The Big Hairdryer Sucks

There are few calmer ways to start a day than by watering flowers. 

From their window-ledge, my carnations relish the dawn, and I fawn over them. I’ve found a simple pleasure in waking every morning to nurture a petalled piece of unassuming beauty. It’s only a little thing, a tiny part of each day, but I’ve found it to be something purely gentle.

Work beckoning, though, I leave my house, here in Downtown. The cobblestone path takes me from my door, under a creeper-clad arch, and onto the pavement where the hum and scent of Mr Wick’s lawnmower and freshly cut grass proclaim the sweet end of summer.

I watch for the next suitable water droplet. Hundreds plummet toward the ground, conveying the night-shift workforce from Uptown, the commercial district, built above the houses. Alongside many other uniformed employees and suited executives lined up along the street, I pick one watery sphere and track its gradual slowing. As it comes to a hovering stop at ground level, a gentleman steps out, and I enter the droplet behind him. Encased in water, I hurtle upward.

I can just make out my destination—the Ministry of Transport. After a quick call ahead, my droplet and I are sucked from the waterway by a contraption we fondly call the Big Hairdryer. Although it sucks instead of blows, it perfectly resembles the one in my drawer as it sits above the Ministry’s door, guiding traffic. I whizz past my fellow commuters in their pods of rising and falling water and approach the Ministry’s towering glass facade. Gently bursting, my droplet deposits me at the front door.

Between planning the streetlights on North Side’s new waterway so that the glare off the surface of the droplets isn’t too bad, and organising next month’s Aerial Boating Championships, I pass the day quickly. When the clock strikes five, I’m ready to make my way home. It’ll be relaxing, watering my flowers and watching the summer sky drift into evening, the butterflies frolic in the garden, and the neighbours walk home, disappearing into their living rooms, soon to turn their lights on, making an orange-window tapestry of our Downtown street. 

Bliss.

From the Ministry door, I call my transport. The Big Hairdryer obliges, and a droplet floats my way. I climb in.

‘Stop!’ Reggie charges out the door. ‘No! No! Get out!’

I look down. Empty space gapes below. ‘I can’t. I’m past the edge.’

‘Oh no!’

‘Reggie? What?’

He makes a phone sign with his hand. I grab mine as my droplet joins a suspiciously deserted downward shower. There are plenty of droplets, but no people. My phone rings.

‘There’s been a fault.’ Reggie’s voice is frantic.

‘What?’

‘The updraft machinery broke down. There’s nothing to slow the waterway.’

As I descend, I can make out droplets smashing into the ground.

‘You should never have got out the building,’ Reggie stresses. ‘I was about to lock the door.’

The droplets aren’t slowing, aren’t stopping, aren’t gently depositing their passengers. Every droplet is splattering on impact … at full speed.

‘What do we do?’ I yell nervously.

‘I— a—’

‘Reggie!’ 

‘I— Let me think!’

I can hear his panic.

I can feel mine. My legs tingle. My knees jerk. My hand hammers against my thigh, hammering loud, but not as loud as the cacophony of water on ground. I can hear it loud and clear now.

‘Reggie!!!’

‘Jump!’

‘What?’

‘You need to jump into a droplet that’s travelling up. Quick!’

‘Jump?’

‘Soon, there won’t be any upward droplets left. They’re all smashing, not stopping and rising again. You need to jump now!’

‘Really?’

‘I’m sorry!’

I pocket my phone and stand against the water wall of my droplet. I feel a compulsion to shut my eyes and crumble on buckling knees. And at the same time, I feel a compulsion to fling myself madly. The ground isn’t that far below.

I grab my phone. ‘Is there another way?’

Silence.

‘Reggie?’

‘No.’

As the roofs of the taller Downtown buildings flash past in a haze, like streetlights through wet glasses, everything seems very slow. And I feel trapped by a decision I don’t want to make.

Until I jump.

My shirt flaps violently. My hair ripples. My eyes widen. The last upward droplet approaches. I order my flailing body to form like a skydiver. I can hear the thunder of droplets below. My target is a breath away. Air accelerates over my body in a furious rush. I shut my eyes. I feel myself pass through the wall of the droplet. I tense myself against impact with the floor. I open my eyes.

And I’m moving up again. The roofs of the tallest buildings flash past in the right direction, and I exhale as the ache of my belly-flop pierces my thoughts. I just jumped between droplets of water, across the Downtown skyline!

‘Reggie?’ I whisper into the phone.

‘You made it!’

‘But what now?’ I wheeze.

‘The Big Hairdryer’ll bring you back here.’

I sigh from the depths of my lungs, and I sit up, massaging my muscles. When the momentum of the droplet shifts toward the Ministry’s door, I allow myself to grow a little calmer. The front door beckons, and Reggie waves. I’m almost there.

Sparks!

The Big Hairdryer roars like a Big Dragon. 

And I hurtle straight up.

I hear Reggie’s voice through the phone. ‘We’re going to get you out of there somehow.’

As the roof of the towering Ministry of Transportation slips past, those words sound far too uncertain.

‘Don’t worry,’ Reggie says.

‘Easy to say!’

‘We’ll get you back.’

The phone line dies. I gauge my journey against the tallest skyscraper in Uptown, the only thing still above me, except the slowly colouring sky. The colour reflects in the water around me. It wraps around my little bubble like a dancing portrait of swirls. If I’d chosen to be here, it would be the experience of a lifetime.

But I want the off switch, the exit button. I don’t want to be farther from the ground than I’ve ever been before. And I never want to jump again. I just want to be safe.

My phone rings. ‘Reggie?’

‘Soon you’ll have to jump into a downward droplet. Then, as you approach the Ministry, you’ll have to jump from droplet to droplet toward the door. You need to be on the Ministry’s side of the shower. We’ve only restored minimal power to the Big Hairdryer. We can’t pull you from the centre of the waterway.’

‘You want me to jump again?’

‘Just four more.’

‘Just!’

‘It’s the only way … I’m so sorry. At least you’ll never need to skydive agai—’

The phone line goes dead. No signal. I realise more than ever that I’m standing on water. Water alone, and a void beneath. Pins and needles crawl up my legs. I mustn’t look down.

I target the nearest downward droplet. It’s falling. I’m rising. As we near, I remember my previous jump, the smash of painful thrill, the maddening rush. 

And yet I must jump again … before I think too much about it … now!

I slip through the air, over a chasm so deep that the ground looks too far away to be real. I am perfectly free, untouched, except by a distinct feeling that I’m falling very, very fast.

Splash.

I collide with my target droplet. And I keep my eyes open. I need to make my next jump immediately. I can relax when I get to the last droplet … if I can ever relax again.

I make the jump. Springing again into a feeling that pings my nerves with hyper sensation. I greet the roof of the tallest skyscraper eye to eye. I’m like a bird, falling through heaven.

Splash.

Two down; two to go; and not much time. My fingers twitch unconsciously. The hair on my arms is stiff, like wires. Part of me feels less nervous; part of me feel a hundred times more nervous—and that’s the louder part!

I launch into the sky, far above anywhere a human should ever be. I’m walking in the air, tingling from head to toe, floating above a city amid a stream of water droplets. And I can’t keep my eyes open this time.

Splash.

One more! Hold it together. I’m past the Ministry’s roof in my downward fall. It has to be now. I set my sights on the last droplet. But it moves away. The Big Hairdryer has started already.

‘Jump!’

I can hear Reggie’s voice faintly. If I don’t obey …

I spring into the air for the last time, and as I cross the largest gap yet, I pass in a smooth arc through air that smells like a summer evening. The offices of Uptown rise all around. Oranges and pinks slice the sky above into vibrant ribbons. The skyscrapers and evening colours mingle in the transport droplets that tumble behind me in their hundreds. 

I’m a swimmer in an ocean of glistening tears.

And I’m crying, ready for my adventure to end.

Splash! I slip into the final droplet, an inch away from missing it.

The Big Hairdryer guides me to the Ministry door. The droplet bursts gently, and I’m deposited on my feet in front of Reggie. He stares at me with elation. I’m safe! Safe on firm ground.

Next morning, I wander to the window ledge and lean heavily against it. Butterflies whirl in the garden. Neighbours emerge from their doors and begin their ascending commutes. Reggie gave me the day off. So, I say again: There are few calmer ways to start a day than by watering flowers. But today …

Today I enjoy it more than usual.