Flying
“Point,” suggested the attendant. They pointed the rods and found themselves flying wherever they pointed. Up brought them only so high and no higher. One by one they discovered that down brought them gently down.
Gasoline was gushing onto my shoes. I jumped back, shut off the pump and hung up the hose, then hurried over to where the attendant was watching the fliers land. “What is that?” I asked him, breathlessly. He offered me one; I held up my hands and shook my head. “What is it?” I repeated.
“It is what it does,” said the attendant. “You saw what it does.”
“It’s wonderful!” exclaimed the first woman I’d seen, rising slightly as she forgot to keep the rod pointed downward. “I’ll take four!”
“Only one per customer,” said the attendant, “while limited supplies last.”
“How does it work?” I asked. The attendant just looked at me. “I mean, how is it powered? Does it need batteries?” The attendant smiled pityingly. The man who’d flown looked annoyed and said, “Look, lady, whatcha gotta make trouble for? You can see it works!”
“Well, I thought it was a perfectly reasonable question,” I said, defensively. “Does it need batteries or a recharge or refills? How long does it last, anyway?”
“What you’re questioning here,” said the second woman to have flown, “is a miracle. You can’t question a miracle.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” most of them repeated. “Why not!”
“Yes, why not?”
The gas station attendant turned his back to me and began to collect money from the others.
“How much is it?” I ventured, but no one paid me the least mind. “Well, goddamn it, how can I buy one if you won’t tell me how much it is?”
The third woman to have flown pointed her rod at me — as threatening gestures go, it failed, especially since the rod dragged her right to me. I grabbed it and she fell, thudding, three inches to the macadam. I rose beyond her grasp, then drifted sideways. Pointing the rod at my stomach, I was able to stop drifting and simply hover.
The attendant gave little caps to his customers so they wouldn’t fly off unexpectedly and, except for the woman whose rod I’d just stolen, they all got into their cars and drove away. That woman argued with the attendant for a while but he neither replaced her rod, returned her money nor came after me. She didn’t know what to do then, so she just stood there, watching me.
I was worried about my car, which was unlocked and had the keys dangling from the ignition, but apparently she didn’t think of taking it or didn’t know it was mine. If it occurred to the attendant, he failed to comment.
When the woman sat down on the cement-paved area surrounding the office, I discreetly lowered myself, inch by inch. She only glared at me. Well, she may also have been crying. As I was attracting a bit of attention, the attendant made a number of sales and seemed not at all anxious to capture me. By and by I was only a few inches off the lot. The woman made no move toward me.
Seventeen minutes after I’d nabbed it, the rod gave out and I slipped those few inches, to the gas station lot, twisting my ankle. I hobbled to where the woman was still sitting, and dropped the thing in her lap. She looked questioningly at the attendant, who only shrugged.
The woman stood up very slowly. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. She pointed the rod this way and that but not urgently. She didn’t seem surprised to remain earthbound. She narrowed her eyes at the attendant but she spat at my feet as she walked past me, to the street, where her emergency blinkers had been running down her car’s battery, all this time. She held the rod like a child might hold its favorite crippled teddy bear, by its one leg, but firmly.
I turned back to the attendant but he was collecting money for gasoline. He had no more rods. I waited my turn to pay him, then limped back to my car and got the hell out of there, thinking, I should’ve flown away, I should’ve flown so far away….
