On the Wing Read Online Free

Electro-Flyer he is making no such claim.”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “I see a dangerous parallel between Nort’s situation and my own when I began building the aerocycle: I had drawings of a finished plane, but no plans for building it, so I had to improvise. Nort had nothing but pictures of the Disco Volante, which were the equivalent of the drawings I had, invaluable as inspiration but useless in terms of engineering—so he must have had to do a lot of improvising—and the result—”

    â€œOh, Peter.”
    â€œI’m trying to be realistic.”
    â€œDon’t.”
    I looked at her, looked into her eyes, saw the longing there, and said, “Okay.”
    *   *   *
    DESPITE WHAT HIS AD CLAIMED, Norton Prysock was not willing to let the world’s only Electro-Flyer go for what we considered a reasonable offer. Even after a long negotiation he wanted much, much more than I thought Albertine would be willing to pay.
    â€œHe is asking us to pay for a car more than twney-six point three percent of the cost of the average studio apartment in Manhattan,” I said as Albertine and I huddled at the end of Nort’s driveway, conferring.
    â€œWhere did you get that bit of information?”
    â€œI’m basing it on a survey reported in this morning’s Times, ” I said, unfolding the paper to the story.
    Albertine skimmed it quickly and announced, “But he’s asking less than one percent of the average price of a Manhattan property with four bedrooms or more.”
    â€œAre you kidding?” I asked her.
    â€œNo,” she said, pointing to the relevant figure. “Peter—”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œIf we sold our apartment—a two-bedroom apartment, I remind you—we could buy this car—and have lots and lots of change left over.”
    â€œShouldn’t we save that for our golden years?”
    â€œYes, we should. That would be wise. It would be prudent. We try to be wise. We try to be prudent. Well, I try to be prudent. However, after my fall I find that I am feeling the cold breath of mortality on the back of my neck, and it’s making me impulsive and foolish.”
    â€œAre you sure it’s not the hot breath of the great god Urge that you feel?”
    â€œCould be,” she said coquettishly.
    â€œUrge couldn’t be appeased with some shoes, could he?”
    â€œNot this time,” she said.
    I was about to speak again, but she put a finger over my mouth, shushed me, and said, “Listen.” I listened. I expected her to speak; I thought she wanted me to listen to her, but after a minute, she said, “Sometimes, more and more often, especially at night, I can hear them, out beyond us, ranged in rings and rings around rings, the angry, murderous, rapacious numbers of our species, growling and cursing and gnashing their teeth, brandishing their weapons, blowing one another to smithereens, feeding their hatred with hatred, stoking their anger with anger, fueling their selfishness with arrogance. There’s no getting away from them, but we could do as your pal B. W. Beath advised and, for a while at least, just pass through the squabbling world without being a part of it, like a breeze.”
    â€œIn an Electro-Flyer?” I asked.
    â€œIn the Electro-Flyer,” she said.
    We paid Nort’s price.
    Peter Leroy
    New York City
    February 15, 2007

Chapter 1
    Without a Map
    Traveling ought [ … ] to teach [the traveler] distrust; but at the same time he will discover how many truly kind-hearted people there are, with whom he never before had, or ever again will have any further communication, who yet are ready to offer him the most disinterested assistance.
    Charles Darwin, The Voyage of H. M. S. Beagle
    LO! THE BIRDBOY WAS ON THE WING, figuratively speaking. I was on my way, taxiing westward, urging Spirit of Babbington up, up, and away, but not managing to