Aberration

1. Prologue

Adam leaned away from the aisle, uncomfortably balancing against the cold aluminium armrest between a heavyset older man to his left, fiddling with a wireless headset, and a seemingly lost man carrying an oversized tote to his right. The man with the tote turned about several times in confusion. Adam sighed and gently pressed his hand into the tote, stopping it from smacking him into him as the man turned again and started back against the tide of travellers coming down the aisle.

Cold, stifled air crept through the cabin as the flight attendant at the front of the plane shut the door. The din of the travellers' conversations around him took on an artificial timbre, reverberating from the stiff plastic interior of the aircraft. Adam reached up to shut off the air conditioning, but found it twisted shut. A soft tone played indicating someone had already pressed the flight assistance button somewhere else in the cabin.

Adam hated flying. He had always hated flying. It was an ever-intensifying mystery to him how, over the years, the experience of buying a ticket, boarding a plane, and travelling across the country could somehow become progressively worse and more expensive with each passing year. It was as if the various airlines competed over it. Adam sighed again as he balanced against the armrest to make room for a tired-looking woman dragging her screaming child behind her to the back of the cabin.

"This one's gonna be rough, huh?" The older man to his left slid his headphones around his neck and closed his eyes with a smile, as if listening to music. His faint brown hair faded to grey at his temples, lending him some dignity despite his stained, blue button-up splattered with palm trees on a beach scene. He had boarded with socks and sandals, though now the latter were stuffed under the seat in front of him. The scent of beer and menthol wafted towards Adam, carried by his gravelly voice.

"It's looking that way," Adam replied, sparing a slightly forced smile as he adjusted for another person moving down the aisle.

"You gotta book in advance," the man said, a hint of playful scolding in his tone.

"I did," Adam replied again, curtly. The torrent of bodies bustling down the aisle finally slowed, presumably due to the lost man from earlier blocking the aisle as he struggled to fit his tote in the overhead compartment.

"Well, you gotta get the window seat," the man chuckled. The child's screams peaked toward the rear of the plane. Adam rolled his eyes and fell back into his seat. That wasn't exactly sage advice. The choice came up every time he flew: Pick the window, and you dodge the other travellers during boarding. Pick the aisle, and you don't have to climb over someone else to go to the bathroom. A seven-hour flight seemed long enough to justify the aisle seat this go around, but time would tell whether or not his choice was right. The man seemed to be waiting for a response.

"You don't say," Adam finally replied. He hoped his dismissive tone would end the conversation for the time being.

"I do," he confirmed, confidently. "Ron." After a brief pause, he gave a tug on the collar of his themed shirt and sheepishly added, "Trying to make the best of every last second of my vacation time." Adam nodded understandingly. A talker. He began readying himself for small talk.

"I'm Adam. Nice to meet you, Ron. You, uh... vacation here a lot?"

"Yep!" Ron replied. He began patting his pockets, shifting left and then right as he struggled to fish around his weight for something. Adam waited, unsure if Ron was continuing the conversation or not.

"Ah! There we are!" he finally said, drawing a silver blister pack from the thigh pocket on his worn, grey shorts. He pinched one of the blisters and popped a small, white pill free. He leaned his head back and tossed the pill to the back of his throat with more than a bit of eagerness. He let out a pleased sigh. "Now I'm ready to fly," he added with a chuckle. Adam forced a laugh.