New World Disorder

Chapter Three

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Pope was flying without the benefit of a helicopter, airplane, or any other machine. He was soaring through the night sky propelled by sheer force of will. And it was amazing!

When he had awoken from his aerial combat dream, he had found himself pressed against the ceiling of his room with what felt like several G's of pressure. When Pope realized his situation, he gasped in surprise then started falling. But not towards the bed. Instead he was falling horizontally toward his open window. He fell through window before he could start screaming. He plunged towards the building across the street.

This is going to hurt, Pope thought as he neared the concrete tower. Just as he was about to crash into the building's façade, gravity seemed to take a left turn and he found himself falling over Central Park West, plunging in an arching parabola towards Turtle Pond. He landed in the chilly water with an enormous splash. As he looked at his apartment twenty-three stories up and several blocks away, he sat on the edge of the water and wondered What the hell just happened? And why am I not dead?

Was I falling? Sideways? Or was I ... flying? He pondered for several minutes then decided. I've got to try and see If I can do that again.

Pope reached his awareness out to feel the weight of Oran's body, the pull of the Earth. Then he tried to remember what it was like when the pull reversed in his bedroom. He tried to feel the attraction coming from the sky above. And just like that he was falling upwards.

The pull increased. Pope was accelerating upwards, building speed. In seconds he was higher than the tallest sky scrapers and approaching the low hanging clouds. He noticed Oran's body seemed to be surrounded by a visible energy nimbus. He tried varying the direction of the gravitational pull and found he could move in any direction he wanted. He flew through the clouds, using his enhanced vision to ensure he was in no danger of colliding with a hidden plane or other obstacle.

Once he was above the clouds, under the bright light of the crescent moon and stars he let out a shout of pure joy. At that burst of emotion, the nimbus surrounding him flared outwards into a brilliant corona of radiance that illuminated the tops of the clouds of miles.

Pope hung still in the night sky, panting, He looked down, easily seeing though the thick clouds and dark night. He saw the metropolitan area laid out below and used his years of experience flying both rotary and fixed wing aircraft to estimate his altitude as somewhere between 30,000 and 50,000 feet. While aware of the frigid temperature of the air around him, he was not uncomfortable. Nor was he noticing any effect from the reduced air pressure. I guess this is what Superman feels like ... Up, up, and away?

Looking down, Pope realized two things. All he was wearing was Oran's sleep shorts, and they were icing up after being soaked in the pond. He also saw that the exposed skin on Oran's chest, arms, and legs all seemed to have changed from a dusky golden tone to a blue so dark it was almost as black as the night sky above him. Is this an artifact of the low lighting and my adjusted vision? The energy field surrounding me? Or did I really change colors?

After an hour or so of flying, Pope was confident in his ability. He even practiced several touch and go landings in the Long Island Sound, well away from any possible observers. He found that he was both faster and more maneuverable than any aircraft he had ever flown. Finally, he decided he needed to get back to the apartment, lest Mariela discover him gone and worry needlessly. He flew high above the city and slowly lowered himself towards the penthouse. He had found that the fast he flew, the brighter, and likely more visible, his nimbus became. He did not want to attract any attention to himself or his apartment if he could avoid it.