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Chapter 12
The voice came from all around him, “Mayday indeed. Don’t you find it strange that a traditional English Holiday is used for a term that indicates that there is trouble ahead?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off before he could. “Please don’t answer, let me continue. You see after all, it’s not really that strange. Mayday was actually taken from a pagan ceremony that involved singing and dancing as an offering so that their crops would grow without trouble that year. Yet it was then taken by Christian farmers to celebrate the end of the planting season, and yet here we are centuries using it a word to get help so that trouble may be avoided.”
“Anyway enough of me pontificating, as you may be able to guess, there will be no white knights on steeds coming to the aid of the damsel in distress, or even yourself for that matter. You see, all frequencies to and from this particular plane are directed to myself only. With all the money and time I’ve spent on these plans to get you all together, I wasn’t going to chance that one of you would do what you’ve just managed once all the crew was dead.”
“I can see that you are disturbed by the dismissal of my staff in such a manner, but for what I’ve planned, no one else must be allowed to know the whole plan, and certainly no group of people should be allowed to piece things together. The only ones that will know everything will be yourselves when it is all over, and by then it won’t matter who knows.”
He glanced anxiously at the controls in the cockpit, and yet again the voice picked up on what he was looking at. “Don’t worry about the controls, this is the most sophisticated and largest radio controlled plane ever built, though satellite controlled would be a more accurate phrase. I have a team here that will bring that plane in under greater control than if the pilots were still alive.”
“So, why kill all the staff in the air, “ he finally managed to get out. “Surely there would have been better opportunities, with less shock and gore.”
The voice laughed softly before starting again, “Always the one with the questions aren’t you. I really do wonder what was different with you. There really is no logical reason why all the effort and work didn’t take the same in you, as it did in the rest of your fellow passengers.”
“Didn’t you realise that’s what happened to you five years ago? Everyone on this plane was taken to rooms similar to the one you obviously remember. You all had, what was then, the most advanced silicon implants placed into the base of you skulls. Along with this came an intense course of subliminal impressioning to mould the way you would act in the future. You were effectually programmed to do certain items of work in your respective fields and to be in certain places at certain times.”
“There were safety measures put into the implants. They were designed to keep your features the same. Although the programming was felt to be infallible, and set along side the implants, I had to safeguard against the slightest chance that one of you would find out that you’d been programmed, and did something to escape the fate laid out for you. Therefore part of the implant helped to control such items as hair growth and metabolism rate. If anyone tried to change their hair to alter their appearance, or lost or put on weight, then the implant would kick in. In your case, and the rest of the males, the need to shave stopped, so that you couldn’t grow beards or moustaches. If some one had a shift in weight then the implant would kick in and alter the metabolism rate to combat the change. It also stopped hair growth, and made the hair grow in a particular way. If it was changed, then the implant would kick in, and in less than 24 hours the appearance would be back to how it was before the change. Not only that, but the programming stressed happiness to all of you about the way you look and was set up to stop you from changing your appearance.”
“In the five years since we implanted and programmed you, only one person has attempted to change the way they look at all. Obviously I don’t need to add that that person was you, and your attempts to change your hairstyle, almost as if you were experimenting with it. You are like the single piece that doesn’t fit. There is no one that has been involved in this project that understands just what it is about you that allows the level of deviation from the programming seen in you.”
The voice continued, “Not one of the other subjects has ever done anything that could be considered as being out of synch with their programming. All of the staff were programmed in a similar way, to the extent that it was certain that they would all have their meals on this flight as planned. I knew they would all die, and in a place where I have complete control of the situation. So, in answer to your question, no there wasn’t a better opportunity to decommission my staff. It may have been messy, but that was necessary to make sure of death.
There was a brief pause as he looked around, and wondered to himself what he would do, and if he could tell any of this to the rest of the passengers when he went back out.
The voice started again, “According to the analysis of the people who helped in the programming, no one would attempt to find the cockpit, but after watching you be the exception to the rule so many times, I felt it would be unwise not to take every precaution, and prevent you from contact with the outside world at this point.”
“You gave me quite a scare yesterday morning when you dived off the tube like that. It seemed that all my meticulous planning would have gone to waste, and I would have to postpone for the third time. Before you ask, it was you who has caused the previous attempts to be cancelled due to you just deciding to change plans at the last moment, something that the programming should have prevented.”
“It was quite a wild reaction, and it did come as a surprise that Andrea knew who you were when she spoke to you on the tube yesterday morning. Granted, you’re somewhat of a minor celebrity in Philadelphia, and well known in security circles, but not to the extent that Andrea should know who you were. I decided to dig a little more to find some reason for it, and do you know what I found?”
He just stood there frozen. The name Andrea rang bells louder than Quasimodo ever could. His mind raced trying to remember why, but it seemed that the answer was blocked off, and he heard himself saying, “No, please tell me.”
The voice answered, “When we did all our original profiles before we took everyone in for implanting and programming, we tried to ensure that no one knew, or had any knowledge of any of the other subjects. It would seem in your case there was a slight oversight. It was true to say that you’d never been married, but we hadn’t really taken into account your engagement to Claire Fallenfant, which we felt was unnecessary, seeing as she had died two years before we started this project.”
If the research had been even more extensive then the surname would surely have jumped out at us, as how many people have the surname of Fallenfant in this world? Meanwhile it turns out that Andrea Baugmater, the lady you sat next to on the tube, and that gave you such a start, and who is another of the subjects on this plane, is married, and her name at birth was actually Andrea Fallenfant.”
It hit him like a hammer. The resemblance was plain to see, and that was why the name Andrea had rung bells. He’d never actually met Claire’s sister, as she’d moved to Europe before they had met, and although he’d seen photos of her, it was of her as a teenager with the rest of the family.
The voice continued, “Of course, you’d never met her had you? She’d always lived in Europe since before the time you first met Claire, and was somewhat estranged from the rest of the family because of it. It would however, seem that she wasn’t so estranged from Claire that she didn’t know who you were.”
He stood there in a kind of shock, not quite believing what he was hearing. In the space of about five minutes his world, which had got a damn site worse since the hijacking, had really been turned inside out. He’s been used as a puppet by an unknown maniac for going on five years, and he took little satisfaction from the fact that he’s not been the model of consistency that all the other puppets that had been rounded up onto this plane had been. To top it off he had found out that the woman who so reminded him of Claire was in fact her sister, Andrea, that he’d never met, or even spoken to. Whereas earlier in what appeared to be yesterday, though he could no longer be sure of what time or day it was wherever they were, the thought of Claire had caused him to freak out and black out, this time it spurred him on.
He was vaguely aware of the voice starting again, but he managed to shut it off as he turned and looked around the cockpit. How could he stop this lunatic from doing whatever he had planned. Impulse took over and he dived to the controls of the plane and pulled at them wildly. He expected the plane to lurch suddenly, one way or the other, but there was nothing. He was then aware that he could hear laughter.
“Now then, you don’t seriously think we’d leave any of the controls on the plane active, now that we’re guiding it in do you? Especially given your track record for unpredictable behaviour. Just what did you think you were going to accomplish if you had managed to get the controls to respond to you? Ditch in the ocean, and condemn everyone on board to an icy, watery grave? Change course and land somewhere else? I know you’ve no flying experience, just how were you planning to avoid killing everyone?”
“What makes you think there was a plan? I acted on impulse, as I like to. You have to remember that I’m not exactly your model programmed unit.” As he said it, a small smile appeared on his face.
“That’s exactly why you were originally chosen for this project. You were regarded as someone who could come up with solutions to problems, because you don’t think like anyone else. If I’d have known for one minute just how much trouble you’d end up being, I’d never have approved your choice.”
“Sorry to be so much trouble, if only you’d sent me a memo or something, I might have been able to help.”
The voice changed, and an icy tone came through the speaker. “Go and join your fellow passengers. I have no more time to speak to you right now. Tell the others what you like, it changes nothing.”
There was an audible click as the voice signed off from his end. He stood there for a moment and considered just what he would tell the rest of the passengers when he left the cockpit. He looked down and realised that he was stood in the co pilot’s blood, and quickly shifted side wards, and wiped his feet on the clean part of the cockpit carpet. He opened the door and squeezed outside.
The air of hysteria that he’d left to go into the cockpit hadn’t reduced any in the time he’d been in there. Someone was still screaming, people were crying, but there was no one speaking. He made his way to his seat, and no one stopped him to speak to him, or to ask about his time in the cockpit, in fact most of the other passengers looked away as he passed them as if he was part of all this madness that was going on. He sat down, and went to rub his eyes, not even realising he was still wearing his sunglasses. He sat with his eyes closed trying to clear his head, when he felt someone stood close by. He opened his eyes and looked up and said, “Hello Andrea.”