A cacophony of alarms sounded as A-ha pledged their impending departure. At the same time, the room periodically flashed red, a fitting representation of the mental state of the scientist, frantically attempting to abort the experiment.
"Warning. Warning. Warning."
Inside the glass tank, the rat furiously scratched at the glass while the machine above it trembled dangerously. It's hum had escalated to a roar and it loomed over the rodent; a ravenous mechanical predator.
The scientist was growing dizzy, his fingers slipped on the keyboard and his brow glistened with sweat. The bolts holding the machine together rattled in their sockets, washers slowly turning.
In the complex around, Swiss technicians barked orders and fled anxiously into the surrounding snow. Rats in other tanks and observation rooms clawed at the glass and wire, fearful for their future.
9:45 am (GMT)
The moment of separation was always unnerving. The ground seemed to lurch in protest, and the helicopter, forever fighting to return to its lover's arms, was wrenched from the ground. Inside, detached from the tender farewell occurring below aside from the momentary sinking of their hearts; excited tourists awaited the impending views.
11th of February, 11:56 pm
Jarrad cracked his knuckles. In the absence of any other sound, the act was disconcertingly loud. Jessica, without lifting an eyelid, registered the noise with disdain. Clare and Katherine slept soundly, resting against each other.
In the depths of the night, Matt awoke. Partially due to the snoring of the old man to his immediate left and partially due to his dreams of empty city streets. In the cold, dry air of the cabin, he found himself wondering as to the whereabouts of the tourist from the morning's endeavours. The thought didn't linger.
12th of February, 10:00 am
"Ladies and Gentlemen, just a message from your captain to say that we are beginning our descent and will be arriving at Heathrow Airport at approximately 10:36 Greenwich Mean Time."
10:02 am, Dolpa, Nepal
The breeze was icy and sun blazing as the people of the village went about their daily errands. Life in Dolpa was slow. Situated in such an unforgiving location, it followed naturally that life was founded on the drive to survive.
The morning was brisk and apart from the rapidly approaching catastrophe, completely normal.
10:01 am
A dull yellow glow signaled the importance of seat belts to the passengers on board. The route information displayed on the individual screens was interrupted briefly with a cautionary safety message. Lucy exhaled deeply, prying her nails out from within the faux leather arm rests.
10: 12 am
Steph, happy to be nearing the end of the flight, strapped herself to the steward's chair with gusto and sipped her sub-soil coffee. Meanwhile Conor made his way up the opposite aisle, reminding passengers to correct the position of their tray tables.
10: 14 am
A hot air balloon cruised majestically over the beaches below. Casting a shadow on the sand; to which it would inevitably return.
10:15 am
Michael scrawled a note in his commonplace book, "planes make for dramatic short story locations." Yet another slice of infinite wisdom.
10:16:12 am
In the glass tank, the rat clawed madly, shaving flecks of glass from the walls.
10:16:23 am
The military exercise approached its completion. A successful venture operating without any need for interference.
10:16:41 am
QA915 descended through a dense cloud, the land beneath them rapidly losing its abstract, semi-cubist quality.
10:16:54 am
Numerous helicopter blades span on their respective axes.
10:16:55 am
Captain Phillips conversed calmly with the Heathrow ground control staff.
10:16:58 am
Ellen chewed loudly on a stick of gum offered to her by Christina. The cabin pressure shifted sporadically, much to the chagrin of the passengers.
10:16:59 am
Conor removed his pin once more.
***
12th of February, 10:17 am
In the mountains of Switzerland, surrounded by snow and screaming Scandinavian research scientists, a siren sounded so as to herald the crucial malfunction within the station. Focus groups of rodent escapees fled down abandoned corridors as the bemused employees watched from the mountainside. The savage tremors of the machine within the complex ceased briefly; enough to attract the attention of the rat below. Then, instantly, the machine was gone; separated into thousands of shrapnel shards. The resulting fireball swallowed the building instantaneously, pulling concrete foundations apart. Even as the machine was vaporised, it left its parting gift; a pulse. In nano seconds, the alarm circuits disengaged, the emergency lights dimmed and the satellite contact with central Geneva was lost to the archives of space. Before the blast loosened the snow shelves into an horrifying cascade, the pulse had been carried away.
At unfathomable speed it travelled through the atmosphere, expanding like ripples in water. In milliseconds it had covered Europe and shortly after, the world. All the while it maintained a near constant altitude aside from the occasional atmospheric phenomena that adjusted its course.
For the brief moments of the pulse's existence, it had engulfed the sky; slipping between clouds, between metals, between fabric, skin and cells.
12th of February, 10:00 am
"Ladies and Gentlemen, just a message from your captain to say that we are beginning our descent and will be arriving at Heathrow Airport at approximately 10:36 Greenwich Mean Time."
12th of February, 10:17 am
Only moments before, the passengers of QA915 had been sitting uncomfortably in their seats, resigned to their thoughts. The ground approached and they stirred awkwardly. Alison attempted to adjust her leggings without standing up whilst Eddie watched in affectionate judgement. Conor challenged Steph to a game of chopsticks. Michael took further notes in his journal. Lucy examined a diagram of the body's central nervous system and Juliana read over notes for the next speech she was to deliver.
However, as they did so, an electromagnetic pulse made pilgrimage around them. It permeated the plane, oscillating through the components and passengers alike.
With a deafening crunch, the engines stalled. The intestines of everyone on board were left behind as the plane began to plummet nose first. They screamed together; an inarticulate swansong as emergency oxygen masks were deployed.
Over the Atlantic Ocean, a host of military training planes simultaneously lost contact with the main land. Before any equilibrium could return, the second in the formation had collided with the first, creating a colossal blast of flames and wing fragments, through which the rest of the jets descended, directly into the sea.
In the cock pit, Captain Phillips stared bemused at a panel of flashing lights and a rapidly falling altitude reading.
In Belongil Beach, Australia, a hot air balloon fell from the sky on a dramatic angle. One previously awed holiday maker swung wildly from a rope hanging from the basket. Inside said basket, the irritating instructor, holding onto the same rope for support, desperately attempted to reignite the gas canister inflating the balloon.
Steph unbuckled herself as an avalanche of small personal belongings rolled towards her and Conor down the inclined aisles.
"Emergency brace positions!" she roared to the hysterical congregation. A violent shudder swept her off her feet, further exacerbating the crowd's collective horror.
Every rotation, the blades of the helicopter slowed slightly, the effect of which was a rapid rotation of the body. Inside, the copilot aggressively threw emergency parachutes at the family inside. Her orders were nearly lost to the dizzying sound of the wind outside. Before long, they were swept away by the wind as it filled their parachutes. Even so, the pilot attempted to steady the craft, unable to free his own parachute from below the seat.
In the business class section Alek's head was pushed backwards into the cushioned black leather of her seat while her fingers ripped visible lines in the arm rests.
Cloud after cloud whipped by the windows as London grew in focus underneath them.
Suddenly, as flashing lights ceased flashing and the engine turbines began to rotate, Captain Phillips pulled on his controller; an act felt by the rest of the people on the plane as they were forced down into their seats.
In Dolpa, Nepal, a pulse swept through unnoticed. Not phasing the small bowl haired girl who stewed angrily. Not phasing the farmer, clinging inappropriately to his yak. Not noticed by the various citizens going about their daily lives.
Through the glass, Natalie watched as other planes began to dive through the clouds. Here and there a plane met the ground with a frightening light display. She closed her eyes and reached for David's arm, who in turn, reached for hers.
The ground control of Heathrow Airport, watched in a frenzy as QA915 approached the runway with a startling velocity.
The plane trembled ferociously as the nose scraped the ground. The impractically small wheels were next, and as expected, the force caused them to bend dramatically, leaving the plane skidding wildly on the tarmac; a shower of sparks in it's wake. The underside heated precipitating large scale melting and spot fires while the aircraft slid towards the terminal.
The crowd lurched as the plane fell onto one side, held off the ground by a wing, bending further for every second it was in contact with the ground. Conor held onto Steph as her legs dangled off one side of the seat.
Spinning around in tight circles with one flaming wing on the ground and a series of passengers suffering from uncontainable motion sickness, the plane slowed down in front of one of Heathrow's largest viewing windows.
Once it had halted, every single passenger, white with shock and still inclined in their seats as they were; questioned their status as "alive".
From within the terminal, English holiday makers waiting for their own flights watched in shock.
The emergency slides were deployed; one pointing up into the sky, the other almost vertically into the ground.
