The Death of Megapolis

There it was again right on cue. Every morning, almost like a reliable alarm clock, the heavens would scream. The high-pitched screeching sound of jets shooting across the vast morning sky became almost as natural as the singing birds one would normally hear a few years back. You never see them though, the jets. The sound travels in a heartbeat but at the same time linger for what feels like whole minutes. I don’t know if it’s because they flew at such superior speeds or if they were hidden behind the grey blanket of thick bog and clouds but you never actually see the planes.

An acquaintance from work once started talking about this, he said: “All our jets are extremely advanced!”

“Our?” I thought to myself but kept silent as he continued with his story.

“Each plane is equipped with high-tech cloaking devices. The enemy never see it coming!”

The enemy, huh? I wonder what that must feel like for them. We never really see it coming either but at least we have the security of trusting that our own troops won’t attack us at the break of dawn. What if the first sound you hear in the morning, the mind-numbing shriek of a metallic dragon soaring at tremendous height and speed above your head, was also your last? What would have run through their minds in those last few moments of helplessness and acceptance?

Sometimes, in random parts of the day, the sound would keep replaying itself over and over in my head. I’d grit my teeth and clasp my ears like that would have made any difference. People would gaze at my direction, stop whatever they’re doing for a few seconds to ponder and then everything would go back to the way it was. Not a single question, not a single frown. I wonder what they were thinking in that split second of suspended time.

It had been a few minutes since the last of the jets had flown over and straight out of our city when I finally realised that I was standing in the middle of the pavement, unmoving as the world continued working about me, and that it had started to rain. I didn't have my umbrella with me.