Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - 3 Airplane Horror Stories (Compilation of October 2022)

Episode Date: October 14, 2022

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We had reached cruising altitude and the passenger airplane I was sitting aboard was sailing turbulently through the sky, riding on air currents, and exploiting physics in ways that I would never understand. Maybe it was my ignorance of these principles, which made me so nervous. My legs trembled with constant vibrations. My teeth had been chattering for a while during takeoff, but now my nerves had settled down to a dull roar. Are you sure you're all right? The white-haired man sitting next to me asked, his hand settling on my arm in a comforting way. Should I call the stewardess over? She can get you some water or a cup of tea to calm the nerves. Maybe a shot of brandy too. He laughed, gripping my arm just a little too firmly now.

I'm fine, I said. The worst of its past. As long as we don't run into engine trouble, I should be okay. That statement caught a few angry glares from passengers nearby, who quickly went back to reading or talking amongst themselves. I scolded myself internally for saying my worst fears out loud. Nobody liked to think about engine trouble when they were flying over the Atlantic Ocean in the middle of the night. Well, let's not speak of those things just now. Do you want a book to read?

I brought a spare novel. It's a John Grisham. No, thanks. Well, how about some television? I think they have cable on these little things nowadays. He pointed at the screen on the headrest in front of me. I hadn't even noticed it there. That's a good idea.

Maybe I can find something to distract myself. I turned the power on and noticed immediately the lack of sound. Of course, I had forgotten to bring earphones. Here, the man next to me said, handing me a pair of his own. I'm not using them right now. You can borrow them. They were the kind with foam pads on the outside of the headphones, not earbuds.

So I felt relatively safe using them, even though I am a bit of a germaphobe. At least we wouldn't be swapping earwax. Thanks, I said, taking them and putting them on, plugging the cord into the headphone jack. A squeal of feedback caused me to recoil. I turned the volume. down, finding it had been set to maximum. The man was speaking again, and I pulled back the

headphone to hear him better. Anything I can do to help? I used to have a terrible fear of flying, you know, but after you do this a few times, you start to get used to it. I smiled weakly, feeling nauseated from not eating. I hadn't been able to stomach breakfast that morning or any other meal for that matter. It had been over 24 hours since I'd eaten or slept due to my nerves about flying. Putting the earphones back on, I began to flip through the channels on the little television set in front of me. The Discovery Channel came on and I decided to leave it there. It was a show about the Amazon rainforest, describing ancient civilizations which had resided in the jungles. Using new technology, they had found the outlines of massive cities which had housed millions of Amazonians.

Their gods and their myths lost over hundreds of years. I was watching this as the man sitting next to me began to remove something from his bag. It was a Tupperware container with a bright red lid on top. He opened the lid and an odor more foul than anything I had ever experienced wafted out, hitting me in the face like a punch to the nose. It smelled like old, rancid seafood, like a dumpster which has been sitting open in the hot sun, full of used diapers and bad shrimp. The man produced a fork from his bag and lifted the container to his nose, closing his eyes as he savored the smell.

Using his hand like a fan, he waved more of the stink towards his face, like a Gorman, about to eat a Michelin Star meal. Despite my own disgust, I could not be. help but steal a glance at what was inside the container. It looked like a fish had been tossed in a food processor, bones and all, only it hadn't been blended for long enough. There were still obvious pieces of bone, scales, and a fish head could be seen left partially intact. A bulging white eyeball was prominent among the pieces. He dug in his fork and took a large bite, going for the eyeball first. I heard it squish between his teeth and explode in his mouth,

Black, viscous fluid dribbled down his chin, landing on his shirt. I couldn't believe nobody was complaining about the smell. Nobody else seemed to even notice, except for me. If not for how nice he had been to me, I would have said something. The stink was really making me feel sick. He saw me looking and dug his fork into the mess, then held out a large, heaping bite for me. I could practically see the stink lines coming off of it.

Like a cartoon skunk. Did you want to try some? He asked, his yellowed teeth showing as he smiled. That grin, somehow predatory and leering, made me second-guess everything about the man. Suddenly he didn't seem nice anymore. He was mocking and cruel. His previous niceties just a facade to hide his true nature.

At one an actor, he was. No thanks, I said, gulping down a lump of bile in my throat. trying to force a smile, but failing miserably. I just ate before the flight. He looked at me as if staring directly into my soul. Then he shook his head, as if saying no, like he didn't believe me. He sucked his teeth and went back to his meal. You shouldn't lie to me, you know.

I pretended not to hear that and went back to looking at the television, trying to distract myself from the scene happening next to me. But my heart was thumping fast. and I could feel a throbbing pulse in my jugular. The Amazon History Show was finished and now something else was on. It was a show about aviation disasters and how planes malfunctioned before crashing. A voiceover was speaking about horrible tragedies and near misses, showing computer-generated images illustrating the critical parts of the airplane which had broken.

Then they switched to the passenger footage, which had been recorded on people's phones during troubled flights. During this air Asia flight, severe turbulence caused the hospitalization of more than five passengers, as the plane was eventually rerouted to Tokyo. The screen showed images of a plane's interior, shuddering up and down violently, and sending people flying into the ceiling and into the aisles. Women and men could be heard screaming as luggage cascaded from overhead compartments, and people prayed for safety.

I was on that flight, the man next to me said, licking his gore smeared fingers clean. One hell of an in-flight meal. Let me tell you. I tried turning off the television, but it didn't work. I tried to change the channels, but that button was broken too. It was stuck on this particular program, and there was no way to get rid of it.

Instead, I tore the headphones off and unplugged them, handing them back to the man. You don't want to watch it anymore? He asked, slurping up some of the roadkills. casserole. No, thanks for letting me use your headphones. I think I'm just going to try to take a nap. Suit yourself, he said, crunching a bone between his teeth. I'll wake you up for meal service. How he could still be hungry was a mystery to me after he had just ingested such a monstrous dinner. I was already beginning to suspect there was something off about this man. The way he had changed was

unsettling, and I felt like I was suddenly in the twilight zone. He just wasn't acting normal. So I watched him out of the corner of my eye for a while, trying to convince myself he was just a bit odd, and that there was nothing to worry about. He was just an eccentric guy with a very unusual diet. Eventually, I managed to convince myself that was true, and despite my unease, my tiredness one over everything else, and I fell asleep. I woke up and found myself completely alone on the plane. The hateful man sitting next to me was gone, and so was everyone else. The plane was still rumbling turbulently through the air, but now with no one in it. I looked outside and saw the sky was clear and bright blue, instead of night like it had been. But we were flying towards a dark

thunderhead, booming with lightning up ahead in the distance. The stormfront looked to be 10 miles high and a thousand miles wide, a swirling, dark mass of angry weather, a category fucked hurricane that could take out a city without warning. I stood up and looked around the plane, still not understanding how it could be empty. Where had everyone gone? How long had I been out? Had they allowed me to sleep right through de-plaining? Before I had another moment to think, the plane bounced up and down with a sickening yo-yo

motion, then careened to the side. It did this a few more times in rapid succession, pitching forward, backward, so that I was thrown off balance and sent tumbling into the aisle. By the time it settled again, I wanted to puke, but at least the plane had leveled out again. I stood up from the floor and glanced out the window. I saw we had just passed into the massive thunderhead, and the inside of the plane was suddenly pitch black. There was a voice whispering from all around me, speaking my worst fears allowed.

Black, inking tendrils like smoke began to reach out towards me from the shadows. You're alone. The plane is going down. It will sink in the middle of the ocean. Freezing, drowning, water in your lungs. Falling, dropping, plunging from the sky. You know you're going to die. I stumbled forward down the aisle, moving towards the cockpit. They needed to turn this plane around. How did they not see it? How did they not see it? The interior panels of the plane on both sides suddenly made loud, grinding noises,

as if the craft were beginning to break apart at the seams. The walls bent inwards, exposing the insulation, and to sound like a pop can slowly being crushed, could be heard from all around me. Thunder crashed loudly outside and the panels pulled apart further, until I could hear the howling wind and rain and saw it blowing into the cabin. Lightning flashed, and I could see it through a gap. in the side of the plane, which grew even wider before my eyes.

It's going down! I yelled, stumbling forward. We're going to crash! The plane dipped and climbed upwards in a sickening way as we hit another pocket of turbulence. My heart was in my throat, my stomach doing backflips as I lurched down the aisle holding onto the backs of chairs for support. Finally, I managed to reach the door of the cockpit. There were no flight attendants or passengers that I could see, but there had to be someone flying this plane. I began to hammer on the door, screaming at them to let me in. It's going down! I screamed again and again. I heard laughter coming from the darkness all around me as I yelled at the captain hiding behind a steel door. Once again, I found myself on the

floor, being tossed around in the turbulence as we hit another rough patch. I put my hands over my head and tried to cover my face as the plane's fuselage began to come apart and the wings began to break free from the body. Looking up, I saw the door to the cockpit was now open, and there was no one sitting inside. The pilot and co-pilot seats were empty. I staggered to my feet to right the controls. Right at that moment, the plane began to plummet from the sky. It went into a nose dive, and I was once again thrown backwards into the aisle, this time by the force of multiple Gs. I was screaming when I opened my eyes and found myself staring up at the face of the of dozens of anxious passengers all around me.

The flight attendants looked less anxious and more upset, as I had just ruined their quiet flight with what probably appeared to be a total nervous breakdown. To the other passengers, it had appeared that I was sleeping, then collapsed into the aisle screaming about the plane crashing. I would have believed it if it was just a nightmare too, if not for the bruises I would find all over myself. Bruises left for my time being tossed around by the turbulence on the plane.

Several concerned passengers and crew ushered me back to my seat, where I was momentarily left alone again with the old man in his yellow teeth and horrible appetite. You made quite a scene back there, he said, picking his teeth with a toothpick. It was so real, I muttered. How did it feel so real? He didn't answer. Instead, he began to speak about another topic. Do you know what's funny about fear?

He asked. The question was hypothetical, so I just looked at him and waited for his answer. The funny thing about fear, at least when it comes to you humans, is that it doesn't work well if it gets dumped on you all at once. You need to get scared, then feel like everything is okay, then you can get scared again even more, but you start to feel desensitized to it. If it comes at you non-stop, that's why horror movies have highs and lows.

Moments of build-up and tension before the jump scare. The man's belly was swollen, and one of his shirt buttons popped off, flying into the seat in front of him and clicking loudly off the television screen embedded there. He looked full, fat, happy, and satisfied for the first time since I'd met him, as if he'd just eaten a huge meal. Gears were turning in my mind as I looked into his glossy black eyes and began to understand who he was, or at least what his motivations were. Just as I suspected, he was not a man at all. Right, lad, he said, as if he just read my mind.

I had a feeling you'd figure it out. It was you, the voice in the empty plane. You made me think it was real, and then you fed on my fear. You dined on it like that disgusting shit in your Tupperware container. Ah, but fresh is always better than leftovers. I thank you, though. I haven't had a meal like that in quite a while. Your terror was so deep and so strong.

What happened to you anyways? I winced as if slapped, remembering my parents. Somehow, I had a feeling he already knew about them. Why else would he ask? Maybe he wasn't as satisfied as he looked. I hit the call button and waited for a stewardess to come over. Then I asked her if I could switch seats. I told her I'd sit anywhere,

as long as it wasn't next to the disgusting old man beside me. I think he's a demon, I said. Now, I know how that sounds, but hear me out. The flight attendant gave me a worried look, as did several other passengers sitting in the vicinity. She cleared her throat and leaned in, speaking under her breath in an attempt to salvage what was left of my pride. Sir, the seat beside you is empty. I've been watching you throughout this flight, and there's been nobody sitting there.

You've been alone, and to be frank, you've been talking to yourself quite a bit. It's starting to worry some of the other passengers. I stammered something, looking at the old man, unable to turn away from his wrinkled face and yellow teeth, pulled up in a widening grin. It's my responsibility to alert the captain of this, and we will have you return home to America for a psychiatric evaluation. You've got bruises all over you,

and it's obvious you're not able to care for yourself properly based on your behavior during this flight. You're a danger to yourself and possibly to others. An air marshal was sitting nearby and stood up, removing a pair of handcuffs from his belt. I've heard enough, and I agree with your assessment, miss. I appreciate your patience with this man. He's obviously very unwell.

Despite my protests, which quickly turned to screaming, he handcuffed me to my seat. Luckily, this plane is on a return trip to America after a couple hours lay over here, so we'll be back up in the air in no time. The two of them walked away, leaving me alone with the fear-eating demon sitting next. next to me. His true form was slowly beginning to show through the cracking facade of his human

appearance, and I could see the rotting hell flesh beneath. No, no, no, please, don't make me go back. I don't want to go back. I'll take a boat. Let me take a boat. Just anything but this plane. You need to get me off this plane. Don't worry, said the old man, drool cascading out from his lower lip. They used to be scared of flying too. but after a few times, you'll start to get used to it. Have you ever heard of Fadamorgana? It's an optical illusion similar to a desert mirage. The most common form of it is seen on the surface of the ocean.

During the illusion, it seems as if boats are hovering a few yards above the water. But there's another version of Fada Morgana which is much more rare. If you do a quick internet search for Fada Morgana cities, you'll find some very surreal images. Cities which seem to float high above us, perched precariously on the clouds, like a modern Mount Olympus. The pictures look fake, but they are verified to be real.

There's even video footage of these events. When people saw this illusion in China and in other places they gasped and whispered fearfully amongst themselves. Some even fainted or fell to their knees and prayed, thinking the end of the world was upon them, that these were the angels of heaven and the cities of God, coming to announce the end of days.

But as always, those pesky scientists were there to scoff and say, No, that isn't real. It's just an optical illusion. Fadamorgana, they called it. That was the official explanation for the cities in the sky which disappeared just as quickly as they arrived. But those scientists didn't see. see it up close like we did. There's a whole plane full of people who will tell you, the cities in

the sky are real. They're no illusion. I was on a trip to Asia when this all happened. We were flying over Yangxi when suddenly something appeared in the clouds before our eyes. If not for the fact that I was looking out the window at that exact moment, I wouldn't have seen it. But as it happens, I was wide awake and admiring the view when the city appeared. The buildings resting on the clouds were dark and shimmering, almost exact replicas of the city far down below. Except we shouldn't have been able to see them from where we were. The optical illusion of Fada Morgana can't be viewed from within the image itself.

It should have been impossible for us to see what we were seeing. But I wasn't alone. We all saw it. When I looked around the cabin of the airplane, I saw dozens of other passengers staring and pointing at the city in the sky as we flew through its mysterious borders, entering the surreal space that shouldn't exist. And then people began to scream. The airplane suddenly tilted half sideways as the pilot steered quickly to avoid something. I imagined a building shimmering and materializing in front of the airplane

at the last second, like a mountain coming into focus during a snowstorm. Everyone on the packed airplane began to scream after that, as overhead luggage broke free from the compartments and began to rain down, injuring several passengers. A woman who had been sitting across the aisle from me fell down onto the floor, and I tried to help her up. But then the plane's axis tilted again, and I was thrown hard into the window. I turned around and was startled to see a hairline crack forming across it. But something even more terrifying caught my eye as I stared at the glass. Outside, there were creatures flying in the air. They looked like teradactyl soaring between the

massive black buildings. One of them landed on the wing, causing the craft to tilt and veer off course again. People screamed and shouted as they were thrown from their seats, and luggage came crashing out of the overhead compartments once again, emptying them of whatever was left inside. The creature on the wing of the plane began to skitter crawl towards my window, and I saw that its eyes were hollow black sockets. Its maw was like a giant beak made of shadow, full of liquid black teeth. It scrambled rapidly across the wing, heading in my direction, and I could have sworn it was looking straight at me with its dead, empty eyes. That broke me out of my silent terror, and I started screaming, and pointed at the window as other passengers turned to look. Soon there

was a small crowd forming around my seat, staring out at the horrible thing on the wing as it approached the window, and began to scratch and claw and bash its face against the glass. I had never seen anything so desperate and insane, as if it had no purpose except to attack and to maim. A few seconds later there were more of them, fighting with each other as they tried to get in. I saw they had long tails with triangle-shaped points at the end, like demons sent from hell. Or, I realized, maybe that's where we were. Had we died in a fiery explosion without any of us realizing it? Was this just a grim, horrible afterlife, which we were now destined to reside within for eternity?

No, I refused to believe it. I refused to give myself to this place. I shook off that horrible idea and glanced back out the window, hoping it had changed, and we were back on earth again, in the real world. But no, the shimmering black buildings outside were so close now that I felt like I could see inside of them, if not for the fact that they were opaque. Whatever was inside was not meant to be seen by us, and I realized that was probably for the best. If these creatures were the birds of this hellish mirror world, I was scared to see what their people might look like.

I began to suspect we had crossed over into an alternate dimension somehow, and I wasn't sure if we would ever be able to escape. Was this what happened to mysterious planes that went missing in the skies? over the Bermuda Triangle and in a handful of other places, I had heard of those events, but like everyone else, I just assumed they were planes with mechanical failures, or drunken, irresponsible pilots sleeping at the wheel. Turbulence in stormy weather, birds sucked into the engines, or hurricanes with hail the size of golf balls.

There were a thousand potential reasons for a plane to go down. Who would have thought that alternate dimensions could be responsible? I was snapped for my thoughts as the glass shattered and the plane lost cabin pressure. Alarms were suddenly blaring and the lights were flickering in the cabin as oxygen masks fell from the ceiling. People grabbed for them desperately as the creature began to squeeze its way into the plane through the window. Like a cat going through a chain-link fence, it sucked in its gut and its wings flattened down as it began to claw and scratch its way inside. Meanwhile, I was still desperately trying to snag one of the available oxygen masks. Since most people had been thrown from their seats, myself included, that was no easy task.

The wind was rushing and whipping throughout the cabin, making it difficult to do much of anything. I scrambled over a nearby seat and reached for one available mask, just as an older man was about to take it for himself. I left it for him without a second thought. The other ones nearby were also being used, I saw, and began to panic. Looking around desperately, the air becoming too thin to breathe. I finally spotted a handful of unused oxygen masks near the front of the economy section. I was halfway towards the back at the plane, and there were people in the aisles blocking my path, but I knew that I had to get up there.

Like a game of musical chairs, there were only so many oxygen masks to go around on this packed flight, and I was seriously at risk of being the only one left standing when the music stopped. Lurting forward, I stumbled over injured people laying in the aisles. I looked back to see the creature was inside the plane now, and for some reason it had its dead eyes fixed on me. It raced towards me. Its horrible limbs leaving black, inky stains on the seats as it raked them with its claws. The world was spinning, and I was getting a terrible headache as my breathing quickened.

My lungs were desperate for air. I fell over, unable to keep my balance. and began to crawl towards the front of the plane. My vision fading in and out. At one point, I must have blacked out because I woke up to the thing on top of me, snapping its liquid black jaws just inches from my face. Screaming, I reached up to push it away,

only to find that my hands sunk into the thing like molasses. It was tenacious and sticky, binding to my skin, refusing to let go. Die, you fucking hells, Spahn! A man's muffled voice, and I looked up to see a guy wearing an oxygen mask, holding a heavy-looking piece of luggage over his head with both hands. He threw it at the creature, and I recoiled,

worried that it would crash right through the oily black creature and would land right on me. The heavy suitcase did just what I expected and slammed into the thing, splashing it in every direction like a water balloon being destroyed by a sledgehammer. The luggage landed on my gut, knocking the wind out of me, and fracturing three ribs in the process. but luckily for us it took care of the creature. I was still covered in its sticky black goo,

but at least it wasn't about to eat me anymore. And for that, I was grateful. I stood up on shaking legs to thank the man for saving me, then doubled over in pain. My ribs were screaming at me with each breath I took, and my vision was going dark from a total lack of oxygen. The contents of the plane were still whipping around in the air of the cabin, as the alarms sounded, and I heard the captain saying something about an emergency landing.

And then everything went dark, and I passed out again. This time, staying unconscious until after we landed. I woke up in a Chinese hospital. According to the official reports, none of what I've told you actually happened. They covered the whole thing up, as if it never occurred. We tried to tell them the truth. Me, and several of the other passengers have kept in touch. over the years and we've all tried to get our story out there. Unfortunately, no one will

believe us. The official reports contradict us at every step. The media won't even listen to our story, and I can't blame them really. Fadam Organa, they tell us. It was Fada Morgana and nothing more. But I know what I saw. I know where we've been. Hell is real and it's waiting for us in the clouds. Lazzangue sur-gely, puissance-moid for 15 minutes. We'd say that's the

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Viarai. The voice that we love that am. I worked as a flight attendant for lots of different airlines before joining Morana Air. The management just treats us differently here. No one complains about their paycheck. or as to worry about how they're getting to their accommodations from the airport between flights. Everything is taken care of for us.

If you aren't familiar with Marana Airlines, you probably don't know about our signature all-black planes with their high ceilings and highly specific accommodations. If you thought Emirates was tailor-made for their passengers, you should see the bespoke treatment we give our guests. But there are certain rules when you fly aboard Marana Airlines, and those who don't follow the rules will face consequences beyond their understanding.

This is plush. Hot damn, Margie, look at those seats. Hey, man, I gotta ask, are those leather? I smiled at the man and his wife, taking their tickets. The finest Italian leather. We only use the best here on Marana. Right this way to your seats. I trust you've read your instruction manual.

The man cleared his throat from behind me as I walked them to their seats. Yeah, what's that all about anyways? Is that some kind of joke? Because if it is, we don't get it. Not a joke, merely a formality. This is a different sort of airline than you might be accustomed to, that's all.

Our owner does things in her own way and provides a lot of free upgrades at great cost to herself. All that she asks is that passengers read the manual carefully and follow its directives. The couple sat down in their seats and I took their carry-ons, stowing them in the overhead compartment. They were looking up at me with worry in their eyes. I'd seen that look a thousand times. Here, I have a spare.

Just read it through as best you can. They began to study the manual I'd handed to them. And I went back to see the next group of passengers. There was always one. Today, it looked like there might be two. The plane took off as the engines roared loudly, and I looked around to ensure everyone had their seatbelts on. Nobody was in the aisles. So far, so good.

Once we were at cruising altitude, I began with drink service. Making my way down the aisle, I finally got to the couple. They were smiling, looking at me sheepishly. We get it, the woman said. Very funny. My face remained blank. I knew these two were going to be a problem. I had to read it three times, the man said, grinning.

You really had me going. Man, the big corporations these days are really getting clever with their marketing. I've seen Wendy's Twitter account. This is like that, right? Viral marketing? Well, you got me. I tweeted this thing out and it's already got a bunch of likes and comments. People think it's hilarious.

I tried not to show any reaction to what he just said. Can I see the pictures you shared? He showed me, smiling. Did you read number 12 in the manual? I asked. His smile faltered for a second, and he began to read it again. Don't share pictures of your flight on social media or with anyone who was not on the flight with you. But it's just a joke, right?

The woman asked. It's not serious. I mean, look at these other rules. Number four. Don't breathe me. minutes 48 and 49 of the flight? Number eight, if you see a man with no face serving drinks do not speak to him? I didn't laugh, and neither did any of the nearby passengers.

They were looking coldly at the couple, waiting to see what would happen. There was always at least one. Somebody always had to break the rules. Are you able to delete that post from social media? I asked. That part of it was actually real. Oh yeah. I guess I can. Sure, no problem. He pulled up the tweet and tapped a couple times on the screen.

There, it's gone. No harm, no foul. The captain's voice suddenly came on the overhead PA. Oh, Mr. Thompson. If only that were true, he said in his monotone pilot's voice. Unfortunately, you have violated the rules of Marana Airlines, and as such, you are subject to its punishments. The couple's faces were slowly draining of color, turning pale and white as sheets. If this is a joke, it's not a very good one, the woman said, as if trying to convince herself she wasn't scared. Several other passengers stood up from their seats and closed in on the pair. They would learn the rules eventually, just like all of us did.

When we were preparing for takeoff in Paris, I saw a man coming up the ramp and looking at the plane in wonderment. He whistled softly to himself as he stepped on board. Wow. This is quite an airplane you folks have for yourselves. Better than Emirates. That's what the guy at the counter told me anyways. Is that true? You guys got them hot towels you can put on your face?

Mr. Thompson came over and took the man gently by the arm, leading him towards his seat. I could tell from the moment I met him, he would make a fine flight attendant. Oh, we certainly do have those hot towels you put on. on your face. They come out piping hot and steamy from the oven and we bring them straight over to you after meal service. I can't get one now, can I? Mr. Thompson shot me a glance. I shook my head. His wife, Margie, was standing next to me, watching her husband. It's him then? Yes, I told her.

There's always at least one, sometimes two or three at the most. But we always get a new passenger with each flight. And they never followed the rules? I shook my head sadly. As her husband tried to explain to the man why he couldn't have his hot towel right now, and he bickered about why he should be able to. Have you read the instruction manual?

Here, I have a spare copy. This is vital information. Vital. Read it through very carefully. Mrs. Thompson had to ask the question. I knew she would, since they always did. How can we keep getting new passengers? This plane is big, but not that big.

I pulled back the curtain beside us, which revealed the forward part of the plane. Rows and rows of seats extended on and on, going forever into the distance. It was like looking into a mirror which was positioned in front of another mirror. The seats never ended, just getting smaller and smaller as they faded off into the distance,

and passengers became the size of ants. Welcome to first class, I said. You work hard enough. One day you might get to sit up there.