Philomena’s Observation Book, Sunday 1

Philomena vonHedwig smiles

Sunday
Last night, or this morning, I suppose, for it was after midnight, I made my way to the fabrication hall to see what could be done with the wings. I removed the silk covering (which is both fire and vinegar proof. I checked.) The Grandmothers’ silk is remarkably tough, and I believe I can repair the covering with the scraps I have left.

There was damage to the left wing due to a rock outcropping it struck during the plummeting phase of my brief and over-exciting voyage. I believe it was that impact which broke my stunned reverie, reminding me to employ my parachute. I had been madly trying to diagnose the failure of my flying apparatus on the way down, with little thought for the end of my journey. For that wake-up, I was most grateful to the rocky outcrop. I was less grateful now. The left wing was crumpled from the elbow joint to the tip. No wonder I’m sore.

I remember extending and flattening the wing profile to slow myself down, once the parachute was open. It worked – I could feel the drag of the wind pulling at my arms. Drag, but why not lift? Looking at the undamaged wing, I began some calculations comparing the proportions of a vulture’s wing vs body weight and size to my own. (I used a vulture because it was easy to get one; they cluster on the roof above our room now, watching the ravine and the Philly Flyers.)

I don’t know how much time passed then, for I am seldom aware of time while I am working, but after 7 pages of scribbled maths, sketches and questions, I became aware of a new light source in the room. Although hard at work, I noticed my pencil had an extra shadow, and looked up to find the source of the interruption.

My eyes beheld what I took at first to be some form of Greek God; Adonis in a school tie and Norfolk jacket, complete with broad shoulders and wavy hair.  I admit, my normally steady scientific mind went whizzing along unused paths, and my stomach felt as though I was once again plummeting.  I forgot the pain of my body and the shame of my mind, even forgot how to calculate descent rate. He seemed to give off an otherworldly glow as he advanced. Was I awake, or dreaming?  Then I saw the hideous white blob on his lapel.  A badge.  A badge of enameled copper in the shape of an open parachute.  Awake, then.  Awake and persecuted.

My mouth snapped shut and I furiously returned to my notes (even though the simplest calculation had abandoned me), and in my haste knocked over my candle and released the vulture, which squawked as it lurched off the table and emptied its bowels on 2 pages of calculations.  I froze in horror.  Far, far too late to dive under the desk, I tried to camouflage myself with immobility, like a rabbit in the road, and with the same chance of success.   No where to hide, and running away is so undignified.

The God approached.

This story began here and continues with Sunday, part 2.