“Well.” He had replayed. “You told me… Stupid as we were… you told me: ‘I gonna kill you soon or later…’”

Both had chuckled. “How stupid and infantile we were, weren’t we?”

 “Yep.”

“Fighting so hard for such a worthless girl.”

“Yep!”

They had laughed again, unaffectedly, as it was just yesterday the last time they met.

“Fancy that!” He had said. “I completely removed her from my mind until today. Don’t even remember her name!”

“Kate.” Mike had said.

“Oh… well,” He had paused. “Yes. Kate… well… Mike?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not about to tamper my parachute today, won’t you?”

Mike had laughed. “What stupid of you? You never changed!”

He had laughed back. “You too, mate!”

“Well, go back to the briefing. What if…”

“Mike…” He had said. Suddenly, looking in Mike’s eyes. Straight.

“Yes?”

“What it feels like? I mean. For real. Not just this fake simulation.”

Mike had looked at him in his poker-face.

“At 12,000 feet you don’t want to look down.” Mike had said. “You ask yourself: ‘what the hell I’m doing’. And that’s the only thing that make sense. The whole universe it’s upside-down. North and South, Sky and earth. You swear on your head: it’s the last time. And try to make it clear: it it’s final. Period!

“At 10,000 you start to relax, feel the air on your face, look the sky melting with the earth. An horizon so curved you may think someone up there has shaped the world as a boiled egg. Which is what you’re going to be, in fact, if the canopy won’t open.

“Which is something that cross your head at 8,000.

“At 6,000 you start to consider the idea to deploy. Great idea. But what if it doesn’t?

“Well it’s 5,000 going to 4,000. You know you can’t think about it. Grab your handle, pull, arch, relax, enjoy the sight from above.”

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

He looked the altimeter. 3,000. Malfunction. Look, locate, pull-down, deploy. Nothing.

He turned his head, started to scramble, his limbs whisking the air. Trying to cream the clouds, honey?

What the… twothousands! Less, nineteenhundreds!

Jeezzz…

The ground closing up.

“Mike!” He shouted. “Mike!”

He looked above.

“Mike!” An orange canopy floating in the air. Safe and sound!

Where’s mine! He claimed.

Altimeter. Check! Uselessly. ONETHOUSAND!

Less.

Going down.

Fast.

Hopeless.

Bang!

Period.