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> Home Made Tales, The journey
peter.howden
post Today, 09:37am
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JIM; Behind the 8 ball.


Jim stepped down from the train, instantaneously knowing where he was heading, where he must be at a precise time for the sake of the mission, but more important, for his destiny.

For years, every movement, every thought, every counter was focused on this moment. Each person had played a vital part though no one could take the honour… or agree responsibility for such extreme actions now taken, except it was the very core of their country’s ideals, and dreams for future prosperity… had been since God knows when.

Jim was well aware he would be a fish out of water… yet had calculated, so many times, when things kicked in after the first switch, then it would be inevitable that his pre training and guides from officials, and of course the ever-present clergy, would automatically follow its wake. Every stage had been minutely inspected… every error being accounted for, and counter acted upon. Nothing was laid to chance. Nothing.

Jim, although checked to be A1 fit, was under no allusions of coming out alive. Was God out there and what was the purpose? Would Jim gain a glance of heaven, or could it be Elysian field or plain Zion, though he preferred “Valhalla”, believing, with some justification, he had a touch of Viking blood not too far down his hereditary roots. The trouble with this type of rational, before the mission, spaced him out, leaving room for error… and he could not afford this. Jim had to display courageous poise right through to the end.

He had not always been of this frame of mind, often demonstrated he was not wishing to be “Part of a team” and done things he would rather not contemplate. So now was his point in time, his ultimate sacrifice for his country, his family, his extraordinary extravaganza Nirvana, and finally deemed for the good of all mankind.

As a daily habit, Jim had practiced every step, so not to faultier on the day the regulator would send him, alone, soaring way past any conception reasoning could give ordinary minds failing to fathom why. Once that button was activated, no power on earth could cancel or react the laws of nature taking over. Every member of the lift off team had strict instruction as to what, where and how, they responded to all final commands, to insure everything would go without a hitch.

Jim’s health was central to the mission as checks would take place almost up to the critical moment when the button was pushed, to be dead certain he was in tip top condition modern science could place him. It was seen as unrealistic or even cruel to continue if he was not A.1… but more important, the mission could well be put in danger.

Jim was alert stepping forward, though his vision was blurred as automation took over, sensing exactly where he should be while the members of the crew worked fast and furious insistently precise. Each man singled vision his own particular duty and instruction that combined into a synchronized act as one. Jim was helped into his cockpit as the forces around him apparently gripped his muscles making him as stiff as a corpse. Huge amount of activity was obviously happening all around this central spot, strapping him to his chair in preparation for take-off. The delicate helmet placed carefully so nothing would interfere with the final countdown.

For a split-second…Jim’s mind wandered while his gullet was near boaking with the mere exertion he was about to face. That would be embarrassing. His life flashes by in one corner of his mind though he fought against it, for this was not the time for regrets. His vision was still hazy, a good omen as he may very well weaken if he saw what was about to happen, thankfully something alien was blocking his eyes to open up to his surroundings.

Then suddenly; a massive surge of power, and an odious smell;

It was announced…. Prisoner number 238956 was executed, this morning, in the Electric chair.
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