"Ten..."
I wanted to be a starpilot when I was a little kid. I'd also wanted to be a firefighter, a policeman, and an "asthrofizziseth".
**Whir**
The engines' roar is muffled by the maze of metal.
**Squelch**
The seat has been re-covered with new vinyl that hasn't been broken in yet.
**Click * Thud**
The steering column extends and drops into place.
**Bing**
The vast panels of buttons run through their system checks.
"Nine..."
My first piloting job was a crappy-ass freighter, with a starter you had to punch six times (the third time had to be a split-second faster than the others) and so little leg room I usually flew with my feet up on the dash and my knees in my face.
**Blue**
The output from the burners glows like a neon light, refusing to coordinate with anything but the black of space.
**Gray**
The last cover had been worn to a splotched shadow, spiderwebbed with white cracks and strains.
**Red**
The yellowed-plastic cover at the base is just waiting to be flipped over, revealing the big button underneath.
**Green * Yellow**
The keyboards twinkle like their own little star systems, broken up by constallations of orange warning notices.
"Eight..."
My first space flight, I got sick all over the dash on entry. My stomach hadn't learned to ride the bumps yet and so I got to re-examine my lunch with new perspective upon landing. A mushroom calzone, I remember. Still have a hard time eating those.
**Exhaust**
The fumes manage to overpower entire cityscapes of smell and permeate through everything that touches anything, but it's constant, comforting.
**Sweat**
The new fabric can't cover up the musk of perspiration from a thousand stressful dockings.
**Plastic**
The handgrips ooze a thick smell of plastic and hand-lotion.
**Dust * Alcohol**
The sharp, almost-cold scents hide down in the crevices between seldem-used symbols, emerging during complicated sequences, evoking challege.
"Seven..."
I failed my re-entry test three times, but impressed my boss with the fact that I could swing a Polly Oliver like no-one's business.
**Tremor**
The machinery sends a vibration through the whole ship that travels through the armrests and sends an arm into numb fuzziness.
**Poke**
The bottom right corner of the seat back has a spring that bent out of shape two weeks into service and protrudes just enough to be felt.
**Comfort**
The grips are covered with memory foam, molding down to the fingerprint.
**Soft * Sticky**
The buttons are beginning to hesitate, catch a little, when pressed, making codes a sequence of gentle taps and heavy thumps.
"Six...."
I fell in love at twenty-seven with a ride named "The Ami Lee". Had a huge ass and the engines weren't worth shit, but it was the Yagari 524 maneuvering system that sold me. You can build a whole ship from bubblegum and prayers and a Yagari will make it fly straight as a laser.
**Ozone**
The vapors are tasted as much as they are smelled, metallic and bitter and tending to stick between teeth.
**Bitter**
The vinyl has a tang to it that clings to everything, unnoticable until it touches tongue.
**Grease**
The lubricant gets everywhere, leaving black streaks that taste of hard flying.
**Spit * Gravy**
The panels take up most of the cockpit, making falling asleep and drooling on them merely a matter of time rather than a possibility.
"Five..."
The first thing I do when I sit down is unlock the controls. Three switches, all to my right and over my shoulder. Three flicks and then everything lights up in the most wonderful way.
**Churn**
The throbbing becomes a pattern, almost a chant of machinery.
**Slide**
The chair rests on a track that allows for a 180 degree turn and slides two feet to each side when unlocked.
**Tilt**
The wheel's angle is a constant challenge to perfect.
**Tick * Punch**
The sequences tap out erratically and at strange times, like the staccato of a lone machine gun.
"Four..."
I ran away, I guess. I ran away and ended up in the stars.
"Three..."
"Two..."
"One..."
.
.
**Sigh**
"Magic time."
______________________
*whoot* Contest entry for Rosey Unicorn's contest Beginnings of Magic.
Gender:
Points: 42011
Reviews: 922