sammj
10-15-2017, 03:39 PM
He passed out about 10 seconds before the airliner collided with the south tower. The overwhelming realization that he would no longer be or live among his fellow humans, that this was indeed even the last time he would see the sun - this was a realization that barreled through his consciousness like that of a gigantic freight train smashing through a 20-foot wall of aluminum gasoline containers; absolutely obliterating every piece of the equation in a desperate and fiery hell-storm. However, in the moments before this emotional concussion, the young religious acolyte was accompanied with an image that had been set on repeat in the very back of his brain and sat with him, in the cockpit, all morning. An image that had nearly brought the man and his spirit to the same conclusion as that of which his realization of religious suicide had just delivered. Before the passenger plane was taken hostage, the jihadist had walked confidently "with God" down the isle of the 747 and contempt-fully looked over the passenger seats which were filled with what he was told to be purely flesh and sin. As the man was closing the hatch door he caught a brief glimpse of the eyes of the subdued pilot. This image was what could be considered to be a visual prayer; a silent plea that forced a replacement of his contempt-full being with a sort of guilty love for his fellow man. The pilots face had an unintentional but natural expression that seemed to have had shrieked and screamed for the sonder of all those who have ever lived or will live, including the young Saudi himself. The moment was so brief that the terrorist's brain wasn't even capable of allowing itself to compute the proposition or manifest its conclusion. The hatch door was now closed and locked with the pilot on one side and the jihadist on the other. The cockpit was filled with an absolutely paralyzing silence that forced the young man to literally collapse into the pilots seat as if his legs were being magnetically ripped off his waist. He was so distracted by the thought of there possibly being an error in the equation that he had been plugged into, that he was essentially piloting the plane in a subconscious state like that of a pathetic and depressing routine day-job or as if he were a Kodak printer; monotonously printing the same image over and over again until it had exhausted the essential resources it needed to perform its one and only task (a kind of manic robot-like psychotic suicide.) This image of the pilot flashed throughout the young man's mind over and over again as if it were a concussion grenade, relentlessly exploding inside of his skull and filling every inch of his brain with remorse over and over again in roughly 15-20 second intervals. The understood weight of the plane and solidness of the structure was burning holes straight the the man's eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look at the World Trade Center at this time, it was like trying to look at yourself in the mirror after lying to a loved one. The man closed his eyes and bowed his head as tears began to fall from his face, placing himself in a state of static consciousness He eventually lifted his head and opened his eyes. In between the 15 second intervals and tears of genuine contrition was a vague image of two gun-metal gray towers standing proudly before him; anticipating the blow, and already telling him to "go **** himself."