The rooster-styled alarm clock goes off at 6AM and Tony taps the snooze button after a sneak peek to ensure the absence of sharp objects over it; the sole memory of an ex whose prank took him to the ER. After three snoozes, each at an interval of ten minutes, Tony wakes up swiftly to the sudden realization that he’ll be fired if today’s flight is missed. Tony’s company, Wherewithal Technologies develops critical communication technologies for the Department of Defense and importance of today’s demonstration could not be stressed enough. The flight is scheduled at half past eight and he quickly charts the routine required to reach the airport in time and maps it on his brain. All the stars have to align for him to make it in time. But then, most stars are either touchy bastards or snarky bitches that rarely looked each other in the eye.
It is five minutes past seven as he runs down the stairs, wearing a backpack, carrying a suit in one hand and tucking-in the rumpled shirt with another. Reeking of excessive cologne, essential to compensate for the shower that wasn’t, Tony stands before the garage which opens like it was waiting to get back at him. Even as the door is partially open, he bends in to find the garage empty, deliberates for a moment and charges in the direction of the visitor’s parking. After throwing the bag and suit fiercely on the back seat, he starts the car, even before putting on the seat-belt and then it dawns on him that the fuel level is at rock-bottom, the marker pointing much below the empty sign. One could bet on driving to the fuel station; then again, is it worth it? Not so sure after having had to call in AAA twice when the car gave up mid-way to the fuel station. Heck! Tony isn’t even sure if the AAA membership was renewed this year, after the change in credit card. With his job on the line, he decides not to take a chance and rings in for a cab, even as sweat is dripping off his forehead.
The digital clock at the Southwest Airlines’ gate has waited patiently for one whole minute to toggle from 7.52AM to 7.53AM even as a cab approaches it at high speed, screeching to a halt. “Such a prick!” mumbles the cab driver as Tony quickly pays her off and rushes to grab the backpack from trunk. Tony had been badgering her all along to exceed the speed limits, not worried one bit about the possible spike in her insurance rates; proving self to be the type who petitions the mayor to install fire hydrants after building a home at the mouth of an active volcano. After violently shutting the trunk down, he plucks the cart nearby, not caring for the elderly woman who was annoyed at her cart being hijacked, and dashes in to the check-in area, where the queue is not long enough to be a cause of concern. The pleasant person that he is, he finds a way of avoiding even that by stating loudly that his flight is in twenty minutes, as if the folks in queue are to be blamed for his nonchalance.
Hastily finishing the check-in process, he surges towards the security region as the clock reads 8.04AM. Having gotten into trouble in the past trying to sprint through security, Tony remains mindful, trying to keep discipline at the security gates. There are three people in front and in the race between patience and time, patience gets hit by a bus. Pointing at the nearby TSA official, Tony cried, “My granny is dead!” Security check done swiftly, he proceeds to use the time saved in buying chocolates from the shop by the gate, picking pomegranate truffles, even as final calls for the flight were being made.
Tony rushes and sneaks into the flight at the very last minute, completely disregarding the stern look on the pretty air-hostess’ face. After settling in the seat he starts fiddling with his phone even as the flight reaches runway, readying for take-off. The air-hostess visits for final checks and requests him to place the phone on airplane-mode to which he readily complies, holds still until she leaves and starts playing with it again. The clock strikes 8.30 AM and just as the flight is taking off, his phone rings, sending him into a panic attack as everyone in the vicinity turned around. Like a child who dropped the glass jar when caught stealing cookies, instead of just avoiding the call, he tries closing the other application, the all-important one, but messes it up. At that very instant, the airplane starts wobbling. Tony’s mind harked back to previous evening when he used Wherewithal Technologies’ jamming technology equipped phone to impress the waitress. Developed to forestall terrorist attacks, it was put to good use at thwarting Justin Bieber’s songs at the restaurant. The waitress wore an eternal poker face and such an act was necessary to confirm if her face muscles were functional. That bit of magic was a grand success alright, and continues to be one now as he had forgotten to close the application. Even as he scrambled to turn off the jammer, all electronic equipment in the airplane have collapsed. For someone who chased time all this while, this was a role reversal of sorts. Within seconds, the flight resembled a giant see-saw without a pivot, tilting up and down, mid-air. After 2 minutes of panic, the plane crashes.
As the rooster-styled clock spelt 8.53AM, CNN’s news-scroll flashed: “Air-crash at LAX. 223 people on-board feared dead. One miraculous survivor.”
Thought Modulation 