"Peter," she asked, trying to speak firmly, "what are your exact feelings to me?"
"That of a devoted son, Wendy."
"I thought so," she said, and went and sat by herself at the extreme end of the room.
"You are so queer," he said, faintly puzzled, "and Tiger Lily is just the same. There is something she wants to be to me, but she says it is not my mother."
"No, indeed, it is not," Wendy replied with frightful emphasis.
I'll teach you to jump on the wind's back and then away we go.
- J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan
‘Those who don't jump will never fly’ is a dictum drilled into me from an early age. It’s one I took literally when I learned when parachuting and then later dabbled in sky diving, well before I went into the British army as a combat pilot.
Skydiving provides a unique combination of adrenalin-fuelled exhilaration and perfectly calm tranquillity. While in free fall it's all about the rush - but once the parachute opens and your heart rate steadies, you'll take a moment to gaze around you and see the whole world in a new light. It's beautiful up there, and the experience is about as close to actual flying as humans can actually get.
To the skydiver, ‘flying’ in a plane is akin to ‘swimming’ in a boat. As someone who has flown helicopters I would quible with that simple characterisation but eventually I’m okay to acknowledge there is some truth behind it.
As someone who used to parachute and sky dive as a recreational past time, I can empathise with those skydivers who live for the wind whipping past as they plummet toward the earth during free fall, and the thrill of floating on the air currents once their 'chutes are safely open. They live on the edge, though not in danger - amid the elements, but not at their mercy.
In skydiving, it is the fear response that gradually weakens. During the precipitous descent, the amply tested parachutist can savour the thrill rather than endure the panic. You may never get rid of the butterflies, but you can teach them how to fly in formation.
The Mech's version of shouting "Long Live [ ]" in celebration or before a drink is actually shouting "Death To The Mechanisms", a joke made eons before their final debut was even a thought. It would start out as a joke, at least, but quickly enough they realized it was becoming an affirmation. Not immediate death, but a promised eventual end of the line, of a book closed. The idea of their stories finally ending one day was a relief, even if the pain of losing the others damned the joy of promised rest.