Part 03

On the other hand, she never seems to tire from, taking active part in On-the-Board-Flight simulation training; she does this whenever she is back at the Crew Creative Services and Modelling Offices. This Friday she was scheduled for another flight simulation training, and she was to be accompanied by Joachim, this time. Joachim whom she had only recently taken in as a team partner had not until now been able to schedule a training session with her in attendance, though he has been in a good many training programme himself.

But that was Malaysia: two weeks away. Right now it is East London, somewhere in the backyards of the council flats of East London. And it was morning and a Wednesday. Joachim was woken up by the glow of the 9 o’clock morning sun. He had been covered by a thick sheet of plastic clothing, which he did not recognize as his own. It was someone else’s raincoat; a  black thick one. There was a reflection of the sun’s rays on the whitewashed wall on the north side to his head. Joachim read the words, ‘’RAINBOW’S ASSEMBLY’’. He grimaced. He had been mugged, not at a bar. But at the hotel, where he had been lodged to spend the night with the other air host and hostesses, in preparation for the weekend’s flight, to China.

Part 02

Joachim and Anjali are an ‘’liked’’ pair, and are always together working as a team as air hostesses in the lately revamped Air Malaysia. She only asked after she had given enough wide berth to both women to conclusively decide if she was eligible for a repost or not. The two women whose presence filled the room with menace ignored her questions. They knew what she asked even before she asked, because she is required to write her questions down before she is allowed in for the confirmation.

Anjali came to the realization that if she was to get any bit or hint of the progress due her, she would have to take on these women and find out what made them tick. She should think it reasonable to find some team assistance in someone like Joachim or Grace Morton; her agency’s Creative Services and Modelling Trainer but she wasn’t about to handle things reasonably. Anjali Orwenich is a very good looking model; so good looking that she exudes confidence that begets jealousy, especially jealousy amongst those who it seemed in overtime had established their own little power pushing group. But Anjali could not be bothered. She came up with every different look in her little books of makeup and beauty treatment that she could think of and it infuriated her competitors so much so that she almost always seemed to look nicer every passing day like she was actually rejuvenating instead of ageing from fatigue and hard work.

Part 01

Philospher Noo stood still for as long as it took. He just could not watch the young man squirm any longer than he thought it was necessary. He stooped to see if he had finally noticed him but it only showed there was nothing he could do for his pain. The rain which he feared would not stop yet, got worse and even in his warm clothes he was beginning to feel the drop in temperature: warmth he formerly felt in my spine. The yard he found them in wasn’t strewn with dilapidated cars and washing machines as some yards were, but it’s far apart walls were whitewashed, and the flowers which had been planted to bring out the humane habitable character of the place had not started blooming, but indicated growth. Someone, he noted had been here recently. He said a silent prayer. He thought it would be obnoxious for him not to at least do what little he could do for the pain of the young man, but he had next to nothing with him to ease the man’s pains and groans.

Joachim; that was not his name but he named him as such because he had a Joe Cole badge on his shirt which was barely visible from the dark and the rain. The rain pelted down in droves, so badly he decided against carrying him in the rain, if he died he would have himself to blame.

He is Philosopher Noo. His names are Philosopher Noo, he is an engineer by profession but a writer and a historian by interest. He kept avoiding a direct stare down at the little teenager, a little girl of fourteen who stood by her mother in askance and spoke her place.

‘’Sorry, we won’t do that, it is an unhappy weather.’’

They refused him audience, they even refused to take his word for it that someone had been attacked in the yard down the street. So he left. He said an audible prayer and walked away in the freezing rain.