I must admit that I didn’t want to; but I had to, because we were invited to a Sound and Sight Festival in Brittz. It was my first long sea journey, I had a little angst.
We started in the morning, I had a new image binder – easier to use, plus new features. I had, or better, we had over 1400 kilometres to travel at about two hundred kph. Good weather – get on with it.
I spied a huge container ship, over twenty thousand containers, probably on its way to Rotterdam or Hamburg. I swooped down and hovered in front of the bridge. All the girls waved. The crew looked bemused, they were probably Chinese.
It was still light as we passed through the narrow entrance to the Brittzer Förde, I cut my speed as there were many boats, a few cruise boats and some flying boats. I moved slowly up the Förde, everybody was looking at us, the first house above the Förde, even above the flying boats.
We were greeted in the Brittzerhaven by two fire boats that sprayed water forming an arch through which we swooped down through. Welcome to Brittz! Over the city to land on arena 3 in the Freiheitspark where the Brittzer Sound and Sight Festival started on the morrow. New feature: When I land I play eight musical notes in the key of C major descending repeatedly.
Matron and the girls went to the arena 2 for a drink or two, and probably joined in the dancing – the locals here like dancing. I took a nap. We had been warned not to stay overnight on the ground in the park – possible hooligans. No trouble – I ascended to 50 metres, playing eight musical notes repeatedly. I used the image binder to create a false image of myself and switch off my own visual image; I ascended to 1200 metres silently.
First day of the Festival. Matron gave a talk on safe homes for women in the afternoon. And everyone joined in the dancing in the big arena at the end of the day. Everyone includes me, I can move back and forth at ten metres, some what slowly, but I was the star of the show.
Next day of the Festival. The girls and Matron had a session on safe homes for women in the afternoon. More dancing.
Next day of the Festival. Big trouble, a small band of hooligans named the Breaker Boys attacked the girls. Heavy misogyny! Nickel hit ‘em. Big heap of broken boys. More dancing.
Last day of the Festival. Lots of dancing.
We had been warned that a big band of Breaker Boys were coming and not to overnight in the park. No trouble – I ascended to 50 metres, playing eight musical notes repeatedly. I used the image binder to create a false image of myself and switch off my own visual image; I ascended to 200 metres silently and invisibly, and set course to another country.
They were loud, they were drunk, they were violent, they were stupid, they fired at me hovering above arena 2, they died killed by falling bullets, they killed themselves. They fired anti‑tank rockets vertically upwards at me, they couldn't miss. They, the Breaker Boys were no more.
The terminal velocity of a falling bullet is about 300 kph, nowhere near the velocity leaving the barrel of a gun, but enough to kill you.