Must be Great

Must be great to be able to fly, people tell me all the time.

I guess. I mean, I’ve been able to fly ever since I can remember, so I don’t know what anything else is like. I was pretty much able to fly since I could walk.

Doesn’t mean I wear tights like some people. I’m no weirdo. Besides, it’s not like I’m in incredible shape or have a burning need to avenge some injustice. I’m just a regular guy, trying to make a living.

So I’m flying to work. I’m no speedster, it’s basically a little faster than a fast run, so it takes me about twenty minutes to get to work. I’m flying to work and there’s all kinds of other flyers around, rich kids with anti-grav belts, magicians’ kids with seven-league Nikes, old guys on ornithopters and rich yuppies in flying cars. It’s a bit of a skyjam on the Southside Express Airway, so I’m a little late.

The boss yells at me for a couple of minutes, then he gives me my first package. Other side of town, great. I grab the package - some sort of medical supplies or something, there’s a biohazard stamp on the side - and take off.

About halfway there something... weird... happens.

I fall.

Okay, so I fall about fifteen feet, but it’s enough to scare the crap out of me. You gotta understand, I’ve never fallen, ever. When I trip, my power kicks in and I wind up hanging there in mid-trip, looking ridiculous.

So I fall about fifteen feet, enough to get me out of traffic, hanging there in mid-air, clenching my butt cheeks to keep from crapping my pants, waiting for my heart to stop jackhammering in my chest, and to start breathing normally again.

At least I don’t drop the package. It’s a little late, but better late than street pizza.

I call in and get a couple other deliveries, and wind up delivering them no problem. But that first one gave me the shakes, and I go home early. Stay home that evening, take it easy.

I wake up screaming only once. The bed is drenched in sweat, so I change the sheets, and go back to sleep.

Next morning, I get up like I normally do, have breakfast like I normally do. I go to the window. Open it up. I even get one foot on the windowsill.

The elevator smells like urine. I never noticed that before.

So I’m on the sidewalk and decide to give it a shot. No problem. The old, Up up and away, like they say. I’m fine for a few blocks.

The ground is really, really hard. The doctor says I only sprained my wrist in the fall, but it feels broken to me. Anyhow, I call in sick that day.

And the next.

After a week, I call in and quit.

Must be great to fly, people used to tell me.

Yeah, it was. And I never noticed.