I had planned on doing another time travel story this week, but yesterday I had been editing a snippet from an old nanowrimo story for use in an exercise, and I decided to post it instead. I like this piece and it's somewhat different from my usual fair. So *next week* you get a time travel story. And the weekend after that, I think I'll revisit my mad scientist from several weeks back.

I write about airports a lot, I think. I really enjoy travelling and flying so I suppose it wanders into my brain a lot.

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Terminal One

Abigail's flight was leaving from the newly completed Terminal One at Pearson. Construction had begun long before September 11th became an excuse for the airlines' sins of megalomaniacal expansion and other questionable financial practices. It had been erected under the assumption that Air Canada would rent and take up most of the space; in the wake of the attacks and the airline's plunge into bankruptcy protection the terminal sat two-thirds empty.

She'd got there three hours early. Abigail lived in fear of the embarrassing horror of being told she was too late, would not be allowed to board. So there she was, drastically early for a Sunday morning flight. A cleaner had wandered by half an hour ago, listlessly pushing his broom, but aside from him the airport was deserted. She was sitting on the floor hugging her knees. Her carry-on suitcase and small backpack tucked right beside her, for fear of a security guard wandering by and accusing her of leaving them unattended. The vast, sweeping ceiling of the Terminal One building was a white clamshell that had been elongated, stretched, and twisted into the shape the architect's diagram called for. It arched menacingly over her head as she tried to huddle down away from it. She hated the way the massive, intimidating aspired to be a sky. How the building was ridiculously underpopulated. Abigail longed for the soothing claustrophobia of one of the older terminals. The reassuring crowds. The problem, she decided, was that Terminal One was far too clean and white. Sterile. Human beings didn't belong in here and were not wanted. She was an interloper, a trespasser. At any moment she expected a team of robots to appear. They would be white, glisteningly clean robots with blue, pulsing LEDs for eyes. They would spider their way along to collect her and throw out her and any of other trash. The building was too new and too underused, had no welcoming sense of human occupation. A bit of graffiti or scuffs on the floor would have helped. A discarded Starbucks cup so she could be annoyed by the thoughtlessness of the litterbug. That was all she wanted; some hint of human prescence.

She might have gone to the strip of restaurants and shops where the massive, obscene clamshell wouldn't be looming over her. But there would be no one there either. The empty chairs, unbrowsed racks over-priced Toronto sweat-shirts and mugs would just send her mood spiraling further down.

She wasn't alone, she was abandoned.

Her throat felt thick and before she could even get to the tissues she had in a pocket of backpack, she had burst into tears. She put her forehead on her folded arms and just let her shoulders heave as she bawled.

17 responses to "Terminal One "

shannon esposito wrote: Friday, 05 Feb 2010 15:50 The future does sometimes seem cold and lonely. This empty terminal is a great space to explore the idea. I had to chuckle at the part where she pulls her bags to her. We have all become so paranoid! Anyway, this is a bit depressing, but in a good way. :-)

Marisa Birns wrote: Friday, 05 Feb 2010 17:00 There IS something eerie and lonely about being in a place that brings no cozy comfort, but rather sterility. Like in a hospital operating room. I confess that once, I was 3 hours early myself. But I bought coffee, ate sweets, and read a magazine. Though I did keep my bags right next to me!

Skycycler wrote: Friday, 05 Feb 2010 18:48 No place for humans in this space, they just mess the place up. This reminded me of those pristine architecture photographs which seem to showcase sterility above everything and are empty of people. I like how she sobs and snots up the place a bit - glad she left her tissues in her pack!

Laura Eno wrote: Saturday, 06 Feb 2010 09:41 Humans are messy. We weren't made to be overwhelmed by massive, sterile space. I related to this (including keeping my bags anchored to me!) You showed the loneliness well!

CJ wrote: Saturday, 06 Feb 2010 09:43 Agreed, I don't like sterile architecture spaces either. Dunno if it's any reason to break down and cry, but hey - maybe she was feeling abandoned in other ways... hence being at the airport.

Kylie wrote: Saturday, 06 Feb 2010 11:33 I love big empty buildings! But I could definitely feel and relate to all that airport stress. It is a very scary atmosphere!

AJ Campos wrote: Saturday, 06 Feb 2010 18:10 I like airports, but not this one. Sounds like a sad dream.

mazzz_in_Leeds wrote: Sunday, 07 Feb 2010 06:26 I don't like airports generally, and this one is awful! I'm more likely to get anxiety attacks in an overly crowded airport, but I think your Terminal would set me off too! "They would spider their way along to collect her and throw out her and any of other trash." -> cooool.

Michelle wrote: Sunday, 07 Feb 2010 18:50 eerie! I'd had to be caught in a place like that.

Olivia Tejeda wrote: Sunday, 07 Feb 2010 22:43 You really capture the feel of a cold and sterile terminal and the feelings that can evoke. I wonder if the word terminal has dual meaning here. ~ Olivia

Deb wrote: Monday, 08 Feb 2010 17:58 This story reminds me a bit of The Tommynockers. I like how you have depicted the sterile airport and her sense of isolation.

Chance wrote: Tuesday, 09 Feb 2010 03:25 Good descriptions, kind of reminds me of quite a few places that have yet to claim/gain a soul good stuff

G.P. Ching wrote: Tuesday, 09 Feb 2010 12:05 I'm so sorry I didn't read this earlier. Connected to this right away as I always feel like cattle in an airport, rushed around only to wait uncomfortably here or there, surrounded by people but alone. But there is more going on here, I think, with your reference to Sept. 11th. You've alluded to loss - personal, societal, moving when and where she doesn't want to move, feeling threatened by the real (security guard) and imaginary (robots). Deep thoughts. Nice work.

Eric J. Krause wrote: Tuesday, 09 Feb 2010 17:21 Great description in this. It is eerie to be alone in a huge building like this. Personally, I think it's kind of cool, but eerie none the less.

David Masters wrote: Wednesday, 10 Feb 2010 09:01 Brilliant character study of an obsessive and neurotic lady. I would love to know more about Abigail and the pain that drives her.

G.P. Ching wrote: Wednesday, 10 Feb 2010 22:29 Hello again! I've awarded you a "creative writing" blog award. Visit my blog for details http://tinyurl.com/yhwklm8!

Annie wrote: Friday, 12 Feb 2010 22:16 You have ecaptured the feeling of solitude, lonliness and desperation so beautifully inyour descriptive narative of this building. the dehumanisation and sterile nature of it reflected in your main characters emotions. gorgeous. thanks for popping over to my story last week - appologies for not getting here sooner!! visitors can see it athttp://annieevett.blogspot.com/2010/02/through-angels-eyes.html

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