The old timers were gathered as they always do at this time of year to celebrate their traditions. Traditionally being the commemoration of their great battles from which they’d earned their wings. In their minds they had learned how to fly for that moment and they’d proven their worth through combat in the protection of the nation. Regardless of anything else nobody could take from my father and his men the fact that they were jet fighter pilots. He was the driver of an eagle. On its wings did he bring things to their maker.

So there he sat with his old friends and companions reminiscing about sand and cloud. Engines so loud, sea salt and open sky to unmatched views of the stars and moon above the clouds at midnights crest. He said he was the best, he’d profess, and they’d all cow and croon debate their own merit for such a title to make their own. Throwing things and laughing regaling their memories of a time long past.

“Dennis, damnit, you’re full of shit. I was the one who had your six and I’m the one who kept them off you to do all that bullshit. They wouldn't engage because I was there. It was a turkey shoot cuz of me.” Arnold demanded. Exasperated. He was always this way. Trying to steal the lime light from my dad. A now ancient rivalry between two ace fighter pilots that will never die. It’s were they found life I think. Forbes could only pretend to be sure but that’s how he felt about it.

“Arnold you son of a bitch I was the tip of the spear. I flew in ahead of you and there is a reason you covered my six. It’s cuz you’re slower than me. Even in that machine you manage to lag behind. You must really have loved staring at my ass all these years cuz you’ve covered it always.” Father replied with a raucous laugh.

“Or maybe the faster one trails behind cuz they’re able to catch up? Ever think about that you flying lead weight. You were always penny pinching on the gas. Always overly concerned about miles left. Never trusting the engines. I’m telling you now I’ll tell you again. We could have gone faster. We shoulda. Those planes are meant to go faster. Damn the plans we should just boomed through the lands at top speed and really shown the world what was possible.” Arnold goes off into a diatribe.

“Now listen to you, you’ve really lost it. Not even caring about the tactics anymore you’re a hopeless romantic. Time has changed you from fighter pilot to lover diet.” Father chuckles. “Though it’d of been real fun to go full throttle down that low. Break some windows, chuck some cars and goats around.” He laughs.

Forbes just walks past the two as he brings in a new bottle of bourbon and places it on ice between them.

“Here it is sir, I’ve to go to class now I’ll see myself out.” Forbes states to his father in a professional manner. Drilled into him by his father as he preferred to be addressed in a more formal way to mirror his military hay day. He was an officer after all not simply enlisted. He demanded the respect beyond deserved it.

“Ah, Forbes, thank you my boy, see my finest achievement beyond all that flying barbarism. He’s gonna be a surgeon. Kills me a little he’ll never know the joys of flight but what does it matter when he’s gonna be a doctor right?” Father states to Arnold as he uncorks the new bottle and pours them each a drink.

“He’s gonna be a champion boxer too boy, hey, you’re next fight is coming up are you nervous?” Arnold inquires.

Forbes can feel the vein on his forehead flinch. This guy would love it if I lost he’d hold it over fathers head and if I win he’d love it again cuz he’s inside the crew and knows me. Been around me and helped raise me. So annoying.

“He’s a doctor first. I don’t care for his side passions. Especially ones that could be detrimental to his studies. Forbes, tell me again, why the hell does it make sense to risk it all for a hobby?” Father states again unable to hide his annoyance with me. He’s never really approved of the boxing. He’d relented thinking I needed to learn to defend myself but when I proved to be proficient beyond anyone’s imagination it evolved into something way beyond what he’d intended. He wanted me to be a fighter pilot like him. I’d even been in the air force ROTC in high school and continue it into college. I could enlist as an officer if I wished upon graduation. Go straight into the air force with a doctorate in medicine.

It’s just he really wanted me to be a fighter pilot. Though he’s happy I’m doing something intellectually challenging as a doctor. He’s proud of me all the same but the boxing. It drives him insane. He thinks it’s primitive. Simplistic. As if doing complex arithmetic to drop dumb or smart munitions onto a target to compromise their life isn’t just as barbaric. No matter how much science you hide before it. Whatever. I want to save people. My father killed people. That’s the difference between a sword and shield I suppose. The difference between a generation. These old dogs barking at one another I don’t hold any contempt for them beyond the sternness of being brought up by an officer of the air force.

Besides, he doesn’t realize that him and his old buddies have been my muse all my life. They might have discovered flight before me in their mechanical machines but I’ve studied biology and the sciences for a reason. Computers a capable and cool and 3d printing and the ilk are so much fun. I’ve won so many fights and purses I’ve made purchase for my passions. My main passion to fashion these wings. I want to try to modulate onto my back. Fly like dad. Artificial but based on reality I’ve built these wings I virtual reality and have been printing the components off. Training the ai based off of formulas passed down between fighter pilots and their internal codex’s.

I’ve access others don’t and I utilize it. Might be stealing but who stole the flame to ignite humanity into its domain? I’ll steal the feather cuz it’s of peace and fly us into a better future of peace. So I’m in the basement now. My can-tinkering station. Hidden behind layers of plastic cling to by clamps to keep the environment sterile. A sign of no trespassing. Beware of dogs. I’ll become the eagle he flew and I’ll show you how it’s done.

I’ve just finished figuring out the makeup of these nanotubes and the weight coefficients and maybe look at little Patty’s feathers again under that microscope I got dad to get me ten years ago. The bird squawks. My pet parrot. She is genius and I love her. It’s sad she has to stoop in this basement discomfort. I’ll get us a mansion and you’ll have all the room in the world the spread your wings in. I’ll protect you.

What limits does a bird have when it is glad and protect and the absurdity of it all it can speak and think. I wonder what it thinks of me. I hope he loves me because I take care of him. It’s such a simple thought but it brings so much emotion into my heart. Anyway…

Old tech is still useful if used properly. I just have to get the design right. It’s a copy but it’s original. I’m no criminal. I’m a doctor an artist. First of my kind I’m going to build the next step in our evolutionary process with these prothesis armed wings attached to shoulder. I shudder. Thinking of Icarus. Thinking of the many videos of flying contraptions bashing to the ground. I hope I don’t embarrass myself.

Whatever, everything is made and it’s time to test out what I’ve done. The algorithm has run through thousands of times I’ve simulated the event it’s been success after success and i don’t know if I’ve miscalculated somewhere along the line but I think I’ve finally crafted it. It’s my passion you see. I want to be a doctor to find out the intricacies behind muscular reflexes and the coding to enact the twitch movements needed to navigate the wings needed to propagate a soaring flight into the nights sky.

I’ve the ai, the materials and the plan. I want to try it out by the docks. Tonight. If it fails I’ll land in water with a splash. Ice cold water to cool the absurdity of my burning imagination. I need to drop seventy feet for it to be totally applicable. It should work sooner but at maximum with my inability to rely on experience I might need all the time I can get. The plan is set I’ll jump from the lighthouse into the water. Lake Michigan I will be embraced and disgraced or I will see you from above with my new invention for the human race.

Forbes laughs to himself it’s so funny. Nobody knows anything about this outside of Money, Lancaster. The demon. He helped funnel the things I need in secret. Told me the idea was genius I just had to believe it. Why would I trust him he’s a mafia underworld overlord? But of course he’s got all the connections I needed to get the help I can where I can. My heart is thumping. Racing. I hadn’t told anyone I’d do it today. This storm from coming in. Might be the gods trying to change my plans. Warn me against improving man by such bounds.

But I stay resolute and sober. In mind and body. It’s my hobby and my life and I’ll do with it why I like. They’ll just have to marvel or intercede. Hopefully the first and not the latter. If the latter in my favor. I’ll say a prayer to the lord before I leap. This night over the saltless sea of Great Lake Michigan I do spot a friend. Hunched over braking stone. Standing alone. Female reflection of Locke. absurd is the word. But we are full of absurdities and peculiarities at this moment. My moment. Of flight.