Death of the Republic Read online

  Passengers crowded the center aisle, lifting overstuffed carry-on bags over their heads and cramming them into the storage compartments above. A mother with two small children, a boy and a girl, grabbed at her kids as a grumpy balding man attempted to slide past them. Two serious-looking army dudes wearing full fatigues sat near the front. Both of them just stared straight ahead, not even looking at people as they walked by. I don't know why, but their presence made me nervous. With my bag held out in front of me, I managed to squeeze through a gaggle of older men who'd decided that their loud and apparently hilarious conversation needed to be had while also occupying most of the center aisle. I glanced down at my boarding pass for my seat number: 31B. Six rows behind the loud old guys. I was second row from the back, middle seat on the left side of the plane. I coughed a wet cough into my hand. A lady with an unfriendly face looked up at me with disgust as I walked by. Somewhere in the distance behind me a baby cried bloody murder. I was happy that baby sounded as though they were seated on the opposite end of the plane from me.

  I reached row 31. The window seat was occupied by a guy who looked to be in his 40s, but clearly wanted everyone to think he was still in his 30s. His skin had that look of someone who overused lotions or skin treatments. His face was smooth around his eyes and his forehead, almost creepily so. He had a dark stubble beard that had been so well-manicured you'd swear the facial hair had been drawn on. He wore thick-rimmed black glasses with wide lenses. The kind of glasses you weren't even sure the person actually needed, but wore more for the style. He had on a black v-neck t-shirt and dark jeans and a pristine Yankees ball cap. He looked up at me with a slight smile as I stuffed my bag into the storage bin and then went back to staring at his phone. If I'd had a sense of smell in that moment, I'd imagined that he smelled of lavender. Just something about him. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and ducked under the compartments and shimmied into my seat, saying nothing to my hipster seat partner. As luck would have it, the person seated directly ahead of me had their seat back reclined a few inches stealing whatever little leg room I'd had from me. Plus, the hipster to my left had decided he was most comfortable sitting with his legs spread as far apart as humanly possible, so no matter what position I'd attempted I could not find a comfortable way to place my legs. My knees stabbed with pain from the seat-back ahead of me, and I wanted to ask the person to put their seat up, but I didn't want to start the flight off on a negative note with this person ahead of me thinking I'm a jackass. I suppose really, that person was being selfish, but I was too shy to say anything. One of the many frustrations of being me, I suppose. I did my best to ignore the knee pain and the cold shivers and the head and body aches and all the rest and start downloading Clackzi.

  I opened my app store and as soon as I typed the letter 'c', the name of the app appeared in a clickable link. I touched the link with my index finger and I was taken to the download screen. I hit the green 'DOWNLOAD CLACKZI NOW' button and my phone's screen went completely green and a small blue countdown timer displayed at the bottom-right showing the download's progress. Setting the phone on my leg, I pulled out a tattered tissue and blew my nose. More snot came out than I'd realized would, and I did my best to keep it concealed in the pathetic little tissue. I glanced to my left to see if the guy next to me had noticed. I saw his phone's screen was also all green and the blue timer on his phone had almost completed counting down.

  He pointed his well-moisturized finger at my phone. “Clackzi, right?” He spoke to me in a deep baritone and as soon as he'd opened his mouth I'd noticed he was chewing gum. It reminded me of my throat lozenges. I pulled the small pack out of my pocket and popped one into my mouth. The cherry medicine flavor melted into my tongue and slid down the back of my throat.

  “Yeah,” I said, “you're downloading it too, I see.”

  “Been waiting on this for months,” he said. “It's gonna change everything, my man.”

  I didn't really want to have a conversation with this person, but I was too afraid of being perceived as a jerk to tell him as much. In a situation where you're going to have to sit next to a person for a few hours, how are you supposed to tell them you don't want to speak to them or have them speak to you? I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was just something about the guy I didn't like. Maybe it was that he came across as phony or disingenuous.

  He held out his hand to me. Clearly, he must not have noticed I was sick as a dog just yet. “Name's Jeremy,” he said as I shook his hand.

  I really didn't want to be talking to this guy, or anyone for that matter, but there I was – trapped. “I'm Matthew,” I said and then I coughed hard into my arm. The people in the row ahead of me each turned their heads slightly, probably annoyed to be seated in front of a sicky like me. I had hoped that maybe the guy directly ahead of me would've taken my cough as a cue to move farther away from me by putting his seat back in its upright position, but no, of course not.

  “You don't sound too good,” Jeremy said.

  I nodded. “I've definitely felt better,” I said.

  “Maybe you should take something.”

  Take something? Take what? Last I'd heard there was no cure for the common cold. Though if you'd heard Solomon Gwent talk at his ridiculously overblown press conference you'd think Clackzi would cure that and more. Jeremy's phone let out a gentle chirp. The app had finished downloading for him and he turned his attention back to the device. I looked at the little blue timer on my phone and it indicated I had another 60% to go.

  The last of the travelers made their way onto the plane. A young woman walked stiffly down the empty center aisle carrying two paper bags. She wore a silky shirt with a pinkish floral pattern. The shirt hung at odd angles and looked ugly as sin to me but was probably some kind of fashion forward garment that I was clueless about. She reached our row and I could see she had on royal blue pants and yellow shoes. Her tousled blondish hair and round face made her look like an eleven-year-old boy with terrible taste in clothes. But then, I remembered thinking, what eleven-year-old boy doesn't have terrible fashion sense? I did my customary 'hello' nod as she pushed her paper bags under the seat ahead of her and she sat to my right on the aisle. She didn't so much as smile in my direction as she did tepidly throw a look my way to acknowledge my existence. Whatever. I just wanted to get the flight over with. Jeremy meanwhile had sat up straight with his body half-turned in my direction. He reached across in front of me with his limp, tanned hand extended to the woman.

  “Jeremy,” he smoothly in-toned.

  “Maura,” she replied, shaking his hand.

  Nervousness gripped me. I now felt obligated to introduce myself to this odd creature. I wasn't sure given how ill I felt, that initiating a handshake was the best idea, but I felt I had no choice as this point without appearing to be a total jerk. I put my hand out and she placed her dry, cold palm in mine. “Matthew,” I said.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said in a completely non-believable tone.

  “You too.”

  Great. With that out of the way, I picked up my phone and saw I still had 40% left to download. Jeremy had put his phone back down. He looked at me looking at my screen. “Can't even use the thing right now,” he said. “Clackzi's taken over. It's in the middle of customizing.”

  “Cool,” I said, not really knowing what else to say.

  “As long as it's done in time for my conference call,” he said, “it's all I care about.”

  “You talking about Clackzi?” Maura said to Jeremy, as though she hadn't heard him say as much a second before.

  “Yes,” he said. He noticed she was sitting with her legs crossed, her hands neatly folded in her lap, with no cell phone or other electronic device in sight. “You're not interested in it?” He asked.

  Maura turned her shoulders slightly toward him. “I already have it,” she said. “Downloaded it prior to boarding. You know they're going to come around and have everyone switch their phones off.” She shifted her eyes toward m
e. She blinked one of those long blinks someone does with their eyes when they're speaking to you in a condescending tone. “You should probably turn your phone off,” she said to me.

  I was a bit thrown by her assertiveness. Who the hell was she? “I will,” I said. “I'm just waiting for this to finish. Hoping to text my girlfriend before take-off. Let her know I got away okay.” The last of my lozenge was gone and my throat throbbed as though rusty swords were scratching and hacking away in there.

  “Your girlfriend?” Maura said, sounding disgusted. “You mean, your partner?”

  Oh god, what was this? Already, I was regretting getting on this flight.

  “I'm sorry?” I said.

  “You said 'your girlfriend',” Maura said with a frown. “I think you mean, your partner.”

  Wow, that's what I could remember thinking right then. Wow. “Yes, my partner,” I said. “Sure.”

  “Don't worry, dude,” Jeremy said, tapping my shoulder. “I knew what you meant.”

  What else could I have meant? “What I meant?” I said, “I'm just talking about my girlfriend.”

  “Just?” Maura said. “Is she your concubine?”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “This is supposedly someone you love?”

  “Yes,” I said, “I love her.”

  “Well, she isn't 'your' 'girl' 'friend',” she said holding up her fingers to make quote signs with each word, and she spoke in a spiteful, mocking tone. “She isn't 'yours'. She's your partner. That is, if as you say, you love her.”

  I coughed slightly as I let out a sigh. I was in no mood to deal with a conversation like this. We hadn't even started taxiing out to the runway yet. Capitulation was the best strategy, I felt.

  “I suppose you're right.” I hoped in saying it that would be the end of the conversation.

  “You suppose?” Maura said. “I am right.”

  “Okay, fine.” I looked again at my phone screen. Another 20% and I could use my phone again.

  “Let me guess,” Maura said, “you voted for Howell?”

  The person seated directly ahead of me turned and looked back at me at that moment. I could hear his reedy voice speak to me through the crevasse between his and the seat back next to him. “You voted for Howell?” He said.

  Full disclosure, as if it matters, I didn't. But feeling as though I was on my death bed or not, I was pissed off that this conversation was even taking place. I had no time for manufactured drama. Still, instead of outright denying that I'd voted for the man, I felt I had to take a stand on principle. “What?” I said, looking at Maura. “What does that have to do with anything? All I said was I was looking forward to texting my girlfriend, sorry, partner, and somehow that means I voted for Frank Howell? And really, why does it matter who I voted for last election anyway? And what business is it of yours?” Then I looked at the weaselly man ahead of me, “or of yours for that matter.” My throat was killing me. I thought the entire thing was going to pop out of my mouth as I coughed hard into my arm. The man in front of me turned back around and sunk into his reclined seat.

  “So, you did vote for him then,” Maura said, “I could totally tell.”

  “I wasn't going to say anything,” Jeremy said, “but I'd thought it too when you first sat down.”

  What the hell was this, the Inquisition? “No,” I said, “I'm not saying I voted for Frank Howell for President, I'm saying what difference does it make? And why is it any of your business who I voted for?”

  “All I hear is excuses,” Maura said, “typical misogynist.”

  “Excuse me?” I said, anger rising up inside.

  At that moment a flight attendant appeared in the aisle. She held out a genteel finger in my direction. “Sir,” she said, “if you could turn your phone off, please, we're about to take-off.”

  At this point any niceness or pretense I'd had was thrown out the window. “We haven't even left the gate yet,” I said, pointing out the window.

  “Sir,” she said more firmly. “I know you're probably trying to download Clackzi like everyone else, but we're going to need you to turn your phone off, right now.”

  Maura looked up at the attendant and folded her arms. “Don't mind him,” she said. “He likes to control women.”

  CHAPTER 4

  The plane had pushed back from the gate and we were slowly moving forward toward the runway where we could finally get the craft off the ground and I could finally get this nightmare over with. My phone sat 'off' in my pocket. It steamed me a little that this guy Jeremy to my left had had his phone out the entire time the flight attendant had been standing next to our row, and she didn't once ask him to turn it off. The good news was, she did tell the guy ahead of me to put his seat back in its forward position. My knees were thankful for that, though not completely out of the woods as the row itself wasn't wide enough to completely accommodate my height. Jeremy had stopped spreading his legs so far apart, so it meant I could spread mine enough to reduce the pressure on my poor knees. It felt good to be able to spread my legs apart, but I was quite conscious of not having my right leg move too far over toward Maura's side of the arm rest we shared. She came across as a pretty intense person, I didn't want to give her any reason to speak to me again. I had hoped that little episode where I'd been labeled a sexist Trump supporter would be the end of it.

  My migraine was in full effect. The edge of my vision was blurred. My sinuses were so clogged I was forced to breathe rather loudly through my mouth. I tilted my head back onto my head rest and wished I could recline my seat, hoping that somehow I could fall asleep and wake up in beautiful Miami. A chill ran through my body. I looked up and noticed Jeremy had his forced air fan on full blast, pushing a constant steady stream of cold air down onto him. Of course, the nozzle on the fan wasn't perfectly aimed to just hit him, the air was also flowing down on me too. I could feel the coldness cascading down over my head and down my neck and my arms. I really wanted to say something to him or even just reach up and twist the nozzle so it directly was aimed at him, but I felt too shy and self-conscious to do anything. The plane had stopped its forward progress for a moment. The flight attendant who had spoken to me before was once again in the aisle next to our row, though she was speaking to someone in the seats across from us. When she turned from them, I raised my arm to get her attention. She seemed less than enthused when she noticed me. Great, had this Maura person somehow planted a seed in this attendant's head that I'm a woman-hater? “Pardon me,” I said, “would it be possible to get a blanket?”

  “Not right now, sir,” she said, “you'll have to wait until we're in the air.”

  “No problem,” I said, “thank you.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she muttered and disappeared in the back of the plane.

  “You cold, my man?” Jeremy said.

  “I'm just not feeling too good.”

  “Wait,” Maura said, “you're sick?”

  “You couldn't tell?” Jeremy said. “Just look at him.”

  The people in the row ahead of us again turned their heads, clearly eavesdropping on everything being said and looking at me with judgment in their eyes.

  “I'm feeling a bit under the weather, yes.”

  “Great,” Maura said, “you know it's entirely selfish to travel when you're sick. You've basically exposed us and everyone around you.”

  “She's right,” said the weasel in front of me.

  “It wasn't my plan,” I said, “I didn't start feeling this way until I'd arrived at the airport.”

  “Still,” Maura said, disgusted. She pushed the button above her to page an attendant. The same young woman responded to her call.

  “Yes?”

  “Yeah, can I switch seats?” Maura said. “This one is sick. It's really important I not catch whatever he has.”

  “I understand,” the attendant said. “I think our flight might be full, but let me check on that. You'll have to wait until after we've taken off though, okay?”

  “F
ine,” Maura said, “let me know.”

  Jeremy sat forward in his seat and looked at Maura. “Good call on that,” he said, “I might do the same.” He looked at me out of the side of his eye. “No offense,” he said. I just nodded placidly. I didn't have any desire to sit next to these two anyway. Just the opposite, in fact.

  The plane made a couple of turns and came to a stop. I looked past Jeremy and could see out the window we were sitting on what looked to be a wide runway. The engines began to roar and the craft vibrated. Slowly we inched forward and then the speed really ramped up in a hurry. I know people always say the take-off is the most dangerous and vulnerable part of any flight, but for me it was definitely the most thrilling. Even as terrible as I felt I still had a bit of adrenaline racing through me as the plane sped faster and faster down the runway until our surroundings turned into a blur and I got that dizzying rush as we lifted off the ground. A minute later you could hear the metal clang throughout the cabin when one of the flight crew announced the seat belt sign had been switched off. She then gave the all-clear for people to use their cellular devices and I swear the entire plane grabbed their phones in unison as soon as she said it, probably most of the flight crew too for that matter.

  I pulled out my phone and switched it on. The last of the app downloaded pretty quickly and as soon as it finished my phone vibrated and the screen went blank. I sat the thing on my lap and waited for whatever process was happening to complete so I could text Kathy and let her know I was officially on my way to Miami, oh and I was sitting amongst crazy people.

  A tone sounded from the ceiling of the cabin above and a man began speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Ben Berard your captain. On behalf of RepubicAir and our dedicated flight crew I'd like to welcome you aboard Flight 318 direct to Miami. Looks like fairly clear skies between here and south Florida making for a relatively smooth journey. However, the weather report in Miami does appear to indicate overcast skies and a good chance of rain prior to our arrival time. As I say this, though, the Clackzi app on my phone is indicating we will have clear skies by the time we touch down at Miami International, so you can take that information for what it's worth.”