James awoke the next day thinking of only one thing: the impending stop. He had an almost unbearable apprehension bubbling in his stomach. He wanted to be there, but not out of general eagerness. He was afraid that if he waited too long, if he let the idea that swam in his head simmer for too long, that he wouldn’t go through with it. Several days was a long time to let such a big decision linger in his mind. It was a feeling he found funny, since he had been planning it for roughly a year. It was only now, with the ship approaching the location, that he realized how difficult a decision it was. Could he really do it? Could he descend, on his own, to the surface and prove that life existed beneath the clouds.

With a yawn, he rolled over and peered down at Celeste. She was already up, staring out the window with her head propped up by her hands. The window showed a canvas of blue, disrupted every couple of heartbeats by the ship’s wing, which rose and fell like the wings of a bird. She glanced up at him, locking eyes.

“I was thinking we would go kiting today,” she said, rolling into a sitting position. James had no fondness for kiting—mainly because he had never caught anything before—but he was game for anything that would pass the time. A distraction was just what he needed.

“Sure,” he responded. “Which ship? Twenty-nine or twenty-four?” Celeste pursed her lips, considering the question.

“We’ll go to twenty-four. We didn’t have much luck on twenty-nine the last time we went. Maybe twenty-four will do better,” she said, then noticed James’s skeptical expression. “Don’t worry. Today is the day. I can feel it!”

She clenched her fists and rose out of bed. Though her speech didn’t have much of an effect on James, it seemed to get herself energized. After thirty minutes, during which Celeste spent most of her time trying to get James to hurry up, the two were ascending the stairs up to the hatch. A warm burst of air struck them as they opened the hatch. The force of it made their eyes water. After shutting the hatch and locking it in place, James watched Celeste fidget with something in her pocket. She pulled out a pair of goggles and pulled them over her head to shield her eyes. For most people, goggles were an everyday accessory, however there were some who didn’t bother with them and just dealt with the side effects that constant wind brought onto the eyes. James, of course, fell into the latter group, but not if Celeste had anything to say about it.

“Well, put yours on too,” she said, tapping her foot. James hesitated, not sure of what to do. He hadn’t seen his goggles in weeks, let alone brought them with him today. “Oh, do you perhaps not have them?” she asked in a testing tone. James patted his pockets, feigning an attempt at searching for them.

“I must have left them behind,” he said, trying to sound disappointment.

“I’m sure.” Celeste reached back into her pocket, withdrawing another pair of goggles. She thought about throwing them at him but didn’t want the wind to carry them off the ship and down into the clouds. Instead, she shoved them into his chest. James caught them before they hit the ground. He dragged them over his head, groaning. He watched as Celeste started towards one of the bridges. No matter what I do, Celeste is always angry at me for something, he thought. He wasn’t quite sure whether he should feel bad or mad about that, so he usually took the middle route.

The goggles were foggy, which was part of the reason he disliked them so much. They had been made to protect against both the sun and the wind, so they were slightly tinted, making it difficult to see in the shadier areas of the ships. More than that, he simply liked the feeling of the wind hitting his eyes. Yes, it stung. But it was real. When he wore goggles, it felt more like he was watching everything unfold through a window. He’d have ripped them right off if Celeste hadn’t been with him. He peered at her. She was already close to the other side of the bridge. He hurried to catch up.

After twenty minutes of walking, they reached vessel twenty-four. There was a total of twenty-nine ships in the entire fleet, but only a select few could be used for kiting. The most popular two being twenty-four and twenty-nine. The two ships had been customized extensively to ensure the best chances at catching a jesper. Jespers were strange creatures that had an inferiority complex. Or at least that’s how James always saw it. You see, jespers refused to fly under anything. No matter how high the fleet flew, the jespers would arrange themselves above them. They even had the same attitude towards each other. No jesper flew above another except in an act of aggression. Instead, they all flew at an equal height, rising and falling in unison. To counteract their refusal to fly in line with the ships, large towers were built, allowing people to climb up to their level. The level of the tower didn’t seem to bother them as much as the ship, which James found strange but didn’t question.

The tower rose off the back of vessel twenty-four high into the sky. A stair set wrapped itself around the outside of it, climbing all the way to the top platform. There were platforms lower, of course, but they were hardly ever utilized. The jespers simply didn’t fly that low.

James and Celeste began the climb to the top, gripping the railing that paralleled the stairs for support. The climb wasn’t perilous by any means, but it did give you a sinking feeling when you were walking against the wind and a stray gust threatened to lift you off the ground. Windbreakers had been placed along the stairs to deter this very thing. They didn’t stop the wind all together. Just enough so that you only felt like you were going to lift from the ground but never did. Finally, they reached the top. Though James didn’t like kiting, he did like the view that came with it. The towers on vessel twenty-four and twenty-nine were the only places that you could see the entire fleet. James looked down onto the ships that seemed to bob up and down in the wind, their blades spinning furiously above them and their wings, which numbered up to eight on some ships, waving at their sides. Like a colony of sea turtles, or a series of floating islands, it drifted, as if swimming through the air, above the blanket of clouds beneath them. James had heard that they were originally designed to float in water and sail the seas, but he had trouble believing that. Mainly because it was hard for him to imagine a body of water large enough to fit a ship in. Of all the rumors of the past world, he believed that one the least.

“Which lines should we use?” Celeste asked. James turned to face her. There were ten spools of thin wire that lined the railing on the opposite side of the platform facing out into the expanse of empty air. Ships twenty-four and twenty-nine sat at the back of the fleet, making them good choices for kiting, lest your lines get wrapped around the screw blades of the other ships. James scanned the entire platform. They were alone, which James was delighted about. The less people to see him fail the better in his opinion. Still, he pointed to the last set of spools at the very end of the platform. If someone did come up, he wanted to be as far from them as possible. Celeste didn’t seem to care either way and walked over to the spools that James had pointed at. The two sat down, strapping themselves to the seats. Between the wind and the act of pulling in a jesper from the air, it was better to be securely fastened to the ship. Celeste then reached for a jar that was tied to one of the chair’s legs. This was the part that James hated the most. Celeste popped open the jar, releasing a rank scent of decay and dust into the air. It had never bothered Celeste, but James couldn’t stand it. Dipping her finger into the jar, getting a glob of it on her fingertips. With the other hand, she reached for the spool, locating a hook that dangled at the end of it. She then proceeded to smear the goo-like substance over the hook.

“Here,” she said, handing the bottle to him. James took it, but simply stared at it with a repulsed look on his face. Celeste sighed and baited his hook for him. Celeste slumped back in her chair, having finally finished the preparations. The two peered at the sky, trying to find a flock of jespers flying about. There were none in sight. A silence lingered between them as they waited, eventually broken by James.

“Are you embarrassed of our parents?” James asked. He realized how odd of a question it was but felt it was something he needed to ask. He and Celeste never talked about them, never asked the questions that were too painful. Celeste perked up, initially thrown off by the question. Then, she relaxed, thinking about her answer. A faint smile creased her lips.

“Yes, I think I am. I mean our mother tripped and fell off the ship. A Vinci woman falling to her death. It sounds ridiculous just to say it out loud. And our father, he descended the ladder after her…leaving us behind.”

James stared at her, mouth slightly open, which he immediately realized was a strange reaction. He and Celeste had never known their parents, and neither of them were around to hear what they said. Still, hearing Celeste words, and agreeing with them despite himself, made James feel as if he had betrayed them. “But part of me clings to that embarrassment,” Celeste said after a short pause. “After all, it’s all I have left of them.” She smiled at James, and for the first time, he saw that a smile could express sorrow just as well as it did happiness. James said nothing, fearing that speaking would only ruin the sentiment of what she had said. In some weird way, the silence spoke louder than he ever could. The silence, however, was fleeting.

“Well, if that isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve heard all week!” a loud, burly voice said behind them. James and Celeste turned around to see Bron standing behind them.

“You could have told us you were behind us!” Celeste said, frowning and red-cheeked.

“I was just about to, but then young Jameson brought up your parents, and well, it just didn’t seem right to disturb that,” Bron said. James could see a moistness to Bron’s eyes. Though, whether that was due to sadness or to the wind, James didn’t know. Bron had never fancied wearing goggles. Perhaps that’s why James always found himself “forgetting” his. Still, if the watering of his eyes was from sorrow, James didn’t doubt the source was his parents. He had heard, in passing, that Bron, Jarl, and many others on Vessel Nine had been their friends. Not unbelievable, since they had all grown up in the same ship. It was rare that people transferred to other vessels. It only happened under special occasions.

Bron took a seat next Celeste, who turned away with a look of defiance on her face. Bron’s explanation clearly hadn’t satisfied her. Bron paid no mind. His focus was directed outward towards the line of the horizon that separated white from blue. He reached down to the container of bait that was secured to his own chair leg and brought it up. Rather than popping open the top, he slid open a compartment at the bottom, taking a pinch of the dust that sat inside. James and Celeste watched as he sprinkled it into the air.

“So soon?” Celeste questioned. “We haven’t even spotted any.” Bron shot her a sly smile.

“They’ll be here in two minutes,” he said confidently. Celeste shot him a skeptical look but said nothing. James was hardly listening, still thinking of his parents. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed,” Bron said after a few seconds of silence. “About your parents, I mean. Two of the greatest Vinci citizens I’ve ever met. Mark my words, if she tripped, then you could put any other in her place, and they would have fallen just the same. Incredible woman, she was. May look like Celeste, but she took very much after you, Jameson.” Bron laughed, reliving a memory in his head. “I once caught her flying on the deck.” James perked up, looking at Bron with wide eyes.

“How?” James demanded.

“She had sewn bed sheets into her clothes between her arms and torso and between her legs. All she had to do was open her arms, and the wind did the rest. We strapped her down to ship with a rope, of course. Didn’t want her falling into the clouds.”

“Wait. You participated in this?” Celeste asked incredulous. Bron gave another chuckle.

“I was a child at one point too, my dear. I did my fair share of driving the adults mad,” Bron said, showing off a whimsical smile. “And your father, the greatest fool I ever had the privilege of knowing.”

“A fool?” James asked, slightly dejected.

“Yes, but only in the best way. You could be trying to convince him that two plus two is four, but if he thought it was five, then there was no convincing him otherwise. He was a stubborn man, but in a likable way—to the point where if he said the answer was five, you almost wanted to agree with him despite yourself. Right or wrong, he was a man of conviction. I see a little bit of him in you, Celeste.” Bron said with a wink.

Celeste pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. James opened his mouth to ask a question, but it caught in his throat. A weird feeling, he reflected. The fear of asking difficult questions. He thought it was a ridiculous thing to fret over, but here he was with words lodged in his throat. He spent a moment angry with himself, and then pushed the words out of his mouth, almost forcibly.

“How did it happen?” he asked. Bron looked at him curiously. “What was it like?”

James could see Bron become noticeably more ridged with the question. He had clearly spent many days training himself not to think of it.

“Oh, Jameson. You don’t want to hear something like that, do you? Won’t fix anything—”

“I do” James said, determination in his voice.

Bron eyed him. “It was like any other day, really. Breakfast was hectic that day if I remember, so I was too busy cooking to see them. I saw them at lunch and dinner, though. A normal day, mostly.”

“Mostly?” Celeste pressed. James was surprised that she was taking such an interest in the topic. It wasn’t that he thought she didn’t care about it. He just thought she considered it an event of the past, unconnected and unrelated to the present.

“Ah, well…” Bron said reluctantly. “They were…” He ran his hand over his beard, thinking of the best word to use. “…distracted during lunch, and I seemed to recall them wanting to talk to me after my shift was done.”

“And!? What happened next?” Celeste said. James nodded vigorously at her question.

“Nothing happened next. I got off late and by the time I reached my room they were nowhere to be found. A few hours later, I got word of what had happened.”

“What did they want to talk about!? It could have been important! Maybe—” James said, but was cut off.

“Maybe,” Bron stressed, “it wasn’t. We had many talks after work. There was nothing unusual about it.”

“But—” James said, but was cut off again by Bron’s pointing finger.

“There they are,” he said, pointing into the horizon. James and Celeste squinted their eyes, barely making out the flapping jesper wings in the distance.

“How did you know,” Celeste said in awe.

“Trade secret, my dear,” Bron said with a wink. Celeste puffed her cheeks at that and put on a scowl. James could tell it was just for show, but it seemed to fool Bron, who leaned away from her. “Alright, alright. Calm down. I come up here every morning to feed them.”

“Not to catch them?” Celeste asked with a raise eyebrow. Bron shook his head. “How kind of you.” Bron looked at her and then bellowed out a hearty laugh.

“No, my dear. You misunderstand. I feed them every morning so that they know where to come for a meal. And so that they trust the fleet enough to approach us. It makes the kiting possible. Kind? My dear, I am meaner than the kiters in the jesper’s eyes.” Celeste frowned, having not considered that. “Now, I shall leave you to it. I wish you both luck with your kiting. Especially you, Jameson,” he added with a sly grin. James let out a small groan and rolled his eyes. He didn’t let the comment bother him too much, though. He was used to being made fun of for his poor kiting ability. James watched as Bron stood up and began his descent down the stairs. When he looked back to the sky, the jespers were within kiting distance of the ship.

James and Celeste looked at each other, and then reached for the levers on the side of their spools. They pulled them. At first, nothing happened. Then James felt a click travel through the lever and enter his hands. He watched as the spool began to unravel. Upon closer inspection, the wire being unraveled was not completely circular. Small pieces of metal jutted out on each side every couple of feet, giving the wire some form of aerodynamics. James let the wire out slowly, controlling its speed by how far back he pulled the lever. He let it out until it was just beneath the flock of jespers. That was not the hard part. The hard part came from raising the hook at the end up to the level of the jespers. Too high, and they would fly higher and further out of reach. Too low and the jespers would simply ignore it. They took their flying seriously. They rarely came down to anything else’s level unless they were breaching beneath the clouds. Even then they would make sure they were a good distance away from anything else before descending. James sighed, watching the wire rise and drop in the wind. Each time the jespers rose, he reeled in the line. It had to be the perfect distance in order to not rise above the jespers. It also didn’t help that the jespers rarely flew at the same altitude, they would rise and fall several feet at a time in unison. James always wondered how they could communicate these split-second decisions with each other. He was aware that it was a question he could never answer, yet still, he asked it regardless.

A few of his attempts came close, the wire rising to the jespers’ level and staying there for several seconds. One of these times, a jesper on the side closest to James had attempted to grab it. The wind had knocked the wire downward at the last moment. James had used some of the cook’s language at that point, earning him a firm, criticizing look from Celeste. She wasn’t fairing much better, though. Her wire kept rising half way and then dropping. She had blamed the wire as many people did and was in the process of shifting to another spool. James watched his line rise again. He quickly reeled it in, keeping it at the height of the flock. He held his breath, waiting, watching. Finally, one lunged for it. It missed. James growled. It was nearly inaudible in the wind. A breeze came across the platform, raising the wire slightly. Rather than reeling it in, James reached out for the wire, pulling it down manually. The jespers shifted slightly at the wires movements but didn’t gain or lose altitude. After a few seconds of holding the wire in place, another one of the jespers snatched at it. It succeeded, latching the hook in the tender parts of its jaw below the beak. James then started the grueling process of tiring it out. He could see Celeste clenching her fists in excitement next to him. This was the first jesper he had ever latched.

Ten minutes later, the jesper was down and in James’s hands. He had already removed the hook, which luckily hadn’t driven itself too deep. Celeste was nearly jumping out of her seat with joy, but James felt…empty. He just looked down at the jesper. One of his hands was around its throat and the other was blocking its wings so that it couldn’t fly away. Its deep black eyes stared back at him ominously. He hardly noticed them. Instead, he was focused on the reflection of himself that shined back at him. It was clearer than if he had looked in a mirror. He found himself sympathizing with the jesper. How many times had he been caught sneaking onto the central ship? How many mistakes had he committed and lived from? Yet this creature of the air, to James’s knowledge, had only ever made one mistake, and now he would die for it. A conviction stirred in James as he looked into those deep black eyes. He thought it amusing as he thought about it. Why had this been a source of determination? It had nothing to do with the event the conviction was being applied to, yet for some reason it did it. It stirred him. He released the jesper and watched it quickly, almost desperately, fly back up to its line.

“What are you doing!?” Celeste demanded beside him. James ignored the question, electing instead to unstrap himself from the chair. Celeste continued to berate him from the side. He stood up and cast his gaze out onto the horizon.

“Celeste,” James said. Something about his tone made Celeste pause. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She knew that tone.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’m descending below the clouds,” he said, his voice strong. Celeste rolled her eyes. This was nothing new. “Tomorrow,” he added. She tilted her head.

“Huh?” Celeste questioned. He turned to look at her.

“Tomorrow. I’m descending tomorrow.”