by David Hockey
present time. The reporters knew exactly what he was describing; they too felt a dream-like quality about the day. They hurried away, using flying leaps to speed back to their office.
A wave of blackness suddenly overcame Sam and he almost fainted. He had been up since daybreak, had had no breakfast nor lunch, and had been exerting himself violently for several hours. Emotionally he was drained and could not take any more. He stood up, feeling so light-headed that he knew that he had to eat and rest, but not wanting to leave his many new friends. He moved slowly, trying not to look at the excited acrobats, following the paths to the edge of the park and then shuffling his way along the road to his home. The front door step was almost too high for him to master. He entered, closed the door and sat quietly in the kitchen. After a while he filled the kettle and set it to boil to make tea. He reached for a loaf of bread, opened a packet of cheese and began to eat.
As daylight moved around the world, on every continent and in every city, town and in almost every village people began leap-flying. Nowhere were there any clouds; everywhere seemed to be an ideal day, with a curious, golden, spring-like quality. National holidays were called; it was almost impossible for anyone to resist the urge to fly.
Night fell only too quickly and people went to bed, excited and happy. To be able to fly! It couldn't be possible, yet they themselves had done it! What would the next day bring? How far could they fly if they trained? Could they commute to work by flying? The air would be crowded; aerial traffic signs would be needed. Flying would become a major Olympics event. Maybe people could use sails and fly across the oceans.
Sam did not awake until nine the next morning and then felt chilly and weary. His muscles and bones ached and pained. He had badly over exerted himself the day before. But as he lay in bed he recalled what had happened; the enchanted beginning, the wonderful morning, the crowds of people and the tiring walk home. He wanted, yet feared, to try flying again, leap-flying as it was now called. He got up, carefully, using the furniture to ease his weight from foot to foot as he pulled on his trousers. He needed no excuse to skip his exercises, he must have carried out a month's worth of exercises the day before. He moved gingerly down the stairs, along the hall and out into the garden. He just had to try flying again. He took a small leap. It didn't feel right. He tried again, without success. Was he too tired? He felt a bit panicky. He must be able to fly. He would feel so foolish if everyone else in the world could now fly and he couldn't. May be he just did not have enough energy. He would eat breakfast and try again afterwards.
He went indoors and switched on the radio. Every station he tuned to was discussing leap-flying and giving the latest distance and height records. He switched on his television. Pictures from many parts of the world showed the latest feats. People could join together and lift quite large objects; twenty young men could lift an automobile.
There was a knock at the door. A TV crew with cameras. Sam did not want to talk to them. They wouldn't go away. Sam went outside. They asked him to demonstrate how it had all started, to show them how he had learnt to fly. He told them that he couldn't just at that moment. He explained that he had tried a jump, before eating breakfast, and he had found that he couldn't even move off the ground. He felt too tired: he was eighty, didn't they know? He was sure that he would be able to fly again when he was stronger, maybe tomorrow. They wouldn't let him go and pulled him away from his door. Sam, thinking that they would leave if he demonstrated, gestured people away and took a few painful hops, failing miserably. It was clear to everybody now that something was wrong. Sam said that the day felt different to him somehow. The golden sunshine was missing, and the sun seemed a little cooler. He needed to rest. They should come back tomorrow. Everyone was quiet, even the reporters had little to say, and this time no one stopped him from entering his home. He went inside, shutting and bolting the door and then closing the curtains of the downstairs windows.
In the afternoon his garden and the road was crowded with reporters, news cameras, police and spectators. People were talking together in little groups. Those on the outside edge of the crowd were jumping, taking short flights, just filling in the time until Sam came out.
Sam emerged. He looked so frail under the cameras and barrage of questions. He spoke, but that was not what was wanted. Reporters wanted to record Sam in action and demanded that he fly, saying that he must re-enact the beginning for the world to see and so that a record could be made for posterity. Hesitatingly he stepped away from his door. A space was cleared and he moved onto the lawn.
Sam jumped, achieving no more than a little hop. He tried harder, managing to clear a tuft of grass. He tried once again, with no greater success. Someone tittered and there was a short laugh. Tears came to Sam's eyes. He tried a run and jump only to fall over. The crowd was silent and a fear fell over them. Sam could no longer fly.
Television and radio carried the story around the world. It seemed curious but insignificant; one eighty-year old man was unable to fly.
But it wasn't insignificant. People remembered that this was the man who had first flown and they wondered. They wondered if they, too, might someday become unable to fly. They stopped listening to the radio, stopped watching television and went outside to reassure themselves. Suddenly, like a disease, anyone hearing that Sam could no longer fly was similarly unable to fly. Those who were still flying were told what had happened when they next spoke to someone who knew. They, too, then found that they had taken their last flight.
The day ended in world-wide sadness. People didn't want to see others, to talk to anybody or to go anywhere.
Sam, too, was sad. This was not the way it happened in his dreams. When he dreamt of flying he woke up happy. He decided to go to bed early. He would dream again and maybe things would turn out properly the next morning.
Sam died in his sleep that night. No one knew if he dreamt of flying again. His death was reported. There was a long, long period of mourning. But that mourning was not for Sam, no, not for him.
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