Blake Schwendiman's Blog and Blook

Chapter 3

Wednesday, 09 March 2022 – 10:00 a.m. MST

To say that Ramesh Kapoor hated flying was an understatement on the order of “it gets warm in Phoenix.” It had been more than four years since his last flight and he had become quite accustomed to staying low. It was a relatively short flight – Fort Collins to Phoenix – and the comforts of flying alone in a small charter jet did have a way of reducing his distaste for air travel. He glanced around again, then tried to recline his seat further.

“What am I doing here?” he thought to himself. Four hours ago he had been sitting on his porch looking up at the Horsetooth and casually making notes for his next book. His enclosed porch had become his sanctuary. South African by birth, Ramesh referred to his sanctuary as the stoop. He spent most of his waking hours there either reading or writing. He did little else. He already missed the serene quiet of his stoop.

He glanced at his watch without noticing the time. He was thinking of the phone call that pulled him down from his quiet Fort Collins life. He didn’t receive many phone calls. Most everyone he knew communicated strictly via the net. He lived in a virtual world, connected to faceless people and nameless collaborators. It suited him. Traditional world relationships demanded too much emotional investment.

I need your help, the voice urged, exhausted. Ramesh got little information over the phone. A car would be sent. A flight would be chartered. Ramesh struggled to find any reason in the cryptic request.

He adjusted his seat again, and then pulled a short note from his pocket. It had been the only additional information sent to him before he left. It was a single page containing five lines of digits with no explanation. Ramesh studied the digits, looking for a pattern, a clue. He had no idea why he was flying today.