Inverse Butterfly

Still, it was hard to tell if they were the two voices talking, two people talking, or merely two thoughts that, upon contact, thought the other thought up. That is, it is hard for us, the objective audience and omnipotent author to tell the difference. It is probably not too difficult for the voices, thoughts, or people to tell which is whom. The all dislike the other, and claim victory for themselves.

It was such a brief conversation that both Tadd and Rob were to forget that they had it almost immediately before boarding the airplane. Tadd and Rob did not sit in the same sections of the plane. Tadd sat within the passenger section, and Rob got into the cockpit.

Privately, alone in the cockpit, Rob opened the eyes in the back of his head. He put his hands on his lap. "I have arrived," he proclaimed to himself, his skin softly reflecting the illuminated technology surrounding him, bathing him lightly with kisses of reassuring red, green, and amber. Rob finally felt at home. He closed the shades of the cockpit, sheathing himself in a twilit chrysalis spin in silicon, plastic, and LEDs.

"This is your captain," intoned Rob.

"I am proud to pilot you this evening," he explained.

"I am proud to see how you all," he paused, "have grown."

"I am proud of our airlines," he obliged. "I am proud of what human hands have made."

"Give us this day our daily bread. Give us a break in our daily bread. Give us this day. Give us yesterday again."

Rob plugged himself into the airplane.

"This is your captain. Say hello to your captain," invited Rob. "Say hello."

I know how this one ends, he thought from the air. I knew it all along.

We all gotta grow up someday.

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