Flight 2788

She looked off, the attendant. I don't know why. I just saw her in a blink. It was bewildering but unsurprising, given that I was a zombie. I shrugged it off.

The flight finally landed at 9:42 P.M. As the city lights blurred past and I felt the landing gear hit the runway, I readied myself for a five-hour layover at Delhi T2. This wasn't news; it was the zillionth business trip of the year. Every time my boss hands me a flight coupon, I feel nothing. Not even anger, just static. I think I could fill an entire diary with just these coupons.

As I deboarded the plane, an A320, I heard a loud noise from the hull. I was used to it. Then, the usual. Bus, switching terminals, security checks, and death. The domestic terminals were not flashy. Very underwhelming industrial buildings. White, empty, sad sludge. Reminded me of my office room.

I arrived at gate 25: the waiting area. An infinite horizon of nothingness, empty grey seats. Vending machines, a washroom, and a Subway. I sat down. 10:15. Good. 4 more hours to go.

As the wait began, so did my descent into depravity. It wasn't a fast descent crash, it was a slow burn. I ate the pasta in my tiffin box and scrolled through the garbage on my phone. I stared at the ad on the charging kiosk playing on a loop. An eyeliner ad: my best guess. Passengers came and went. Flights to Jaipur, Chennai, and Kolkata took off and landed. My eyes- I couldn't keep them open. I tried falling asleep but the cold metal seats were painful. Horse-sleep now. I cursed my boss. He always booked the cheapest seats - aisle, middle, on the flight deck, inside the engine, the toilet seat, etc. The dreaded Nine to Five loop was insufferable but inevitable. A zillion miles of travel for a car salesman.

I got jolted out of my half-sleep by some guy who wanted to keep his bag beside me or something. Great. No sleep. 10:32 pm. My eyes were numb like a zombie. I barely walked to the Subway to find it closed. No food, no sleep, no hope. No nothing. Also known as Monday. But hey, at least the vending machines looked friendly! A bag of chips. Twenty rupees. Ten rupees for air. The air felt fresher than the airport.

One, two, three, four, five - I was counting the ticks on the wall clock. 26,27,28,29. It stopped. Froze. Great. No food, no sleep, no time. Minutes felt like hours, the seats felt like coffins and the white paint felt like, well, nothing. 24,25,26,27. I glanced at the gates as I picked up the fourth item from the machine and instantly dropped it from my dead hand.

That's what a zillion business trips do to a man. I was a lobotomy away from being a zombie.

As my eyes soaked in my sockets and my legs felt like blades, I heard an announcement.

Flight 6E2788, Gate 25, to Mumbai. FINALLY. My legs were frozen. Somehow, I got up and limped to the gate. Beep. The boarding pass was scanned.

I looked at the plane. A blue A321 Neo. Rolls Royce engines. The cold air hit my zombie face as I felt the air freshener whooshing out the cabin ceiling. But, one of the flight attendants. I don't know. She looked off. I couldn't say why. But she did. "Just feeling sleepy", I shrugged it off.

It was a window seat! I thanked my boss for letting me watch my life wash away during take-off. Boss, thank you! The safety briefing started. I didn't pay attention. If we’re dying, we’re dying. I watched the airport lights sprinting through the foggy window as the engines roared and the metal cylinder took off. A sense of relief washed over me. Finally, I could get some sleep, or so I thought.

I closed my eyes. The familiar hum of the engines had lulled me to sleep. Asleep but not asleep. Sleep was angry with me. Sleep hated me. Insomnia in flight plus a crying baby equals hell. So I decided to face it. The in-flight magazine was strange. It was all blank, except the same eyeliner ad. Great magazine. Would recommend. 3:00 AM. Good. Just an hour to go. The white interiors of the plane, bright lights, ugh.

I thought of the office days. The same white walls, the desk, and the terrible wooden door. The same white pages, and reports. White cars to sell. "Brand new Baleno! Great mileage, safety bla bla". I was selling terrible cars. Selling socks would be more respectable. At least they’re colorful and warm, as opposed to the cold white metal boxes that I sell.

But that's life.

We as a society have accepted mediocrity as a way of life. Wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. We don't dream anymore. We survive, don't live. We expect life to flow like a river, not realizing it’s a turbulent sea, and the ship is broken.

“Attention please, this is the captain speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts”, the noisy static announcement said.

I was ready to get off the metal tube. Heh, 21st-century technology, yet so dull and cold.

Minutes pass. Some more minutes. Tick, tock. And then some more. Tick tock. I never felt the plane descend. The flaps never extended. "Shouldn't we be on the ground right now?", I thought. Tick tock tick tock. As the seconds ticked by I expected to see the city lights or the vibration of the landing gear extending. "Maybe a go-around?"

I wait and wait. The engines don't stop. Pitch black outside the window. Almost too black. Disturbingly black. I turned to look at the other passengers. Nobody flinched. Silence. Radio silence. I turned my attention to the blank magazine. Nothing. A zillion trips, a trillion layovers, and a million check-ins. No, this was new. Was this some jet lag or what?

Wishing I had done it earlier, I took out the boarding pass and read Flight 2788, Gate 25, From Delhi To____________. BLANK. WHITE.

I called a flight attendant. It's her. H E R. No eyebrows, a disturbingly wide smile, teeth too white. I pinch and slap myself, looking like a stupid tadpole, which I am. No. This was real. I look up. Gone. Gone Girl. Her. Her. Her. Where is she?

Expecting a jumpscare, I close my eyes and beg for it to end. The coupons, white walls, the desk...I want it to end.

I open my eyes. Same pitch-black window. I see the reflection of the passengers STARING at me. WHAT IS HAPPENING? I can't move my head. This is the end. This is it. Her. Her. Her.

A sense of terrible dread washed over me as I witnessed their skin fall off. Their eyes, nose, and mouth were reduced to ghosts of their existence and soon I was looking at white faceless objects. I kicked the seat and slapped myself. "I must scream but I have no mouth". The time read- the hands of the clock disappeared. I felt my face melting away. The attendant, now faceless, made occasional cameos.

As the engines grew louder, I was hit with a terrible brick of realization: I might be dead. I probably am. The plane crashed. I will be nothing. Zero. Nada. I quickly got up and tried to limp to the cockpit.

My memories were bulldozed. Gate 25. Grey chairs. Vending machines, the Subway. The plane kept flying. Dizzy. Anoxia. Cabin depressurization. This is it. You are done. Gone.

We entered a turbulent patch of sky. It was far worse. It was not a sky. I picked up the magazine and flipped through the pages. And I felt (not saw). I felt the words:

DON'T DIE ON THIS HILL.

Then it hit me. I never boarded this plane. I never did.

My suspicions proved right as I felt the sky turn bright pink. I pinched myself again. Nothing. The plane started shaking, passengers still quiet, almost as if they were gassed. I couldn’t see, smell or hear. My face was taken away. Snatched. I felt the sky turn deep green, orange, and violet. Strange symbols.

Strange. Strange. Very. I am NOT convinced. Someone was playing with me, but I begged him to end it. I would rather endure white walls than this. I felt like I was dying. Unreal pressure. Breathless, life-

"INDIGO FLIGHT 2788 DECLARED MISSING. INVESTIGATION UNDERWAY"

The TV read.

"Flight with 118 souls on board disappears en route to Mumbai, confirmed missing by multiple sources". The reporter read.

I sighed. What a ride.

I canceled the flight last second. I had become a local celebrity, as a result, dubbed the "Temporal Survivor".

Back to office! Glad to be there and alive.

My boss welcomed me. He was never this nice to me. He apologized for the "unfortunate incident". And I forgave the guy. He didn't know. I just hope he learned his lesson on giving a new flight coupon every week.

I went back to work.

The boss. Him. He looked off. I don't know why. I just saw him in a blink, still half asleep.

Just a trick of the eye. I shrugged it off, as I turned pages in the sales report. I found an eyeliner ad in between the pages. Looked familiar. I know the lady in the picture. Anyway, I digress.