Page 2

This flight had been the culmination of years, decades, of effort. I’d been fascinated by balloons since I’d been a schoolboy, and in college I’d studied aeronautics with one aim in mind only; to know as much about balloons as I could, to become the world’s greatest expert in the field if possible. I had joined a ballooning club early on, and as I grew more experienced, I became convinced that there was only one thing really worth doing. Others could have the endurance and long distance records; I’d go for height.

Of course, to do this, I’d need a special kind of balloon, one specifically made for altitude. I designed it myself, and, with the help of the inheritance I got from my parents, I constructed it. After several test flights, I was ready for the big day at last. As I strapped in my parachute, an unfortunate but necessary additional weight and precaution, my fellow balloon club members pumped the translucent envelope full of hydrogen gas. It would of course have to be a hydrogen balloon; helium was too heavy, and I couldn’t even think of taking up the additional weight of a hot-air burner and cylinders. That I had to take an oxygen cylinder and mask up with me was already more weight than I could really afford, but like the parachute, it was a necessity.

My friend Oskar, who had been almost as fascinated by my project as I, and had helped in every way he could, checked me over one last time, testing the buckles of my harness and my parachute. "Are you quite sure you won’t take a radio?" he asked for the sixth or seventh time, as he helped strap me into the seat and locked the bar into place.

"I told you," I replied once again, "I can’t afford the additional weight. And any radio I could take up wouldn’t have much in the way of range anyway."

Oskar looked up at the envelope, which was now a billowing lighter patch against the pre-dawn sky. The capsule surged, straining against the ropes holding it down. He nodded. "Well, let’s hope there isn’t any emergency."

"Why should there be?" I asked. "The weather forecast is perfect, there’s next to no wind, the balloon is in excellent shape, I’m as fit as I’ll ever be, and we aren’t anywhere near the sea or something. Stop worrying, it never does any good."

"You’re probably right," he said, sighing, and handed me the map on a clipboard he’d been carrying. "Ready?"

I nodded. The ropes fell away, and with a lurch the balloon rose into the air.

It’s impossible, for anyone who’s never been up in a balloon, to imagine the thoughts that go through one’s mind as one makes an ascent like mine. As the ground fell away below, the sky to the east brightened dramatically as I rose above the line of the horizon. Then, with a flash, the rays of the still-hidden sun turned the balloon’s envelope into a huge teardrop of gold. I imagined that Oskar, who would undoubtedly be following me through binoculars, would be able to see it too.

The silence, in a balloon, can’t be imagined. Not only is there no engine noise; since a balloon moves exactly as fast as the wind, there is not even the rustle of a breeze. The slightest sound below, the crowing of a cock as the sun rose, might be clearly heard, if one were flying low, with ballast bags tied on; but I was rising straight up, and so quickly that long before the sun painted the roofs of the town I was wrapped in silence.

As the balloon rose, the capsule turned slowly, spinning in a great circle taking in the horizon. I wasn’t very high yet, but it was already distinctly colder, despite the sun. I was glad of my heavy gloves and boots, and of the thick flying suit. The sky was clear, except where, very high above and well to the north, a few strands of cirrus lay like ripples on the sand of a beach. It was going to be a great day, I thought; the perfect day for my attempt. I felt like laughing.

The earth underneath fell away into a flat sheet of brown and green. I had to concentrate on the instruments, plotting my position on the map with the help of the compass and the speed indicator. According to the readings, I must have encountered an unexpected stream of wind, for I was further south than I expected. Not that I could do much about it; and, as I rose further, I must have passed through the wind stream, for I no longer drifted south according to the instruments.

[ Continue to page 3 ]