ARIA by Geoff Nelder Page B

and starboard, not so much to spill the ever-higher-percent alcohol drinks no doubt being served behind him but enough to satisfy Linus he could fly. As long as he stayed in the air.
     
     
    I T WAS CLEAR G ILMORE DID NOT WANT TO WAKE UP even though Linus shook his shoulder.
    “Ah, you’ve caught me red-handed. Just a few hops in a crop sprayer near Sacramento.”
    “Captain, I need you awake.”
    Gilmore continued talking in his sleep. “What, me?” followed by a soft laugh.
    “I envy your bliss of ignorance, Cap’n, but please wake up.” Linus, stood for another moment before resorting to using a cup of iced water. Through his fuzzy headache, he listened to the drone of the aircraft, some muffled shouting, and the secondary cabin door slamming. He’d locked the security door to the cockpit. He wished it would all go away.
    “Captain...Captain...Gilmore, I need you awake now. Ah, there you are. Do you feel better now? Only I could use another brain to deal with some pesky passengers.”
    “I’m all right, er, Lin...Linton. Give me a few moments to clear my head.” His half-open eyes betrayed his confused state.
    “Captain, we have a problem.”
    “Go on then, L—er, I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
    “Linus Bingham, your co-pilot. What’s your surname, sir, if you don’t mind me asking?”
    “What? Don’t you know who I am?”
    “Yes, of course, Captain, but weird things are happening and—”
    “I am Gilmore Drayton. Get it?”
    “Relieved to hear it. You have no idea the madness going on, Captain Drayton. Can I ask another question?”
    “Hurry up then, man, we have a plane to fly.”
    “Okay. Where are we flying to?”
    The captain evil-eyed the co-pilot long enough for another ten miles of the Atlantic to pass beneath them.
    “Damn you.”
    “You are not on your own, Gilmore. That’s why I woke you. At least half the passengers don’t understand why they’re flying at all. I’m your co-pilot Linus. We are on schedule to Heathrow. I had to check to remind myself.”
    “Linus, I have no memory of you. Nor coming on board.”
    The co-pilot put a hand to his head. “You aren’t the only crazy bastard on board, sir, if you excuse me.”
    The captain found a cup of cold coffee and drained it. “Have we any Pro-Plus?”
    A knock and the cabin door admitted Hazel, after Linus tapped a key. Some strands of hair loosened from their earlier tight creation, Hazel’s eyes fear-widened.
    “Captain, they want you to turn back.”
    Gilmore staggered from such a shocking revelation, and the plane chose that moment to skid over some turbulence. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
    Hazel modified her news. “Not all of them, sir. But most have their homes back in the States rather than Europe. I know it sounds far-fetched but hardly anyone remembers why they’re flying at all. They assume they are on holiday or visiting old family, a few might be on business, but only a handful are sure why and where they are going.”
    “That’s interesting,” Linus said. “In these situations, it is the anomalies that give clues to the big picture.”
    Hazel looked at him with surprise. “You’ve met this situation before then?”
    “Ah, not that I remember.”
    Hazel and Gilmore looked at each other before she said, “I was referring to those who have diaries, NoteComs. Having said that, I suppose it might be worthwhile asking if any of the 250 passengers are definitely not affected. Are we turning back?”
    “Certainly not,” said Captain Drayton. “To break from a logged flight plan needs all kinds of permissions from air traffic control.”
    Linus, hands gripped on the control stick, spoke up. “Gilmore, I have a feeling this computerised aluminium tube won’t let us do a one-eighty on its pre-programmed course. Not that I’m in agreement with turning round.”
    “This whole situation is terrible,” the captain said, collapsing into his plush pilot’s chair.
    “Hey, Gilmore, keep it