Freebird

I laid there on a pret­ty poor excuse for a bed, a rein­forced plas­tic bed affixed to the wall with hinges and held up on the oth­er side by two chains.  attached to the wall. It’s more the sort of thing you would change a baby on. The rest of the room was equal­ly as uncom­fort­able. A plas­tic antique chair, and a table also held up by hinges and a chain that dou­bled as a win­dow cov­er when lift­ed up. The room cer­tain­ly wasn’t designed for com­fort, it looked more like a prison than a trainee pilot’s room. The edges on every­thing were sharp and point­ed, and the air had both a chill and a stale smell. My head itched from the implants, my arms and legs were bruised. I could under­stand the neur­al inter­face they had installed in my brain; the tech­nol­o­gy allowed me to feel through my planes sen­sors, allowed me to inter­act with the onboard AI and allowed me to fly the plane with the grace and ele­gance of a bird.

just then I looked up as two short robed peo­ple entered the room, one slight­ly taller than the oth­er. The two peo­ple looked like looked like monks in their maroon habits. The robes looked out of place in the bleak, dilap­i­dat­ed envi­ron­ment.  they told me to get dressed and meet them out­side in 15 min­utes. The robed peo­ple were hard to tell apart, they spoke with scan­di­na­vian accents, very monot­o­ne and with­out much expres­sion. One appeared to be a man and the oth­er a women.