World spins madly on
After his thought-provoking conversation with the Devil, Jack Harris realized he was a lot more ambivalent about being stuck in a bar at the end of the Universe than he should have been.
He was a rational, sane, ex-naval officer with two kids and an ex-wife. He should have been running away from the manifestation of Lucifer, even if she did seem to be nice enough. Everything in his mind said this was just completely insane.
At the same time, it was a welcome distraction.
He'd saved the plane and proved to everyone that he could be a capable air traffic controller again. He knew that T.C. would easily offer him a job on the spot; he was surprised Bryant hadn't done it yet. But did he want to go back? His instincts said yes; he was great at it, not just good. It was like an addiction that he'd missed badly.
At the same time he'd moved past it. He was happy with his life. Maybe it wasn't the most exciting thing in the world, but his kids thought he was cool, he was sober, he was making a living for himself. It wasn't bad.
He had to ask himself: if he went back, would the same thing happen again? Five more years of trying to pull himself out of a hole?
How much had he changed?
This, of course, only served to irritate him further, and so he settled in front of the fireplace and stared at it. He couldn't help but see dots and lines and numbers that weren't there. Once a controller, always a controller.
Even at the end of the Universe.
He was a rational, sane, ex-naval officer with two kids and an ex-wife. He should have been running away from the manifestation of Lucifer, even if she did seem to be nice enough. Everything in his mind said this was just completely insane.
At the same time, it was a welcome distraction.
He'd saved the plane and proved to everyone that he could be a capable air traffic controller again. He knew that T.C. would easily offer him a job on the spot; he was surprised Bryant hadn't done it yet. But did he want to go back? His instincts said yes; he was great at it, not just good. It was like an addiction that he'd missed badly.
At the same time he'd moved past it. He was happy with his life. Maybe it wasn't the most exciting thing in the world, but his kids thought he was cool, he was sober, he was making a living for himself. It wasn't bad.
He had to ask himself: if he went back, would the same thing happen again? Five more years of trying to pull himself out of a hole?
How much had he changed?
This, of course, only served to irritate him further, and so he settled in front of the fireplace and stared at it. He couldn't help but see dots and lines and numbers that weren't there. Once a controller, always a controller.
Even at the end of the Universe.