Macrocosm Airlines

“Welcome to Macrocosm Airlines and be ready to fly the universe!” The eye-catching slogan of the newest airlines. There was a drawing for their grand opening celebration, and I was lucky to win a free flight to a destination of my choice. Now, 300 meters in the air, I am enjoying the perks of the airlines in a small aircraft. I turn to my window seat-mate, excitement bursting from my eyes.

“This is great! I cannot believe how smooth the flight is so far,” I disclose, like a child on their first flight.

The man turns towards me, equally happy about the flight. “Tell me about it. The legroom is remarkable. I can’t believe we are sitting in economy with enough legroom to stretch out and enjoy.”

“Unlike any other airline I have ever flown,” I contribute.

It was true. The legroom would definitely be a competitive reason to switch airlines. There were fewer seats added to provide legroom for economy passengers, eliminating the business class section. Additionally, the seats made my bottom feel like royalty. Most airlines save well cushioned seats for first class passengers, but everyone in the cabin felt like we were riding in first class. I throw my gaze down the aisle towards the front and observe the curtain separating first class from economy. The plane did have many vacant seats, carrying approximately fifty passengers for the flight. It did seem to have the maximum capacity one hundred people.

As we reach the three hundred meter mark, two flight attendants appear and begin to serve refreshments. When the flight attendant servicing my side reaches my seat, I smile and request a coke.

“There is only water for this flight,” he responds with a smile, placing his hand on a bottle and readying to pour. I resign to water, perplex why the airline would not have much more of a variety, especially for a flight from Minnesota to Hawaii. I opt not to complain about it because I had won a free flight, but my seat-mate had a different mindset.

“Sheesh,” he started, “you’d think with all of this legroom, they could afford a better choice of drinks. Water? Really?” The complaint whipped out of him, but only within my earshot.

“Yeah, I know. I was just thinking the same thing. Do you think it might be to keep us comfortable in the cabin?” He shrugs.

Just as I shared, a wave of murmurs floods the cabin. Clearly, we are not the only ones dissatisfied with water being the only beverage on the flight. I turn to observe the interactions, curious to see how the service providers are holding out against the growing mob of anger. Surprisingly, each crew member is maintaining their composure, as if they had expected the reaction. Strangely, neither of them takes the time to explain the rationale of serving water or share sympathy with the passengers.

Once the last cup has been poured and served, they vanish behind the thick veil to first class. I assume it is to service them as well, guessing the first class passengers must have a better choice of drinks. I pull out a book to read to ease my mind. A few pages into my book, the whispered complaint of the male traveler behind me catches my attention.

“What you mean, there is no window?” He has a heavy Japanese accent, astonishment bleeds through.

“Datte, mite yo” a female counters, a subtle hint of fear sprinkled within the line. I assume she wants him to check for himself.

I peek over my shoulder and watch as he reaches over to the window to confirm. The indentation for a window exists, including the sliding dust cover. He attempts to lift the dust cover, but struggles as it refuses to move. I glance at the window pane in my row, wondering if it is stuck or unable to move like theirs.

“Excuse me,” I turn to disturb my seat-mate, who returns a confirming glance, already aware of the couple's dilemma. “Would you mind?”

He reaches out for the lever and tries to raise the dust cover. Similar to the one behind us, it remains stationary. After several more attempts, we came to the same conclusion: it does not open.

“A plane without windows?” Confusion becomes a bold statement on my face.

“I don’t get it,” he adds. “First, only water, and now we can’t even look outside the plane? What kind of flight is this?” He restrains himself from shouting.

“I know I should not complain. After all, they are a new company and I won a free trip, but…” I begin.

“Free trip?” He says. “Wow, me too! Is this your first time going to Paris?”

Paris? The word runs through me like an electric current, gripping at every fear cell and rejuvenating them. Am I on the wrong flight? How can that even be? It’s a new airline with only one gate. The argument inundates my mind and I start thinking back to when I was at the airport. Like many frequent flyers, I failed to confirm my flight with the board at the gate. I simply took it for granted I was at the right gate, boarding the flight to Hawaii.

“Paris?” I finally spit out in the form of a whisper. “Are you sure this isn’t a flight to Hawaii?” Hoping he was the one who had erroneously boarded.

His turn to be wrapped in puzzlement. “Hawaii?” His voice louder than mine was. “Listen, I’m sure you’re on the wrong flight.” He reaches for his phone and opens up to his electronic boarding pass. “See.”

I read over the boarding pass. It had a circular planet with a ring around it for the logo, followed by:

Macrocosm Airlines. Flight MC11.

MSP to CDG.

Boarding: 12:21.

Passenger: John Matthews.

Without hesitation, I pull out my phone and double-check the information:

Macrocosm Airlines. Flight MC11.

MSP to HON.

Boarding: 12:21.

Passenger: Kathryn Jackson.

How can we have the same flight to two different destinations?

“There has to be a computer error somewhere,” I mutter. I decide to confirm with one of the crew members and scan the aisles, hoping to spot someone. The aisles are clear and with no signs of the crew. With my anxiety on high alert, I spin around to the couple behind me.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but where are you flying to?”

The couple become more gripped with worry and surrender their phones to display their boarding pass. The information is the same, but the destination clearly shows NRT. How can one plane make several stops during one flight?

People begin to overhear our conversation, and whispers of different destinations rise from the seats. I begin hearing various destination locations: Thailand, London, Bahamas and other airports that are not on the same flight route or in complete opposite locations globally. The plane’s atmosphere becomes heavy with a turbid cloud of terror.

The panic continues to gradually build, eventually summoning the flight attendants out from the first class curtain. They proceed slowly down the aisles, each side with a gray cart being pushed in front of them. Oddly, they both carry the same smile they had when they served the water. Each stops simultaneously at the first row of passengers.

A middle-aged man on my side of the plane is the first to confront our hosts. “Excuse me, but can you tell us where the plane is flying to? There seems to be a lot of confusion,”

The flight attendant casts a glassy gaze at the man. “Here is your in-flight meal,” handing him a tray with a small bowl on top.

The unsatisfied man tries again to inquire about the flight’s destination, but the flight attendant moves forward with the gray cart, thoroughly ignoring him and his question. He stops next to me and reaches into the gray bin.

“You’re not going to answer the question?” I immediately shoot out, anger gradually heating up inside me.

“The plane’s destination is located on your boarding pass, please refer to it,” he replies mechanically, still wearing the smile. “Here is your in-flight meal.” Handing me a similar tray as the row before us.

I reach and accept the tray. “Our boarding passes all same different destinations. How is that possible?”

“Your inquiry has been noted. Please enjoy your meal,” he grins and walks away. As he moves on, I am struck by the oddity of his speech. It seemed almost computer-like. I glance down at my tray to see what meal has been prepared. My heart drops. Staring back at me is a bowl of colorless mush with a spoon sticking out. I lift a spoonful of the goop and discover it is odorless. If it lacks smell, it must also lack taste, I worry.

The couple behind me whispers with concern tied to each word. “What is this?”

“Oatmeal?” John murmurs. He twists his neck in my direction. “First water, now oatmeal?” What kind of flight is this? What is going on? We need answers quick.” I nod in agreement.

“For right now, we wait. Once the crew returns behind the curtain, we’ll see if we can come up with a plan.” I whisper back, hoping to keep our conversation between us and away from the flight attendant's ears.

Several minutes and a cabin full of disgruntle passengers later, the opportunity to hold an open forum arrives. I jump out of my seat and move toward the center of the cabin. “Excuse me, everyone. Sorry to interrupt your flight, but we need to talk.” I announce. Every pair of eyes falls on me instantly.

“As I am sure you are all aware of, there seems to be something quite odd about this flight. First, the refreshments have not met any of our expectations. And don’t get me started on the meal.” There are multiple nods of agreement and verbal confirmation.

“Interestingly enough, no one seems to have a clear understanding exactly where the plane is flying to. I have checked a couple of boarding passes and each one holds a different destination.” The sharing of this information is met with a wave of expected worry.

“We have tried to speak to the flight attendants about this with no avail. Even their behavior is weird.”

A tall, muscular man stands up in the back of the plane. “What is up with them there attendants?” His Southern accent hangs heavy on each syllable. “I reckon they seem more like some robot than human.” The others shout in agreement.

He had a point. I think back to my initial thought during the in-flight meal serving. The oddity of speech. The smile. It was as if…

“Programmed!” My head shots up, reaching an eerie conclusion. “It seems like they were programmed to answer specific questions when asked.”

“Yeah, like an automated system,” another confirms with the exact words I was looking for. Everyone quickly realizes my point simultaneously. Hysteria bubbles throughout the cabin. The calmer passengers do their best to restrain panic-stricken ones from acting on their emotion.

It started to make sense. The reason the airline could afford to provide so much legroom for all the economy passengers, they were using androids to manage in-flight services. The amount of money they would save on personnel alone would be enough to provide space. Maybe the human flight attendants were reserved for the first class passengers? I had an idea, but I needed to make sure everyone would remain civil.

I called for order. Voices settled and silence restored itself. “I know we are all scared, but we need to keep our cool to figure our way out. This is an unusual situation, and we must confront the crew, preferably a human one, and determine what is actually going on here. Once we have some answers, we can determine our next steps.” I felt empowered; envisioning myself like the protagonist of my favorite British science fiction television show. It was essential to keep everyone’s spirits up and return us home safely.

“Just how are we going to talk to the crew? They’re never around unless they want to feed us or give us a ‘refreshment?’” A blond woman with ruined mascara states, fear breaking her down to tears.

“Simple, we know they retreat through the curtains towards the first class passengers. If I could have a few courageous people accompany me, maybe we can have a chat with them and see what the true itinerary is.” I keep my voice positive and upbeat, concealing the possible threat it could bring everyone if we are wrong.

As expected, multiple hands and voices answered my call for help, producing a total of eight people. Six men and two women (including myself). We huddle and discuss the plan to form two groups and enter past the curtains; one on the right and the other on the left, with four in each group. We are hoping to block both sides of the plane, making it impossible for anyone to run past us. Each group sets up with three men and one woman. The goal is to surround them and force them to the center seats for a small Q and A.

As we embark on our self-made mission, I look back at the remaining passengers and cast a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, everything will be alright,” mimicking what I have heard hundreds of times from the British television show. “You’ll all be back home drinking tea soon. I promise.”

I nod to the other team, the signal to invade. They confirm their readiness, and we march pass the surprisingly thick cloth hanging from the top of the ceiling of the plane into complete darkness. Once the curtains fall back into place, any light emitting from behind us is absorbed instantly. I start feeling my way forward, linking arms with John, who has decided to assist me. We form a human chain and make our way forward. It occurs to me that we are the only humans in the cabin.

“Where are the first class passengers?” I hear someone mutter on the other side of the plane, followed by someone silencing the speaker, reinforcing the importance of maintaining our stealth.

We continue moving forward, with no visual signs of the flight attendants. My free hand strikes chair after chair leading towards the control cabin. As we approach our sixth row away from economy, my hand touches a recognizable cloth. It’s another curtain, drawn, concealing the next section of the plane. I draw it open, and two luminescent eyes are staring back at me. A scream races up my throat just as the floor below us gives way to a metallic slide. We tumble for half a second onto a concrete floor, still wrapped in darkness. A deafening explosion erupts from the ceiling above us, as if the mechanical components are detaching, similar to rocket ships. While fear anchors in my stomach, it dawns on me our descent was a one-way trip.

Blinding light surrounds us, stealing my time to ponder deeply on our predicament. I blink rapidly, forcing my eyes to adjust. I see John next to me, bruised and rubbing his arms. The other two men rubbing other appendages as well.

We are in a spacious area equipped with a sofa, table, chairs, and other furniture for comfort. The second team stands approximately twenty meters away with similar furnishings. One of the men from my group runs towards them, only to crash into a translucent wall and fall backwards on his buttocks. I scan the area, deciphering where we could possibly be in terms of the aircraft. The vast area stretches beyond the airplane limitations. Instead of distinct walls, there are areas that are shaped into a ‘room.’ Each room is equipped with unique furniture designs and comfort to accommodate other intergalactic creatures. Most are vacant, while residing in the occupied ones are lifeforms I have never seen before. Thanks to basic biology, I am able to determine they are different species, perhaps from other planets beyond our solar system. Each area had multiple specimen, almost as if we were in…

“A zoo?” John, coming to the same conclusion as me. “Are we in some sort of Space Zoo?”

Just as he makes the statement, a sign flashes behind us:

MC 11

100 specimens from the Sol System,

Amanogawa

11 sphere from star.

`The roman letters transform into squiggly lines and become incomprehensible. It was an informational sign for patrons to know where we came from. Another man looks up and recognizes the numbers.

“Binary code,” he shares. “100 is for 4 specimens, while 11 means three. Why three?”

I close my eyes in thought. “The third planet from the sun. We were meant to be captured to become an attraction, part of the collection for our alien host.” I lower my head in defeat. “Fly the universe,” I mutter under my breath.

I realize we would be imprisoned forever, traveling the universe at the awe of other intergalactic species. Macrocosm Airlines. Of course, it was in the name all along.