Green Lake 12
Capt Williams enters my office with a cheeky grin, "few minutes of your time Col?"
"My ear is yours."
"Col, you ah read the manuals on training?"
"Capt, on that rack are over 4,000 CD's, all manuals. Most I'm afraid are gathering dust. Perhaps if you would be a little more specific."
"Reason we got you, sheer desperation, plus the Canada trip wasn't a jump. But now, you gotta make amends. Minimum of 2 electronic and 2 silk jumps. That's just to keep the wolf away from the door, until you get into a proper course."
"Please explain the difference."
"Imagine a peacekeeping tour, upland jungles of New Guinea. Electronic descent, lot safer, fewer casualties. But in real war, with a modern enemy, electronic descent is pure suicide, they can turn on jammers that'll scatter your force through time and space. The slang term is silk, because ancient parachutes were made of it, but it's really a variant of nylon."
"Oh."
"Col, let's not beat around the bush. Really does work best if you face the one you fear most first. So, which one?"
"Ordinary para silk jump, seems romantic, historical, exciting, I'd love to do that. But beaming down? Oy!"
"Ok, let me explain risk factors. Now bear in mind Col, your odds of winning a lotto are 1 in 14 million. So, if you bought 3 tickets a day, it'd take 14,000 years to buy 14 million."
I nod.
"I'll stay outa the physics, have a Masters myself. Odds are 1 in 21 million you simply vanish into time and space, could end up anywhere in history."
I grin, "we don't ah lose lotta people?"
"Heavens no Col, the entire history of electronic jumps, we've lost one. Far safer than a silk jump, where wind can drift you into injuries. Now the 1 in 21 million implies you'll be you, same age, same body, just somewhere else. Another risk, only 1 in 850 million, never happened before, you age vary. Could end up back being a baby, same you; or nursing home, same you."
I raise an eyebrow.
"Col, the odds of a pedestrian being run over are .... So you see, electronic jumps, safer than crossing a downtown street."
"Oh."
"Relax Col, every safety precaution is taken. The technician has 15 years experience. Your own RSM and I will watch every second. So, just do it twice. First one, really emotionally devastating, do it, then 2 weeks later."
The actual process is a joke. The tech flips a switch and you go from helicopter to field below. No physical exhaustion, but I spent 3 days in bed, hiding under the covers, a normal reaction to first jump. After all, how many of you gentle readers have broken yourself down into particles, lived to tell the tale?
Two days before my second jump, I have a very vivid dream. I simply know what will happen. The age variant, I'll end up a kid again. The dream says, don't bother delaying the jump, it is inevitable.
I spend time cleaning out office and BOQ apartment, to make it easier for whoever has to sort.
As I climb aboard, I realize I don't care. Truth is, I am a little outa my depth dealing with all these grownups.
As we lift off, I quietly say to Zohra, "just in case I don't make it back, thank you for all you've done for me. Been a good loyal RSM, good friend, helped me a lot."
She must guess I know something. Wiping a tear, "nothing compared to all you did for us. We're rich, pardoned, decorated."
This time I black out.
When I awake, it's to see a deathly worried looking woman, presumably Jamila's mother.
"Jamila honey, had a really bad fever. Seems you're ok now. Better get lots of rest."
"My ear is yours."
"Col, you ah read the manuals on training?"
"Capt, on that rack are over 4,000 CD's, all manuals. Most I'm afraid are gathering dust. Perhaps if you would be a little more specific."
"Reason we got you, sheer desperation, plus the Canada trip wasn't a jump. But now, you gotta make amends. Minimum of 2 electronic and 2 silk jumps. That's just to keep the wolf away from the door, until you get into a proper course."
"Please explain the difference."
"Imagine a peacekeeping tour, upland jungles of New Guinea. Electronic descent, lot safer, fewer casualties. But in real war, with a modern enemy, electronic descent is pure suicide, they can turn on jammers that'll scatter your force through time and space. The slang term is silk, because ancient parachutes were made of it, but it's really a variant of nylon."
"Oh."
"Col, let's not beat around the bush. Really does work best if you face the one you fear most first. So, which one?"
"Ordinary para silk jump, seems romantic, historical, exciting, I'd love to do that. But beaming down? Oy!"
"Ok, let me explain risk factors. Now bear in mind Col, your odds of winning a lotto are 1 in 14 million. So, if you bought 3 tickets a day, it'd take 14,000 years to buy 14 million."
I nod.
"I'll stay outa the physics, have a Masters myself. Odds are 1 in 21 million you simply vanish into time and space, could end up anywhere in history."
I grin, "we don't ah lose lotta people?"
"Heavens no Col, the entire history of electronic jumps, we've lost one. Far safer than a silk jump, where wind can drift you into injuries. Now the 1 in 21 million implies you'll be you, same age, same body, just somewhere else. Another risk, only 1 in 850 million, never happened before, you age vary. Could end up back being a baby, same you; or nursing home, same you."
I raise an eyebrow.
"Col, the odds of a pedestrian being run over are .... So you see, electronic jumps, safer than crossing a downtown street."
"Oh."
"Relax Col, every safety precaution is taken. The technician has 15 years experience. Your own RSM and I will watch every second. So, just do it twice. First one, really emotionally devastating, do it, then 2 weeks later."
The actual process is a joke. The tech flips a switch and you go from helicopter to field below. No physical exhaustion, but I spent 3 days in bed, hiding under the covers, a normal reaction to first jump. After all, how many of you gentle readers have broken yourself down into particles, lived to tell the tale?
Two days before my second jump, I have a very vivid dream. I simply know what will happen. The age variant, I'll end up a kid again. The dream says, don't bother delaying the jump, it is inevitable.
I spend time cleaning out office and BOQ apartment, to make it easier for whoever has to sort.
As I climb aboard, I realize I don't care. Truth is, I am a little outa my depth dealing with all these grownups.
As we lift off, I quietly say to Zohra, "just in case I don't make it back, thank you for all you've done for me. Been a good loyal RSM, good friend, helped me a lot."
She must guess I know something. Wiping a tear, "nothing compared to all you did for us. We're rich, pardoned, decorated."
This time I black out.
When I awake, it's to see a deathly worried looking woman, presumably Jamila's mother.
"Jamila honey, had a really bad fever. Seems you're ok now. Better get lots of rest."
posted by afghangirlscifi @ 8:34 AM
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