Cloud Nine

Hammond was quite literally walking on clouds.

Not just because today was day one of his big promotion. He was moving out of the mail room and up to the 113th floor of SkyCap Industries — 97 floors and 4 cubicles closer to Julie than he ever thought he’d be. He tried not to think about her too much, to not be weird about it, but he couldn’t help the way his pulse spiked every morning when he caught sight of her; the swaying of her short, orange hair as she stood before him in line for the bagel cart, or a few paces away at the crosswalk.

But also, because that was where he lived: on the clouds in the sky. 52 Silver Lining Lane, to be exact; one of the many high rises that floated high above the long abandoned earth — or at least, what remained of it. The fluffy white platforms held steadily in the air were water dense enough to keep people bouncing along it’s surface, much like he did as he walked towards work that morning.

Hammond was so happy that not even the sporadic rain drizzle and sudden, smacking winds could bring him down. It was mid February, and the draft was stronger and quicker than ever. Early spring always did that; the rain and flowers came with swift breezes that could turn into wind storms at the drop of a hat (usually his hat, flying off his head and into the abyss); the cool and warm currents wrestling with each other in the jet-stream until everybody lost. He wrapped his trench coat tighter around himself, flipping the collar to stay warm, even if it made him look like a distinctly less-cool Inspector Gadget.

Hammond hadn’t broken any rules or stepped on any toes to get promoted: entirely the opposite. He had never broken a rule in his life, never so much as jay-walked across a street or forged his mothers signature; he’d never gotten a parking ticket or a school detention or even a reprimand. When he once accidentally kept a library book one day overdue in third grade, Hammond wrote the librarian a handwritten apology letter, including a notice that he had grounded himself until he learned his lesson.

He’d followed every rule in the SkyCap Mail Handler’s Handbook until his boss noticed his unflappable precision, time management and paper folding skills. Or, more specifically, until said-boss decided anyone who cared that much about their job deserved to expend their efforts somewhere far above the mail room, and called in a favour upstairs.

Hammond was mentally quizzing himself on the SkyCap Junior Data Analyst’s Handbook for his first day when he spotted a familiar gleam of colour among the white cloud road and sleek silver buildings. Julie, in her windbreaker and slacks, struggling with the wind even more than he was. She had her arms raised in front of her face as if she was fighting off a bear instead of a strong wind. There was a small umbrella in her arms, that suddenly jerked and flipped inside out, before being carried away on the breeze altogether. She turned to watch it float off forlornly. The defeat in her eyes made his chest hurt.

Julie soon realized Hammond was there, a few paces behind, staring at her. They both looked away too quick to see the other blushing. She recovered first. “Oh, hello, Hammond. Good morning. I was just mourning my third umbrella this month. I ought to start buying them in bulk.”

“Never a bad idea, that,” he replied. Small talk didn’t come easy to Hammond; not like numbers or rules. Unambiguous, clear as day. He liked that about them. Humans, on the other hand, confused him. Small talk and double entendres fuzzed up his brain, made him feel like he was watching everybody else from the inside of a fish bowl. Few people didn’t make him feel like an outsider to the party of life, like someone who showed up after everyone had already learned the punch lines to all the jokes and didn’t care to explain them to him. Julie was one of those few — maybe even his favourite.

She smiled. “I’m sure you’d know where I could get the best deal for my dollar around here, don’t you?”

“$6.98 for a 3-pack at Weatherby’s when they go on sale, or $9.75 year round. You might also try the camping supply store, though I don’t keep up with their flyers.”

Julie chuckled lightheartedly. “Of course you would know that. We’re lucky to have your talent for numbers upstairs now. Someone’s gotta do it.”

They shared a brief, conspiratorial smile, and he racked his brain to think of something else to say, to prolong what might have been their longest and best conversation to date (she had laughed!) but by the time anything came to mind, the building’s front door was already swinging closed behind her.

Other than several fleeting, orange-haired bright spots in his day, work was as it ever was. No job was really so different from the others when all you cared about were facts. Water cooler chit-chat didn’t come easily to him, but two different people had approached him for questions about their spreadsheets or taxes already, so he was starting to wonder if there was more than one way to fit in.

The next morning the street car glided along the tracks and swayed softly at the whims of the breeze. Hammond listened to the radio through his headphones like he did every morning. And now, the weather. We’re in for another windy one, folks. Storm Charlie is coming faster and faster. Seems like it’ll land before this weekend. Stay inside, and stay safe.

Later, walking behind Julie among the field of skyscrapers, Hammond wondered how he might leverage his ‘gift’ to make himself useful to her. Maybe she needed help with a spreadsheet or tax form? He made a mental note to try and find a super casual, super chill way to ask about her personal finances and data organization next time they spoke. He was still thinking on this when a particularly strong breeze swept past. It lifted his hat right off his head, and he had to reach up at the last minute to push it back down.

Julie was not so lucky.

Her beanie twirled on the breeze, up and down and just out of reach like it was in the hand of a playful toddler, until it suddenly blew upwind and over Hammond’s head. Julie ran after it in his direction until the cap disappeared around a corner. She slumped her shoulders. “I’m two for two. This is getting embarrassing.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he answered matter-of-factly, “The wind is tricky. I’ve lost several hats in my day and a few scarves. Even a notebook, once.”

Julie fell into step beside him. He tried to ignore how all his senses angled themselves in her direction, like she was the only thing in the world.

“Yes, well, this isn’t my first hat either. But I’m glad I’m not alone. This storm is ruthless. Earlier I swear I felt my feet almost come off the ground!” She laughed at this, nose crinkling. He could no longer remember his super-casual, preprepared lines about fiscal responsibility.

“I’m sorry to hear about your hats — and your floating. Try to stay safe until the storm passes. Maybe wear heavier shoes.”

He hadn’t been joking, but this made her laugh, which bloomed something warm in his chest, so he laughed, too.

“Well, I suppose I’ll need to keep someone around to keep my feet on the ground. Preferably someone who can also tell me where to get the best deal on bulk hats…?”

She was looking up at him with a gleam in her green eyes, something he couldn’t quite place at first. It took him a second, but then he smiled in understanding.

“I happen to be very good at both of those things. When should I start?”

It continued on like this throughout the week.

The storm would churn ravenously outside as they walked, eventually carrying off Julie’s necklace or shawl, and they would talk about it the rest of the way. They smiled at each other from across the work room and spoke briefly when she passed his desk. On Friday, she even took the seat across from him at lunch like an old friend, unwrapping her sandwich and complaining about a client and entirely making his day. He even found a chance to use what he practiced when she offhandedly mentioned expense reports.

“I also happen to be very good with numbers, if you ever need help balancing those.”

“Well then,” she gave him another catlike smile, one that threatened to stop his heart. “I suppose I should have you come over some time and give me a hand. I’m dreadful with numbers, but I make a pretty good lasagne. Would you accept that as payment?”

He couldn’t remember a day when he’d smiled so much. He didn’t even remember what he said back to her. But the high of the interaction kept him on cloud nine all day.

Hammond stayed behind even after most of the office was gone. He wanted to finish his current project before he left, something he was prone to do even down in the mail room, even if it took all night. He was thinking to himself what a cozy evening it would turn out to be when he caught bits and pieces of a conversation happening two cubicles over.

At first, it was more of the usual nonsense — undecipherable things about ‘smoke shows’ and ‘dime pieces’ that he tried to tune out — until one name drew him back in.

“No way Julie would want to go out with you.”

The words were so pointed that Hammond had to look up to make sure they weren’t talking to him, but the men paid him no mind.

“Just wait and see, man. I’m asking her at lunch tomorrow — or maybe I’ll see her on my way home. Either way, I’ll be dating that chick in no time.”

Hammond was struck with a sudden, inexplicable urge to be very, very annoyed. Not just because he was repulsed by how they spoke about her like some inanimate object, but also because he was planning to ask Julie out. The nerve! Did these men not see the thing they clearly had going on? Or maybe they did, and wanted to beat him to the punch?

Hammond couldn’t focus anymore, even after the two men left in the elevator. He could no longer focus on numbers or procedures or weather warnings. Storm Charlie had arrived in full force; everyone was supposed to stay inside as much as possible these days, save only for brief walks to their door or transportation. What he was planning to do would surely break these rules — maybe several of them. Memories played on a loop in his mind until a decision was made.

Hammond clicked off his computer and headed for the door.

Hammond knew after years of walking to work that Julie lived in the building one over from his. The wind was rough and crude, bumping into him until it almost toppled him over and then ricocheting down the sleeves of his coat until he was frozen through and through. But this didn’t deter him at all. Hammond had gotten a taste of what it felt like to feel the warm sun warm on his face and sweet butterflies in his stomach. He wouldn’t let anything stop him for going after it. Not even — for the first time in his life — a rule.

He buzzed the intercom of Julie’s apartment building. She sounded shocked but not upset to find it was him on the other end.

“Hammond? Oh! I’ll… I’ll be right down.”

There she was less than five minutes later, holding a sweater tight around her forearms by the front door. There was a scaffolding to keep them from the worst of the rain, but the wind howled until it drowned out every last word of his awkward first attempt at dating. Part of him thought it was for the best that she didn’t hear any of it.

“I’m sorry?” Julie shouted back, “What did you say? Something about a goat?”

He tried again, shortening the message and much louder this time. “Would you like to go out with me? Perhaps this weekend? I’d be happy to help with—”

But he never did get to finish that last sentence.

Another gust of wind, more forceful than all the rest, suddenly came hurdling towards them, low and fierce until it had swept Julie’s feet off the ground. She screamed and Hammond reached for her hand — just a second too late. He held only her fingertips, just enough to feel them slip from his grasp. Julie was gone, carried up and over and away across the blue sky until all that was left was him and the howling wind.

Hammond stared at the empty space where she had just been until his brain finally processed the events. Had it been seconds or minutes? He wasn’t sure. Fractions of sentences came back to him. Julie’s soft voice, I’ll need to keep someone around to keep my feet on the ground. He had failed her. And then glimpses of school lessons and radio segments he’d heard over the years. They say all winds land in the same place; somewhere at the end of the earth, but no one has ever survived and come back to tell the tale. We don’t know where they land — or what happens to the ones they carry away.

Hammond couldn’t bare to think of Julie out there, alone and stranded in whatever purgatory the winds would drop her. Just then, he caught sight of something in his periphery. The camping supplies store, just a few doors down. In their front window sat something big, triangular and orange.

Hammond steadied himself on the edge of the roof. The glider was strapped to his back and a hastily purchased first-aid kit to his front — just in case. The cashier at the camping store hadn’t seemed to know what to make of his latest customer; but it didn’t matter. Hammond was out the door before the man could even offer him change.

And now, here he was. Waiting for the perfect breeze to take him along — to take him to Julie. He didn’t have to wait long.

Hammond suddenly lost his balance, felt the ground disappear from below his feet and his heart drop into his stomach.

And then he was flying.

The winds carried him on his glider as far as they could go, past dozens more cloud cities that looked just like his own. From above, he could’ve sworn he saw himself walking a few paces behind Julie one last time. It all seemed so tiny and insignificant from up here, even the fear and self-doubt. The storm gripped him tight, carrying him on the breeze like a boat on water.

Up, up, up until the sky darkened and down, down, down until he could smell the ocean breeze, until it was nighttime, and the full moon was shining among the stars, and he was sure he would both never land and never see Julie again. He looked desperately for any sign of her. His only hope was the steadfast feeling in his gut, assuring him he was on the right track.

Hammond closed his eyes and felt the wind on his face. I broke a rule and it immediately ruined my life. But I’d rather be flying up here than wandering around hopelessly down there. Even if I never see Julie again, even if this is how it ends, I don’t regret it.

Hammond soon fell asleep to the hum of the storm, chilled to the bone but more alive than he’d ever been.

He woke up hot.

Warmth seeped through every inch of his skin, from the soft bed beneath him to the heat pressing down from above. It reached for his feet, delivering the strangest sensation that finally woke him, made him realize it wasn’t all just a strange dream.

The sky was so bright he couldn’t open his eyes without the shield of his hand. Sitting up, he realized the cushion beneath him was actually sand. The thing lapping at his legs was the ocean. One shoe was missing, his glider and kit nowhere to be found. His clothes were ripped and his entire body ached — but otherwise, he was entirely intact. For a dead man, he didn’t feel half bad.

Hammond was amazed by the water before him. He’d never seen so much of it in one place before, the unending gorgeous azure. It reminded him of the stories from his childhood, of what it was like to live down on earth all those centuries ago. He wished he’d paid more attention in school, knew exactly where he was. In the distance, a lonely, torn up notebook. Even after the promotion, I’m farther down than I’ve ever been, he thought with a wry smile. Still, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. He’d half expected to wake up in a giant birds nest.

A sound to the right surprised him. A stirring down the beach, a flash of technicolour. Someone sitting up, admiring the sunlight rippling across the ocean. Thinking about how she was feeling pretty good for a dead woman. The breeze rustled her hair, and she turned.

They shared a long look.

Hammond was wondering how she felt, and how he might navigate this rejection when they were likely the only two people on this island — on earth — when something remarkable happened.

She smiled at him. Warm and relieved.

He smiled back.

There were, after all, worse ways to spend forever.