LUNATIX

Darkness. Total. The pale dew is gone. Already. Sponged down the iron plates. Oh yes, the repulsin! Where is it? I poke the void above. Nothing. I push my hands under. And my legs too, hesitantly. Nothing.

Viktor called it an antigravity machine. So this is antigravity. But where’s the machine? My body seems to be suspended above nothing, below nothing, surrounded by nothing. I swim in an ocean called Nirvana. Wait a minute! If well remembering, Viktor did mention Nirvana. He did! Was that a metaphor?

There’s no light around here, in Nirvana. What a gloomy realm. Are my eyes open? Let me check. With my hands on the forehead, my pointers try to raise my lids. Ouch! Looks like my eyes were wide open all the time. Let me blink a few more times. Might help with keeping them wet.

Black. This is what I see in front of my eyes. Round here, in Nirvana. If this is Nirvana, after all.

Cold. Do I feel the chill of empty space? The fabric of my uniform keeps me warm. Or does it? I have no buttons, the coat is loose. No belt. Same are my trousers. Loose. This is a summer uniform. They had to freeze in these on the outskirts of Moscow. Judging by what I can see (or can’t actually) this darkness should have a temperature way lower than the forests surrounding Moscow, in winter. How about that?

Wondering. What if I feel a negative temperature on the Kelvin scale? A matter of entropy, or lack of it. The energy of my presence here should decrease the entropy of the system.

Am I alone? No one in sight. Easy to figure that out, eh? Still, sight is not enough. How can I be alone? Was I the only one flying a repulsin? Viktor has trained several pilots for his manned machines. I can remember Erwin, Hans and Helga and... Never mind.

My fascination with jet fighters had me opt for the Schwalbe. I am pretty sure that this wonderful plane will make history. I could have done that if following the orders to drop the first two atom bombs over Northern Transylvania. I am happy that I didn’t.

Düsenjäger.

Perhaps the victors will call it jet hunter, or jet fighter.

What would they call the repulsin?

Foo fighter.

Did I say that? I can speak, move my lips, but no sound is produced for the ears to hear.

Did I think that? Foo fighter? What a nonsense. What does this word, foo, mean?... Fool?

Don’t think so. However, the words landed in my mind.

Interesting. I’ll have to think more often. Precisely. Naming things. Expecting for new words to hit back.

Feedback.

Did I say that?

Let’s start with thinking my name.

Rolf, Rolf Ra..., Rolf R...

Uhm... Why can’t I think my entire name? Is it that I forget my surname? Not at all. I know who I am. Just that I can’t think it... But hey! What is that? A ceiling? Really?

Pale. I can see a surface. An area with cracks. At random. The geometry of the lines is unknown. But seems familiar. The lines are blue. Like the sky. And the ceiling above my head is white. Or pale blue. No! Rather white. I touch it.

A cushion. It feels like a leather cushion. Dry and comfortable to walk upon.

Upon? Didn’t I see it as a ceiling? Initially. Funny how I use it as a floor after touching it.

My boots are dirty. The soil of the vine hills around Balaton sticks to them. Do I need my boots?

Sitting, I take them off. One after the other, they vanish into the abyss. Where I’ve thrown them.

The abyss? So now I see an abyss. Do I have an up and down? Too bad that I tossed both my boots in one direction. The one I deemed to be the ‘down’ a minute ago.

The papers. Where are they? Top right pocket. Yes. I remember Rivkah and her riddles... I throw my papers ‘up’ and they fall up the same way as my boots fell down.

I have no boots. Time for a walk.

To my right, the cushion raises to form a mild mount and then continues... Oh my... Let me check something!

To the left, the cushion breaks in four.

Behind me, across a narrow gutter, there is... there is... Incredible. A finger!

Four fingers to my left, one behind, the arm to my right. I am standing in someone’s hand.