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                         Underground eXperts United

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         [  Last Flight To Keflavik  ]               [  By The GNN  ]


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    ____________________________________________________________________



                           LAST FLIGHT TO KEFLAVIK
                             by THE GNN/DCS/uXu


                                will you destroy your fears
          or will your fears destroy you?


They needed three people to carry me off the plane. Two by the arms, one by
the legs. A fourth steward went in advance and repeated with a servile tone
that "we are so sorry, so sorry, so sorry...", while I kept on singing (or
whatever that wicked noise that streamed out of my mouth deserved to be
called)...

   boys boys boys
   I'm looking for the action

   ... pissed beyond belief, courtesy of the free drinks offered by British
Airways on transatlantic flights. I did not remember any of that. But I got
to read all about it in the morning paper the next day.
   "Your paper, SIR!" someone screamed and threw the paper right into my
face. I instantaneously regained my consciousness, and found my self
sitting/lying on a comfortable chair in the first class lounge of the
airport. The paper woman, a member of the lounge staff, gave me a look that
could kill on the spot. I smiled and nodded a thank, while she resumed
handing out papers to the other travelers.
   "Your paper, sir..." she said with a sweet voice to the man beside me,
and continued in the same manner around the lounge.
   Everyone in the salon eyed me as if I was a criminal and murderer. I
wondered where I was. And for how long I had been there. Judging from the
number of empty glasses on the table in front of me, I had been here for
quite a while. What had been in the glasses was not hard to determine; oh
damn, what a hangover.
   I dared not interrogate the people around me concerning my present
whereabouts. I knew what such a desperate manoeuvre would lead to. The
stiff upper-lip suits would not answer, merely grunt and tell me to be
quiet. If I pushed them, they would explode and clarify what a filthy swine
I were. Oh yes. I had experiences.
   So, instead I opened up and hid behind the paper, and the first thing
that caught my eye was a huge photo on the front page which neatly pictured
me being dragged off the plane, pissed beyond belief as said, singing some
old hit from the golden eighties. Unfortunately, the adherent article
explained, I traveled first class, so they could not just dump me on the
street; no no - they had to carry me into the lounge on the airport, where
I at once had ordered the whole bar and consumed it in less time than it
takes to blink your eyes.
   Maybe they exaggerated. But I am not sure.
   Yes, dear reader, I am back; the alcoholic courier, who have been all
over the world but merely seen airports. Yes, dear reader, I am back. And
moreover, it turned out that I was back on the Keflavik airport on Iceland,
the place where everything started going wrong for me many years ago. You
might think it was nothing special, that dark night when I sat by the huge
panoramic window and watched the planes come and go, drinking (at those
days, I merely sipped) a cheap bottle of booze, and suddenly encountered
this man who did not use his mouth for communication, merely little white
cards, six of them to be exact... (well, if you happen to have forgotten it
all, consider "The Strangest Thing Happened in Keflavik", uXu file #434.)
... and the things that happened afterwards. The man gave me his sixth
card, and it actually said nothing at all, and I was ordered to return to
the United States by my sneaky boss, who conspired to fire me. But hey, I
got away pretty neat, right? (Okay, if you do not remember this either,
consult uXu file #455: "After Keflavik".)
   Yes, dear reader, I am back.
   For the last time.
   I stared at the photo for several minutes. A strange experience, to see
yourself like that. Sure, I look myself in the mirror ever morning (if I
happen to snooze at a place that actually have one). But the face I see
there is always the same; it is always the same expression, in the same
kind of hard bathroom light. I have never noticed how my face has changed
through the years. Once upon a time it was fresh and clean and carried that
rosy glow on the cheeks that signaled strength and health, youth and
future. Now, when I saw myself on the photo, I realized that I was old.
Very old. Not in years, not in experiences, not in education, not in life.
In some other way. I was like a piece of metal that once upon a time had
been told that it was forever unbreakable, but after years of unhurried
bending had wore down to a lethal fatigue. I was about to crack, any day.
I sighed heavily, let out a series of coughs from the deepest realm of my
torso, and put the paper down on my lap. I wondered what I should do, my
head was a mess. The answer came quicker than I thought. Two huge airport
guards emerged in front of me from nowhere.
   "Sir..." one of them said, rough European accent.
   "Whiskey! A double!" I replied.
   "Uh, well, of course. But not here. You have been here for thirteen
hours and you must..."
   I felt no urge to converse.
   "Right! I got it! Thank you!" I interrupted.
   I rose from the chair. My head entered a spin, and I fell backwards onto
the chair, coughing like a victim of TBC (again). The guards helped me to
my feet.
   "You okay, sir?"
   "Yeah, yeah..."
   I walked right through between them and headed for the exit of the
lounge. Two glass doors opened as I wandered around, and I concluded that I
had found the way out. As I was about to leave, one of the guards yelled:
"Sir! Your luggage! Sir!"
   I turned around and saw the guard trying to pick up my suitcase for me.
His face became red, then blue, but he never got it off the floor. It was
far above the approved weight for air travel, but I had got it on board by
claiming that it was light hand baggage. (I wonder how they got it off?) I
went over to the guard, and picked the suitcase up with one hand. They gave
me some mighty stares as I carried it away, out of the lounge, and into the
great hall of the airport.
   Damn right, I got balls.
   Messages echoed through the hall, telling travelers where to go next.
People rushed around, trying to find the correct gate. From distant places
somewhere outside the building, the sound of jet engines boosting to
maximum effect could be vaguely heard. It was as usual. I had experienced
all this before, many times. Too many times. It was always the same. I was
sent somewhere, waited at the airport, dropped a package, and took the
first flight to some other destination - where I waited, dropped and left.
I went over to a row of seats and put the suitcase down. Then I looked out
through the huge panoramic window. It was dark outside, and I saw nothing
of interest, mostly because the bright lamps in the ceiling just made
everything in the hall behind me reflect back. I put the nose to the
window, and the hands to the sides of my head. It rained heavily outside,
and a strong wind made the drops fall horizontally.
   "Hekla", a weak voice said behind me.
   An elderly stocky lady swept the floor with a broom. She looked at me,
and repeated: "Hekla". There was not a sign of feelings in her voice. She
had probably worked for too long and too hard, like me.
   I looked out again. But now: far away, somewhere by the horizon, I saw
an gigantic fountain of fire rise to the sky. Earth had once again
exploded. Hekla, the majestic volcano, it was a marvelous sight, even from
here. This was truly the land of fire and ice.
   "Fantastic..." I whispered, and turned around to share this moment with
the informative cleaning lady.
   But she was gone.
   And he was there.
   He stood very close to me, too close for comfort. His appearance was
just as I remembered. Dressed in black. An unchanging smile on a mild face
that seemed seriously interested in everything I did. I gasped.
   He did of course not say anything.
   It took a while before I managed to communicate: "It's you, again."
Guess what? He put his hand down the coat pocket and picked up a little
white card. He held it up, so I could see it.
   It said

   YES

   Oh, great. Yet another turn on the scene of craziness in progress. I
carefully stepped to the side and slid down on the seat, right next to my
suitcase. He also sat down, in front of me, slowly, never letting his eyes
leave mine.
   I patted my hands nervously on the knees.
   "Eh... it has been a while."

   YES

   "What have you been up to? Anything special?"
   I do not know why I kept on talking. I knew what the man was about to
say. He had six cards (YES, NO, SOMEWHERE, SIX, NOTHING - and that sixth
card that had a comprehensible statement printed on it, but really said
nothing at all).

   NO

   No! No! Enough, I thought. Not one more time! My life had become a
living hell after I had met this maniac the first time, and I did not fancy
a rerun. Okay, so my life could hardly get any worse, but you never knew
with this blockhead around.
   I flew off the seat, grabbed the suitcase, and planned to bail out as
soon as possible.
   "Nice to meet you, but now I must..."
   The man gently put his hand over mine on the suitcase. Before I had the
chance to punch him in the face, he pointed at the suitcase with his other
hand. And then at himself.
   I sank down on the seat again.
   "Don't tell me the package is for you?"

   YES

   Right. Down to business. Strictly business. Get this over with. Quickly.
Then leave. Never return. Demand to be sent to Asia. Follow the approved
procedure: hand him the invoice together with a pen and instructions.
"Sign there, and there and there."
   And so he did. Then I overturned the suitcase so it fell flat on the
floor. I opened it up for him. The brown paper package inside filled it
completely. I pushed it over to him with my foot.
   "There you go. Keep the case."
   Now leave. Quickly. But I did not. I remained in the seat. Yes, I should
have left. I should have just walked away. But the thing is - I died to
know what was in the package.
   The man did not keep me on tenterhooks. He immediately tore it open.
Guess what? The package contained cards. Thousands of them. Maybe millions.
  "Of course" I concluded. "Of course. What else?"
   The man gently picked up a bunch of white cards and scrabbled through
them, put them down, picked up another bunch and did the same thing. It was
as if he counted money. Then he suddenly found a card which he apparently
liked. He did not show it to me. He put it up side down on the seat beside
him. Then he continued to examine the cards. After a while, he found
another card that he liked.
   He replaced the stack and held up the card he now had in his hand.

   I HAVE WAITED FOR THIS DAY TO COME

   Then he reached for the card on the seat.

   I HAVE WAITED SO VERY LONG

   I nodded, but did not mean anything with it.
   "Yeah, right. So - now you got a million more cards to play with. What
will be your first move? To turn some other poor bastard insane?"

   NO

   Emotions overwhelmed me from nowhere. Life poured out of my body. I
buried my hands in my face.
   "What is the damn point!" I yelled. "Why don't you just speak! I know
you can! You have told me so. Well, you used a card to tell me that but...
anyway. What is the POINT? WHAT IS THE DAMN POINT?!"
   My words bounced back and forth in the building. Everyone must have
heard me. I did not care. I did not care about anything, any more. As I
realized that, I understood that I had not cared about anything for a long
time.
   The man patted me on the shoulder, as if he tried to comfort me.
   "Is there any sensible explanation..." I mumbled. "Any truth...
something... anything... "
   His hand left my shoulder. When it had been gone for a while I raised my
head. Through my fingers, guess what, I saw the man hold up a card.

   YES

   "There is?"

   YES

   "Tell me! Please, tell me! I can't stand this any more!"
   The man raised a finger and bent down to pick up yet another stack of
cards from the brown package. He cautiously examined them, one by one.
Minutes passed. He did not find what he was looking for, so he put the
stack back and brought up another one. One by one, he studied them. Minutes
passed, then hours. As there were thousands, maybe millions, of cards in
the package, this would certainly take some time. Days, maybe months.
Years? Who knew.
   But I would wait. I had all the time in the world. I had also waited for
this day to come. For so very long. But you, dear reader, have other things
to do. Let me not waste your time. Rush out in the real world of yours. If
you want me, you know where to find me. I will not leave this place for
quite some time, maybe never.

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 uXu #499              Underground eXperts United 1999              uXu #499
                     http://www.uXu.org/ - info@uxu.org
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