News from the Clouds

by Robert Llewellyn

  After a few moments of complete stillness I felt the plane descend. I had no control over any of this. As I gently sank down the crowd came into view; I felt utterly helpless. I had been flying free and under my own control, I emerged from the cloud into clear sky, but somehow all control had been taken away from me. Feeling like a fly trapped in a spider’s web was one possible analogy; it was creepy.

  The Yuneec eventually came to a gentle and slightly bouncy halt, and as I glanced about me I noticed the white doughnuts that had been escorting me had disappeared.

  I was stationary, resting on a bouncy cloud surrounded by several hundred people of various races and ages. They didn’t look angry or dangerous; in fact they looked quite friendly. Some of them even made little waving gestures.

  Two people broke ranks and walked up to the plane: an old man and woman. They were moving toward me in a very peculiar way. I suppose it was a little as if they were walking across a giant mattress.

  They both had their palms held up indicating, I hoped, that they meant me no harm. It did cross my mind that they might have been sporting some kind of fearsome body-disintegrating weapon resembling, to the uninitiated, an upheld human palm, but they were smiling.

  I opened the cockpit door slowly. I didn’t want to make sudden movements that could be misinterpreted so it seemed like the right thing to do.

  The woman, who was not as tall as the people of London, stood next to the Yuneec’s wing and spoke slowly: ‘Hallo, Gavin, es ist eine freude sie zu treffen, willkommen in der anthropocene.’

  2

  I was kept upright by the two old German people as I wobbled unsteadily on a white inflatable courtyard. A quilted courtyard made of a cream-coloured material that was definitely inflated in some way. A massive bouncy castle, that was really the only reference point I had. I needed to be held up because when I had climbed out of the Yuneec I had fallen over. It was embarrassing, I had just fallen over like a drunk bloke outside a pub and there were hundreds of people silently watching me.

  The two old Germans helped me to my feet with ease and helped me to find my balance. I thanked them, I almost said ‘danke schön’ but it came out a bit muffled. I don’t speak German but I knew that meant ‘thank you’.

  By this time in my adventures I had given up all notions of being able to judge people’s ages, but the two German people were clearly a lot older than me, let’s leave it at that. They both seemed quite agile and strong and weren’t gripping my arms as if I was under arrest, they were merely steadying me.

  ‘You will feel much better if you lie down,’ said the woman. She had a strong German accent but had somehow already surmised that I spoke English.

  I didn’t know her name – what I mean is, her name wasn’t immediately apparent to me – she was just a German woman who was keeping me upright. I stared in their faces waiting to understand where I was, who they were and where they had come from. Nothing.

  I realised with some dismay that even during my short stay in the Squares of London I had become completely used to the ubiquity of the kidonge, the teeny little communication device embedded in the bone marrow of my shinbone. This woman knew my name yet I had no idea of hers. I felt deaf; it was as if a perfectly natural sense had stopped working.

  ‘I am Gertrude,’ said the woman. I would guess she was about 60 years old but it was annoying not to know for certain.

  ‘I, um, I don’t know where I am.’

  ‘Cloud nine,’ said the man beside her. It sounded like ‘clout nine’ as this man also had a thick German accent. ‘Welcome, Gavin, I am Gustav.’

  I’d guess this fellow was roughly the same age as the woman. I’d already managed to forget her name which sent me into a right old tizz.

  ‘How do you do, Gustav? Gustav,’ I said, shaking his hand and repeating his name in an attempt to memorise it. ‘Gustav,’ I repeated for good measure.

  ‘And I am Gertrude,’ said the woman with a kindly smile.

  ‘Gertrude, right,’ I said. ‘Hello, Gertrude, Gustav, Gertrude and Gavin, all our names start with a G.’

  I smiled at them, I hoped this association would help me remember their names but quickly realised I was giving the impression of being a total nutter.

  ‘I’m Gavin,’ I said again. I couldn’t help myself.

  ‘Yes, we know who you are,’ said Gertrude. ‘I hope the life drone did not shock you, we wanted to make sure you were safe.’

  ‘What, the white doughnut things?’

  The two people glanced at each other. Gustav held my arm, which was surprisingly reassuring, as I really didn’t feel all that stable on my feet.

  He pointed downwards behind me. ‘That is the life drone,’ he said. I turned and looked in the direction he was indicating and saw a large white thing, like a giant mattress, that was slowly shrinking beneath the Yuneec.

  ‘Is that what carried me here?’ I asked.

  Gertrude nodded and took my other arm. ‘It might be best if you lay down for a while, would you like to come with us?’

  I didn’t say anything, I just did as I was told. I’d become used to it: emerge from a cloud and have your head done in. By this time it was all part of a day’s work for me.

  So two people in their sixties guided me across the spongy white quilted courtyard toward what could have been a kind of tent, except it wasn’t the shape of any kind of tent I’d ever seen before. It was bulbous and curved and the light reflecting off it was dazzling. In fact I started to wish I had the face-hugging dark glasses that Nkoyo had loaned me in Rio. This whole place was very reflective and I had to half squint my eyes.

  As I saw more of it, the thing this weird cloud reminded me of was an annoying ‘art installation’ that Beth had insisted on going to see in the courtyard of Somerset House back in 2006.

  At the time I’d thought the whole thing a huge waste of energy, planning and resources, which Beth said was typical of my narrow worldview.

  The 2006 installation was a great big fabric structure you could go inside and experience different colours. It was so mundane and predictable but everyone else inside was walking around as if they were under the influence of psychotropic drugs. ‘Oooh, wow, look at the colours.’

  Tragic.

  But the bulbous structure I was approaching was enormous, more like the size of Somerset House in its entirety and for me at that moment utterly incomprehensible.

  The gathering of people that had come to see the Yuneec be landed – after all I certainly didn’t land it – stood either side of me and smiled, some even nodding graciously as I passed. It felt like they had come to see some kind of circus freak, and the stares I received seemed to be ones of pity. That flat smile a parent can give you when you’ve flunked an exam. ‘Oh, never mind, darling, at least you tried.’

  Once inside the structure the dazzling light was reduced but it was still very bright; clearly what constituted walls in this extraordinary place were semi-porous to sunlight. The scale of the interior was in many ways more impressive than the exterior.

  First impressions were of a creamy white mall, a kind of busy emporium with many more people inside. This place was crowded and once again the mixture of ages and races was comprehensive.

  ‘Blimey,’ I said, ‘what the hell is going on? Where am I?’

  Once again I felt unsafe, trapped. I could barely walk, the ground was spongy, I couldn’t have made a run for it, it would have been like trying to run across a pile of soft duvets on top of a giant trampoline.

  ‘We will try and explain everything when we get to the sanctuary,’ said Gertrude. ‘Please don’t be alarmed, you are very safe and no one wishes you harm.’

  I liked her voice, she was softly spoken and very reassuring so I tried to get control of my anxiety.

  We passed through a circular entrance into some
kind of inner courtyard. I glanced up and could see blue sky above me. From here we turned through another circular entrance and into a smaller space, a circular room with a kind of raised bench all around the walls. On one side a window, or to describe it a little more accurately maybe it was more a giant porthole or a circular window as you might find in a 1970s ‘modern’ library building. Through it I could see the cloudscape around us. That is to say they looked like clouds but I was prepared to discover they were constructions similar to the one I was on.

  ‘Rest here,’ said Gertrude. They both helped me onto the long bench directly opposite the window and I slowly lay back. I didn’t feel too sure I wanted to lie flat but I immediately discovered I wasn’t going to. My bottom sank into the bench that at a glance had looked quite solid. My back and head were then supported as my bottom sank, my feet likewise were lifted a little and I became engulfed in surprising comfort.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said as I felt my body relax. A massive wave of tiredness overtook me. In the short silence that followed I rushed through a kind of flashback of events that had brought me to this point. The museum, Pete and the team that launched me from the roof, the last glimpse of Nkoyo outside the Institute, flying into the cloud, the violent lurches I felt when I was in the grey dead zone and the sudden burst into bright sunlight and the friendly white doughnuts.

  A woman entered the space, she was dressed head to foot in a white body suit. Her gait was unusual: she lifted her long legs slightly more than you would if you were walking on solid ground. She glanced at me and smiled. I smiled back, I couldn’t help registering that she was attractive.

  ‘This is Ebrikke,’ said Gertrude. ‘She is a specialist.’

  ‘Oh, right. A specialist what?’ I asked. Ebrikke was staring at me without embarrassment and I did notice her very blue eyes were a little bit odd.

  ‘She will make sure you are comfortable,’ said Gertrude.

  So I wasn’t going to find out what kind of specialist this woman was and I suddenly felt like a dental patient who was being reassured before some major root canal work.

  The young woman – once again I had immediately forgotten her name – walked to the far side of the circular space and withdrew a tube, which I hadn’t previously noticed, from the wall. It was a white tube on a white wall so I think I could have been forgiven for not spotting it. She seemed to squeeze the end with one hand while holding a small white bag with the other.

  The white bag filled. It looked like a mini hot-water bottle. She then did the same peculiar walk toward me and held out the bag.

  ‘Please drink this,’ said the young woman.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. The bag had a tube at one end and I put it in my mouth and sucked. It seemed to be cold water and it was just what I needed. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve already forgotten your name,’ I said quickly as she was turning away from me.

  ‘Ebrikke, but people call me Bree,’ she said sweetly as if she were introducing herself to a toddler.

  ‘Thanks, Bree,’ I said.

  Bree reached up above me and put her hand on what I took to be a large white cushion attached to the ceiling above me. It glowed a pale green colour and I felt my body tingle slightly. It wasn’t unpleasant and I wondered for a moment if what I was feeling was a rather base animal attraction to the young woman whose delightful torso was stretched above me. The light in the white cushion faded and Bree looked down at me and smiled.

  She then very gently placed her long forefingers on my temples and closed her eyes. I did feel something at that point, nothing distressing or painful, but something happened. It was a vaguely similar experience to the one I felt when I paid for something in the Squares of London; a kind of physiological wave that ran through my entire body.

  When she removed her delicate fingers I felt more relaxed but very aware of what was going on around me. I stared at Bree’s almost too beautiful face and tried to understand what the hell was going on.

  ‘Very interesting,’ she said after a rather awkward silence. That left me none the wiser. Bree stood up. ‘Everything is as expected,’ she said with a glance at Gustav and Gertrude. ‘Mister Meckler represents no danger. He will now be very tired and should be allowed to rest. I will return to three.’

  Gertrude and Gustav nodded and clasped their hands together awkwardly. ‘Just so,’ said Gustav.

  I tried not to turn and look as Bree left the circular room.

  ‘So, Gavin,’ said Gustav, who had been watching her leave. ‘I am very glad we got to you in time. It’s been a bit of a race to get here first.’

  ‘A race?’

  ‘Don’t concern yourself with it,’ said Gertrude, patting my arm. She turned to Gustav and shook her head. ‘He doesn’t need to know details just now.’

  ‘What details?’ I asked. This was beginning to sound a bit worrying.

  ‘As Ebrikke just stated, we have anticipated that you will be very tired,’ said Gustav. ‘I just want to say that you should relax, you can take your time and allow yourself to rest. The stress of coming through the cloud was no doubt an intense exercise and there is no need for you to be anxious. You are very safe and nothing untoward is going to happen. Relax and we will talk later.’

  ‘Am I on a cloud?’ I asked.

  ‘Cloud Nine, correct,’ said Gustav, and I noticed Gertrude touch his arm again.

  ‘Let’s not stress him with confusing information now, he needs to rest.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to be any trouble.’

  ‘You are not trouble,’ said Gustav, ‘we are very delighted you could join us. Sleep. When you wake we will talk.’

  The weird thing was, when I initially arrived on Cloud Nine I didn’t feel in the least sleepy, far from it. I was jagged, I was pumped, my brain was running at full pelt, struggling to take in the extraordinary place I’d once again ended up in.

  As I lay back on that squashy yet firm bench I was fully alert but I must have fallen asleep at a quite astonishing – and on later reflection possibly narcotic-induced – speed.

  3

  Waking up in gardenia was, looking back on it, no big deal. On that occasion I awoke in an actual bed in an actual room made of stone and wood and some kind of carbon nano-fibre insulation. But the room had walls, a floor, a delightfully carved wooden ceiling, doors, windows and most importantly it was on the ground.

  Waking up in the Institute in London was, admittedly, a bit weird but I was still in a room with straight walls in a building in a city. A city that was also connected to the ground.

  Waking up on Cloud Nine was a bit more of a challenge.

  I was ensconced in a white supportive bench made of an unknown but possibly intelligent material that was in turn encased in a circular, semi-spherical white room with a round window looking out on to totally static clouds. When I say static, they weren’t moving across my limited field of vision, I stared for a long time and they didn’t seem to budge a millimetre. It was like looking at a well-lit high-definition still image of clouds.

  I was alone in this chillingly calm space. I didn’t suddenly jump up and run around in a panic, I stayed still simply because I didn’t know what to do. I mentally retraced my steps as I tried to get a grip on the situation I found myself in.

  Once again the forlorn hope of flying out into the sky above Didcot Power Station in 2011 fell away as this time there was no moment of doubt as to where or indeed when I was.

  Coming out of the cloud and seeing blue sky and clouds I could, I reflected, have wondered for a moment if I was over Didcot once again; however, the presence of a couple of dozen white doughnuts flying alongside me soon put paid to that delusion.

  I had then been taken over by some sort of flying duvet cover and deposited on an enormous cloud that was floating a few hundred feet above the ground. I had a vague memory of
seeing the ground below as we approached the cloud. It appeared to be brown and rocky, not green and lush or even urban and complex. It looked like an expanse of scrubby moorland.

  I was comfortable on the bench so I had no great urge to move. I held my breath and stayed motionless in the peculiar white room and concentrated on listening to the sounds around me. I could just hear what I took to be people talking but I couldn’t make out anything they were saying. I started to wonder why I could hear no wind noise, no engine noise, no vibration or mechanical sound of any kind. The thing I was in was up in the air and yet it was eerily silent. I could just make out tiny movements, nothing violent, just faint alterations in the supporting pressure on my back.

  I slowly moved my body to try and get up. Once again I had no idea how long I’d slept and the light coming through the window was no help, it looked exactly the same as when I’d fallen asleep.

  As I shifted my body weight the bench I was lying on reformed itself into a slightly firmer platform supporting my bum. I cannot describe how weird this felt, it was almost as if I was lying on something living; the response was calm but immediate.

  I swung my feet onto the odd quilted-looking floor and stood up. I then sat down again rather rapidly because I really couldn’t get my balance. The floor was squashy; it gave way under my heels and threw me backwards.

  I dropped down on all fours and using hands and knees made my way over to the circular window. It really was like a very big porthole in a ship. There was some kind of transparent material in it to keep the elements out of the room but it wasn’t glass. As I touched it I could sense it flexing under the pressure but it wasn’t some thin, flimsy material. I couldn’t have poked my finger through it, let’s put it that way, it had a density and thickness to the touch although I could see through it without distortion.