9^th may, 2011

Water patterned with rainbow colored streaks and swirls of gasoline washed over the Cessna. Somehow Heidi managed to grab hold of an aileron and then pull herself up into the orange life raft. Its low sides would be no protection against even moderately choppy seas, but it floated. Fortunately, there were no waves. All around, as far as the eye could see, stretched the ocean, as calm as a meadow. There was nothing except water and light.

The captain played the piano.

Heidi prayed to God that the Cessna would not sink straight away. First, she would be easier to find the plane was visible to aircraft and ships. Second, the rising wind and waves might carry the life raft away, and then the coordinates she had radioed to Hawaii would seem muddled. Rocked by the waves, Heidi held on to the stabilizer. It was the last service the plane could do her.

A horror of Earth’s boundless expanses brushed against her consciousness. Not long before she had been sure that nothing could be smaller than the world she sped over on the wings of her Cessna and her youth. After all, she had an engine at her command. Late twentieth century man’s belief that the world is ridiculously small was firmly embedded in her soul. That belief, along with her stamina, served Heidi well. She believed that another minute would go by and a ship would appear on the horizon. Or a plane would appear in the sky. Or some kind of sailing vessel even would show up. Or, a submarine would surface, for goodness sake! Youth has a right to count on that, too.

But hope and reality are different things. Hours went by and nothing changed. Heidi had crashed in one of the most deserted areas of the Pacific Ocean.

From – No Man Is An Island

Written by Gennady Bocharov