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ready to test it out -- even though they had no
idea where the planes would land, or which (if
any) nations would refrain from shooting their
passengers on sight, out of the sky, as they
parachuted down.
These details were simply left as an exercise for
the crew, to be (hopefully) worked out, once the
planes were aloft and as the specifics of each
unique situation unfolded.
By the time I returned, however, they'd somehow lost all enthusiasm for their project, and the hundreds of huge, new transports they'd bought, now sat scattered around outside, idle and rusting, all over the campus.
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Rather than just turn them into classrooms and dormitories, I bought a few desks and telephones and intercoms and video monitors and a few fake baggage carrousels (which just kept going round and round with the bogus baggage of people that didn't really exist) and started Alcoholics Anonymous Airways. There'd only be one flight on this airline. Wealthy, powerful people would take it when all their credentials were suddenly erased one day, and they'd lost everything. At the end of the flight, they'd be in a new place, where they'd just have to stand in line, and wait their turn and watch, as vapid con men from the local lower classes aced them out, every time, for even the shittiest shitjobs.
Book: TABLE OF CONTENTS |