Rodrigo Culagovski

The metallic snap of wings unfurling. The rush of air cutting off as my drop is arrested, and then silence—my heartbeat louder than the voice in my ear, “Manuever Manifold. Execute. Inform ready state,” in the sing-song voice of people who command others for a living. #microsff #microfiction

I see the dozens of void-globes that hold the City aloft, and wonder briefly what it would take to pop each one. I turn up the gain on my audio feed and use the code my system snooped during the trainers’ outbursts to override their feed and send my voice out to my flightmates.

The metallic snap of wings unfurling. The rush of air cutting off as my drop is arrested, and then silence—my heartbeat louder than the voice in my ear, “Manuever Manifold. Execute. Inform ready state,” in the sing-song voice of people who command others for a living. #microsff #microfiction

Some shoot each other, some crash, the rest suddenly decide the ground is their target and accelerate towards it at ten times terminal velocity.

The metallic snap of wings unfurling. The rush of air cutting off as my drop is arrested, and then silence—my heartbeat louder than the voice in my ear, “Manuever Manifold. Execute. Inform ready state,” in the sing-song voice of people who command others for a living. #microsff #microfiction

A stream in my top-left vision shows me how I look. I spin faster and my figure blurs, but I set my forerarms to glow crimson in synch with the turns—the X is steady and pulsing in four directions. “Shoot her down!”

The metallic snap of wings unfurling. The rush of air cutting off as my drop is arrested, and then silence—my heartbeat louder than the voice in my ear, “Manuever Manifold. Execute. Inform ready state,” in the sing-song voice of people who command others for a living. #microsff #microfiction

I spin around my vertical axis, slowly at first, knowing that hundreds of cameras, real and virtual, official and pirate, are watching me,

The metallic snap of wings unfurling. The rush of air cutting off as my drop is arrested, and then silence—my heartbeat louder than the voice in my ear, “Manuever Manifold. Execute. Inform ready state,” in the sing-song voice of people who command others for a living. #microsff #microfiction

“I don’t care, she’s making a mockery of the Prime's nameday celebration!” The loud ping in my left ear. My servos and electroskeins react, or try to. My will is stronger.

The metallic snap of wings unfurling. The rush of air cutting off as my drop is arrested, and then silence—my heartbeat louder than the voice in my ear, “Manuever Manifold. Execute. Inform ready state,” in the sing-song voice of people who command others for a living. #microsff #microfiction

Mothers dream of their daughters becoming Angels, a life of beauty and grace and honor. They count coins to pay for lessons, agents, entrance exams. Almost every mother’s dreams puncture and die. “She’ll fall!”

The metallic snap of wings unfurling. The rush of air cutting off as my drop is arrested, and then silence—my heartbeat louder than the voice in my ear, “Manuever Manifold. Execute. Inform ready state,” in the sing-song voice of people who command others for a living. #microsff #microfiction

And me, flapping my wings slowly, steady, hovering in place, my face calm, my arms loose by my sides.

The metallic snap of wings unfurling. The rush of air cutting off as my drop is arrested, and then silence—my heartbeat louder than the voice in my ear, “Manuever Manifold. Execute. Inform ready state,” in the sing-song voice of people who command others for a living. #microsff #microfiction

My fellow CityAngels, proof that anybody, no matter their birth, can be raised up to great heights, taking flight as a living symbol of the Hope that the City and its Council holds for All Humankind. “Send the override signal to 13. Now!”

The metallic snap of wings unfurling. The rush of air cutting off as my drop is arrested, and then silence—my heartbeat louder than the voice in my ear, “Manuever Manifold. Execute. Inform ready state,” in the sing-song voice of people who command others for a living. #microsff #microfiction

People moving up and down. The VIPs in private floats, eating food with colors and smells, looking out AR-windows that hide the umbilical tubes pushing workers along with peristaltic motions,

The metallic snap of wings unfurling. The rush of air cutting off as my drop is arrested, and then silence—my heartbeat louder than the voice in my ear, “Manuever Manifold. Execute. Inform ready state,” in the sing-song voice of people who command others for a living. #microsff #microfiction

New Stalk City sprawls above and beneath me. Cables and aerial tracks. Floating, rainbow-slick bubble-villas where the uber-rich families ignore the ninety-nine percent who don’t so much live as survive in grey, boxy, windowless containers tied to the Stalk.

The metallic snap of wings unfurling. The rush of air cutting off as my drop is arrested, and then silence—my heartbeat louder than the voice in my ear, “Manuever Manifold. Execute. Inform ready state,” in the sing-song voice of people who command others for a living. #microsff #microfiction