Day 06 - Triumph of the Absurd

            The last plane out of Singapore is flagging, its nose drooping as columns of billowing smoke from the ruins of history’s wealthiest city-state rises through the Boeing’s airspace. The pilot is slumped over in his chair, half asleep, doped out on daydreams and drowsiness. He is not really seeing his surroundings. To the best of his knowledge, the alarm bells are going on in his waking dreams, not the cockpit around him.

            Then jets of hot air from the smouldering wreckage boost the plane high into the air. The autopilot activates, and the pilot leans backward, snoring.