Amethyst Experience

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. The spring marvel was one constant amidst the bedlam of life, scudding streaks across the crimson flush and lingering into early hours until dusk upped and melted them gone.

Youth and elders eagerly anticipated the arrival of the clouds. From the safety of the ground, how could they not? It was beautiful when viewed from below. It was safe.

Marcus Draswelle looked out of the window and groaned. To him, summer could not come soon enough.

“What did dispatch say?” He slipped his headset down to sit around his neck, swiveling in his chair to look at the woman behind him.

Delilah Atkinson peeked over her monitor at him. Her dark hair was piled inelegantly atop her head, twisted and clamped together by a straining variety store clip. They were but two hours in and already bags had settled under her eyes. She shook her head. “Overweight. They’ll need to bump three people off.”

The news wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it was entirely unwelcome. The delay would add increased risk. Marcus rubbed his eyes and blew out a breath that fluttered his long, ginger hair. “How many onboard?”

“Seventy.” Yeesh.

Marcus brought up the manifest and scrolled through the names. Flight 3304 was full to the brim.

It had never occurred to AileronAire to suspend service during cloud season. Rather, and against the opinion of other carriers in the province, the air shuttle service had made so far as to add additional routes to its schedule, widely marketing the Amethyst Experience.

A flight of a lifetime! The brochures blazed, coloured purple to match the midnight skies.

A risk of a lifetime, Marcus knew better.

Marcus watched Delilah rise and stretch her palms to the ceiling. As one, they looked to the room’s centre.

AileronAire’s operation centre was a dark room comprised of a number of department divisions, varying from maintenance engineers, to crew schedulers, to season solutions, to operations, to dispatch, to security, each sectioned off to their own desks. A sign bearing each division’s title swung from the ceiling above their head desk.

At times when each was fully staffed the room held up to fifty people at a time.

Cloud season being what it was, every monitor was lit and every seat occupied. All systems were go. A low buzzing of a beehive’s organized chaos thrummed throughout the room.

They could see the shift manager in deep discussion with a crew scheduler at the division head. Parry’s great eyebrows dipped so low they covered much of his beetle black eyes. One hand stroked at his moustache while he exchanged gruff whispers with the timidly bent man before him. He turned to glance toward the season solution specialists mid-sentence and caught Marcus’s eye. He beckoned him over.

“Good luck.” Delilah sank back into her chair and began to click through traveller connections.

Marcus swallowed, pulled his headset off and crisscrossed his way through the office sections to answer. Not wanting to seem completely unpresentable, he yanked the hem of his shirt to release the weaker wrinkles within.

Parry pulled his shoulders back to stand square with Marcus as he approached, and eyed him appraisingly. The man had a tendency to stare as though deeply scanning. Marcus had never felt of much substance for there to be anything interesting to find, and the vacant look Parry came up with now didn’t prove him wrong. “Well, Draswelle?” The manager swept a pen up from his desk and shook it at him. “We going to skip a Changing tonight?”

“That’s the goal, sir.” To refer to him as anything else felt inappropriate. Marcus sank into his collar a fraction as the beetle black eyes narrowed. “That’s the goal.”

“For us, not for them.” Parry shook the pen at the window next and shook his head. “Will be a hell of a night if we don’t. I don’t feel like sitting through a week of aftermath meetings, do you?”

“No, sir.”

“Tell me about 3304.” Parry fell back into his seat and gestured to the massive array of monitors before him. Marcus only understood a small percentage of what was flashing on the man’s screens: Weather reports, connection details, mathematical equations, flight monitoring programs, clocks ticking down the minutes in several different time-zones and on the very bottom left corner of the bottom left monitor, minimized into a window so small you had to catch a flicker to see it, a YouTube video of a crackling fireplace. He ran a hand through thinning hair. “Overweight. Dispatch wants to pull three people for weight distribution.”

“You think Nanaimo will get them off quickly?”

“They’ve been told to prioritize it. They know a diversion means that plane comes back to them if anything happens.”

“Kian says the crew’s chirping already. They know we haven’t got much time and they don’t feel like cleanup. Can’t blame them, but if they pull now, we’ll have to cancel and go through this again tomorrow.” Parry moused over one of the blinking clock faces on his screen and ran a hand over - and through - his eyebrows.

“Get on the horn with Nanaimo and check in. I want a smooth one tonight. It’s Liam and my tenth wedding anniversary tomorrow. Liam will shave my moustache off in my sleep if he hears I’m too bogged down in meetings with lawyers and the ELT to take him out for lunch.”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus’s lip twitched. He returned to his desk in haste, ducking out of the way of a harried crew scheduler. Parry’s husband was a retired traveller service agent from AileronAire who’d turned to the life of a florist after his departure from the aviation industry. Those who’d been around long enough to know about the relationship told that Liam and Parry had lived an enemies to lovers storyline. Marcus didn’t know much more about that.

Back in his seat, he slipped his headset back on and dialed into the airport’s directory. A young woman picked up the phone. “AileronAire Nanaimo, this is Li.”

“Hi Li, Marcus here from seasons solutions. Any update on that traveller removal? We can’t take too much of a delay on this.” He eyed the clock. 3304 was ten minutes past departure time.

“Hi, we’re trying, but they’re putting up a fuss. We’re telling them we can rebook them for tomorrow but the travellers we’re trying to pull are catching a cruise.” She sounded breathy. Marcus could catch the faint sound of props churning in the background. Another aircraft ready to depart. He sighed. “Li, do your best. It’s involuntary, so we’ll compensate.”

“Yeah. We’re trying-” she broke off. With a crackle, the line went to white noise.

Marcus squinted. “Li?”

Her voice returned. “Sorry, starting to rain, didn’t want to get the phone wet. I see three getting off now, we should have the doors closed really soon. I’ve gotta go.”

Starting to rain? Marcus looked out of the window. The heather hued clouds drifting lazily by didn’t indicate any sign of changing weather on his side of the province. “Do whatever you’ve gotta do. Thanks Li, call us after if you need help rebooking.” The line went dead and Marcus stood up to look at Delilah. “How do connections look?” He couldn’t help it. A ripple of dread ran down his spine and chilled his toes.

“Total delay will be around fifteen minutes by the time they’re in the air, it won’t cut into anything too badly. Some connections to Cancun that’ll take a hit, but Calgary will run ‘em or try to hold.” Delilah had put on her blue-light glasses. The giant frames made her resemble a robot. “God willing they make up some time in the air.”

“The captain will be pedal to the metal,” Marcus chuckled at the thought. He checked the lock screen of his cell and was disappointed to find his notification screen empty. No goodnight then. He put his elbows down and rested his chin in his hands, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest.

He reached for his iced coffee, less iced now than it had been when he’d arrived at work, and took a deep drink. It was bitter, enough to wake up him before the caffeine reached his system and followed suit. He checked the status of 3304. It had updated to OUT. The brakes had been released, and they had left the gate. He blew out a sigh of relief and ran a hand through thinning hair. “3304’s out.” He eyed Delilah’s hair. “I’m going to grab some ice.”

His phone rang. He reached for it. At the same time, Delilah’s rang. And then another. And another. Marcus frowned and picked up the line. “Season specialists, Marcus speaking-”

Screams. Crashing. A screech of metal and a thunderous, guttural roar. He broke off abruptly. “Hello? Hello?” He checked the inbound details of the call. It was Nanaimo. “Li? Is that you?”

“Marcus!” He winced. “Marcus, they’re hit!” Li was sobbing, screaming amidst the cacophony around her. “You’ve got to help us, please! It’s a Changing, they were taxiing, barely in the air, the clouds came together and a bolt hit, they’re hit, they’re down, we don’t know what to do, please help! Send help!” She drew in a ragged gasp. “Oh my…”

He heard Delilah swearing behind him. “Li, do not approach the aircraft. The emergency response checklist was already assembling before his mind’s eye. “Call emergency services, we are as well. You have an emergency response procedure, activate it.” Marcus grabbed a phone Call your station manager. Get your team together. Stay calm. Li?” He’d known the numbers already. Number of souls on board. Lock down the manifest. Parry was going to miss his anniversary lunch. No moustache. No goodnight text.

Voices were raising all throughout the centre. Marcus looked up. Parry was on his feet, the biggest voice amongst them, pointing his pen, barking orders, expression inscrutable. Amongst the disarray his eyes met Marcus’s, and the intentional look they exchanged unshackled a surge of adrenaline. The connection broke, and Marcus returned to his call. “Li?”

A Changing. Not his first and not his last. They charted operations out as best they could during cloud season, but one couldn’t avoid the magic forever.

AileronAire’s Amethyst Experience was beautiful when viewed on any normal flight, thousands of feet in the air, but when the unpredictable nature of the springtime phenomenon met with the predictable, anything could happen.

Anything was happening now. Marcus’s fingers flew across his keyboard, following procedure he’d committed to memory long ago, while images flashed through his memory. A lion. A bear. A snake. A monster.

He knew what would happen when those doors were reopened. He knew what would spill out onto the tarmac. Delilah knew it too. He knew her well enough too to know that she’d be more jealous than terrified. The magic had always pulled her more than it pushed. Marcus, like many others, had always restrained his interest in it.

His cell pinged. He didn’t hear it.

Fifteen minutes past midnight the blushing sky began to darken outside the windows of AileronAire’s operations centre, and the violet clouds began to pulse.