There is a freedom in flight, a freedom that John has never felt before. In childhood he was trapped by his mother’s illness and as a teenager by the military. It is now, in the years that most learn how to ply their trade, go to university and complain that freedom is gone, that John is learning the meaning.

He loops and twirls, twisting the heavy metal through the air with thoughtless grace. A fascination has been born and a lesson learned.

There is silence. His thoughts run free. He endlessly woops and cheers unheard by anyone. Like a child running through corn fields he screams and slams his fist in to the air in triumph. If it were not for the straps holding him tight to the seat he would wiggle and squirm, freedom tickling some child inside.

The sky is wide and for a moment he can pretend that his reign is as wide, that the only limits are those of the engine and the fuel reserves. For a moment he can see a life filled with just calculations of flight rather than the screams and clawing of other’s minds against his.

At 20 something John does not discover alcohol or a love of mathematics. He discovers there is something in flight that is truly freedom