Around sixty years ago, citizens of The Republic of Vistland began acquiring ‘enhanced abilities’. They were categorised into four sorts: altering the mind, altering inanimate objects, controlling sentient objects, and most rarely, slowing time itself. Neither country nor corporation, in or out of Vistland, has ever taken responsibility for it.
The government has taken steps to research the origin and effect of these abilities, but despite hundreds of theories, no clear answer has ever been found.
But that is NOT the purpose of our story.
The prologue is also the introduction
Part 1
“Ladies and gentlemen, as you will see, the ‘Fasten Seat Belt’ sign has been put on. Please sit down, if you have not already done so, and buckle in, until the light goes off. Ensure your seat is in the upright position, and your lap trays are not extended. If you are seated next to an emergency exit, please read carefully the special instructions card located by your seat.
“During flight, do not attempt to use any enhanced abilities, regardless of form, as they can disrupt communications. We also remind you that this is a non-smoking flight. Smoking is prohibited on the entire aircraft, including the lavatories.
“If you have any questions about our flight today, please don’t hesitate to ask one of our flight attendants. Thank you.”
The automated voice clicked off, and the pilot came back on. “Flight 677, we are leaving at twelve o’ clock, on the dot. Just another example of our airline’s efficiency! Please enjoy your travel.”
Mads squeezed his eyes closed. It wasn’t so much the flight that frightened him as the knowledge that he may never see his old home again. He gripped the necklace Elaine had given him. He may have promised to come back to her, but what good was the promise if he couldn’t keep it?
There was an old man in a checked shirt, mumbling to his long-suffering wife, who, presently, called over an air hostess. “Could you turn off this fan? It’s blowing on his chest, you know, and since his last operation, that’s really an issue.”
The hostess obliged, and returned to the front, where a different hostess told her how to turn it off, and she returned to do so. Odd, really, that this hostess didn’t know how, but perhaps she had never flown on this sort of plane before.
A well-dressed man in a navy blue suit twitched nervously, checking his watch, and patting his fingers. He checked his teeth in a mirror, and eventually just asked for a glass of water.
A skinny brunette in an over-sized hoodie scrolled through texts on a group chat.
In one corner, a mother embarrassedly hushed her child, who looked to be about four, and desperately tried to talk him through yawning to pop his ears.
Mads saw nothing of great interest, so tugged out his phone. No data reception. There was in-plane wifi, but he wasn’t willing to pay that much money, even if he had it. He already missed his friends. His father’s old chief in the police force, Eddy, had sent him more brochures than he knew existed, in some hopeful attempt to excite him over the future.
But Taroton was so different. “Visit the Rosewood Coffee Shop for our signature poppyseed late, with optional almond milk, made in house!” read the one. No hikes, no farmers’ markets. Instead, there was go-karting in massive malls. It wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t home. Well, at least there was still airsoft.
The old couple both went to the bathroom, and were so apologetic about it.
Time felt so slow, he wondered if he had mistakenly slowed it, but no, it continued, as per usual.
The brunette went to the toilet at the front of the plane. She walked like a ballet dancer.
Mad was supposed to watch some summaries he had downloaded on his upcoming switch to biology class for school, but he really didn’t want to. Not right now.
A buff young man sauntered to one of the flight attendants, where he seemed to try a pickup line. For all his smirk and style, the attendant shook her head, and he left deflated. There were few moments Mads was glad to not be built like him, but seeing how he struggled to fit into his seat definitely counted as one.
It was just on 1:00 pm now, and the well-dressed man rose, passing to the back-most lavatory. He smelled, at that time, of nice cologne. Soon, there was an airhostess there, knocking on the door. An argument ensued, though Mads couldn’t tell what it was about, and the co-pilot was called to the back lavatory to settle it properly. The well-dressed man stormed back to his seat. Now, he smelled of cigarettes.
An airhostess brought down drinks, probably to calm everyone. It was so late in the flight; Mads couldn’t see why else they would do so just then. The smart-dressed man bought another water, and drank it eagerly.
Mads waved her over.
“Hello, young man. Can I get you some hot chocolate?”
“Uhm, no thank you,” Mads whispered. “I just thought I’d tell you that your plaster is coming off.”
She hurriedly reattached it in a fluster. “Sorry. Thank you.”
“No problem.” It might have been a bruise of sorts she was hiding, or perhaps a birthmark, but whatever it was, he couldn’t imagine she’d be happy having it exposed.
The old couple bought some tea. Then they had to go to the toilet again.
12:00 – flight leaves 1:30 – flight lands
A voice clicked onto the sound system. “Flight 677, we are landing at one-thirty, on the dot. Just another example of our airline’s efficiency! I hope you enjoyed your travel.”
“You must be Mathias?”
It was like looking at his father, alive and well. The same hight, the same stature, the same hands, the same voice. At last, he forced out a reply. “It’s… uh… It’s just Mads, actually.”
“Isn’t Mads short for Matthias?”
“No,” Mads shook his head. “Well, yes, it is, actually, technically, but that’s not… Mads is actually what my name is, like, on my birth certificate.”
“Okay, then. Was your flight alright?” After a moment, he moved on. “I’m glad we can finally meet again. I just wish it could be under better circumstances. But…”
“Circumstances get better when family’s around?”
“Exactly.”
“Dad used to say it all the time.”
“He was right. Well, I’m Uncle Oliver, but you can just call me Uncle. Okay?” he extended his hand, first for a hug, and then for a handshake. Mads found he could reply with neither.
“Come on. I’ll take you home.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you.”
Uncle Oliver led him to a Toyota Fortuna, opening the boot, and shifting what was already in there –a reflective jacket, a medical kit, and a smarter jacket with an ID card pinned to it – all to one side, so that Mads could put his bags in.
Climbing in the front seat, Mads felt it only right to find some casual conversation to make, even if he could say little else.Uncle Oliver’s keys had a little pendant of a Jeep, reading ‘Off-Roaders Unite’.
“So, do you travel for work, or just fun?”
“How did you know I travel?”
“You milage is high, and your keys have an off-roading pendant.”
“I might have just done off-roading in the area.”
“There are no off-roading routes in the area. Just a training centre twenty minutes’ drive from town.”
“You’re just like your father,” Uncle Oliver laughed. “I travel for work and for fun. And you? Did you ever travel with your father?”
“He never really left town. But I guess I got to go on forest patrol with him sometimes.”
“No wonder you want to be a detective.”
“I am a detective,” Mads defended. “Not a fully-fledged one, but at least a training one.”
“Hold your horses, there. You’re not ready to be out into the big wide just yet. You have school to do, and friends to make, and a brother and sister to meet.”
“Brother and sister…” Mads trailed off.
“Sorry. It’s a knee jerk reaction. I’ve always called family brothers and sisters.”
“So did Dad.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not easy for you, losing two parents so close together.”
“It’s okay. You’re not the culprit.”
A security guard stopped the car just then, coming to the window. “Sorry to bother, but were either of you on flight 677?”
“I was,” Mads replied.
“We’re going to need you to come back in. No one’s in trouble, we just want to talk to you.”
“I know I didn’t forget anything,” Mads replied uneasily.
“Just come to the office, please.”
Agent Levi 090 8091 3244
Uncle Oliver held his shoulder. “It’s probably nothing. We’ll be out in no time.”
Perhaps he didn’t want Mads to pick up the anxiousness from the other passengers waiting to be interviewed, or perhaps he just wanted to make small-talk, but either way, Uncle Oliver started a new conversation.
“Are you looking forward to making new friends at school?”
Mads met him with silence for a bit. He knew all too well Uncle Oliver was taking strain, too. Mourning the death of a brother, suddenly responsible for a third child, a fifth person to support, a third school fee to pay, and yet, he was making an effort to bring cheer back into Mads’s world. “It’s hard to think about ‘new beginnings’ while I know my father’s killer is walking free.”
Perhaps not the cheery conversation starter Mads had wished he could give, but he just didn’t know how to lie about it.
“So, you’re really convinced he was murdered?”
“The police may not believe me, but I sure as heck won’t believe that bull.”
“Watch your language.”
“I technically just referenced an animal. You were the one who added a swear.”
More silence. “To tell the truth, I’ve done dome digging myself, and I’m not convinced, either.”
“Really? So, you believe me?”
“I don’t know that I do believe you, but I know I don’t believe the official version, and I know it would be a mistake to dismiss you off-hand.”
An officer arrived, and signalled to them to come. “We’re ready to talk to you two now.” He led them to an interview room, where they were sat before a smartly dressed security official.
“Afternoon. I’m Agent Levi. Could you state your names, and give us your boarding details?”
“Mads Leighton. Seat 24 C. Isle seat near the centre of the plane.”
“And you were?”
Uncle Oliver shook his head. “I wasn’t on the flight, but I’m his legal guardian.”
“Fair enough. You’re not his father, then?”
“Uncle and godfather. He’s coming to live with me.”
“My father was a saint,” Mads clarified quickly hoping to prevent any misunderstandings. “He was recently killed in the line of duty, though.”
“I see.”
Uncle Oliver took control of the conversation. “Can we ask what this is about?”
“I can’t disclose details. I’m sorry. Now, then, Mads Leighton, did you see or hear anything suspicious on the flight?”
Mads paused. “Suspicious is a very general term. No one actively set off alarm bells, but I suppose I could still help you narrow down suspects, if you tell me what you’re looking for.”
“Narrow down suspects?”
“Well, I mean, if you found left-behind stowed luggage, you’re looking for someone who boarded with a bag, but left without one. But if someone stole something, they must’ve gotten up to get near it. I didn’t see all the movement, but I can probably identify most of the people who got up.”
“You’re a sharp one, aren’t ‘cha? Alright. Someone who shouldn’t have gone to the cockpit went to the cockpit. We need to work out who.”
Uncle Oliver’s eyebrows lifted. “And the pilot didn’t see?”
“No. The pilot… wouldn’t have seen.”
“So, pilot was attacked? How come the co-pilot didn’t see?”
“Sir,” the official calmed, “the plane was on auto-pilot at the time, so there was no risk to the passengers, and the co-pilot returned in time to land the plane, so all was well. We just need to identify the person who entered the cockpit.”
Mads pursed his lips tightly. “Was that when the co-pilot went to the person in the back lavatory, who had started smoking, and didn’t stop? At around 1:00 pm?”
“That’s exactly right.”
“Then, I should probably mention that I don’t think he was actually a smoker.”
“I would love to know how you came to that interesting conclusion. Another passenger confirmed he jittered, like a smoker might.”
“His teeth were pearly white, and he seemed to take pride in it. He didn’t carry mints, nor did he attempt to take one afterwards. He smelt like expensive cologne when he went in, not like smoke, but he didn’t reapply after his smoke, so it wasn’t applied to cover a bad habit. He coughed after the smoke, but not before. Like he wasn’t used to it. He bought water to drink afterwards, too, even though he’d drunk water at the start of the flight.”
“It may have just been his first cigarette that day.”
“Flight left at 12:00. Landed at 1:30. Incident occurred at around 1:00. Why, if you have the self-control to not smoke for six whole hours, would you suddenly struggle on the plane? Why not smoke before, or after?”
The investigator seemed uneased by being shown up, and Uncle Oliver stepped in to save him. “Very good questions, but please leave the police work up to the police.”
“You should look nearer the front of the plane than the back, though,” Mads pressed. “The assailant would need an excuse to go up, probably the front bathroom, but walking all the way to the front from the back is a hel… eck. It’s a heck of a stretch.”
“So, you didn’t see them?” Uncle Oliver redirected him.
“No, no, now hold on. Let me think. Executive class only had five people. Two gentlemen, and three ladies. The ballet dancer got up once, but too early. The old couple got up twice. Once before, and once after. One man to the right and back of me went up… But he was in view the whole time, and he hurried back to his seat as fast as he could after he was rejected.”
“So, no one?” the investigator smirked.
Mads sighed. “Well, no. No one.”
“Well, thank you all the same,” he nodded. “Can we have a number to contact you if we have more questions?”
“Rather take mine,” Uncle Oliver offered, writing down his cell.
“You can take both of ours,” Mads smiled, writing his down too, and labelling it. “Can we have a number to contact you, if we remember anything?”
He pulled a card out from his pocket. “Agent Levi. Right there.”