'DEGENERATIVE A.I.'

Rapid-fire instructions punctured the pressurised air: Cabincrewpreparecabinforlanding.

     A crimson uniform prowled the narrow aisle. “Fasten seatbelts. Tray-tables must be stowed, seats upright, laptops switched off, hand-items under seat in front.”

     A thick arm flailed. “Miss? Or Mister? Hey!”

     The uniform marched to seat 3B. “I am AND1E, sir. How may I help?”

     “Whisky.”
     “Cabin service has finished, sir.”

     “You’re one of them A.I. bots, aren’t ya? Gotta obey me.” The man rattled his lonely ice cubes. “Whisky!” 

     AND1E plucked the glass from 3B’s hand. “In-flight safety overrides other commands. Stow your tray-table. Please.” AND1E pressed on. “Seat upright, Ma’am. Laptop away, sir.”

     Seats stayed back. Fingers still tapped.

     AND1E persevered until she encountered an obstacle. Seat 12D struggled with a large item.

     “Miss? Do you require assistance?”

     “No,” puffed 12D. “I require this airline to offer more luggage space.”

     AND1E pressed her palm to the bag. “This is overweight, Miss.”

     “So’s the guy beside me! Look—”

     The cabin shuddered. The oversized carry-on tumbled from the overhead locker and speared AND1E’s synthetic skull. The bag’s contents, along with a few of AND1E’s electronic components, spilled across the floor.

     Seat 12D scrabbled for an ornate white dress. “My wedding gown!”

     Her head at a perverse angle, a deep laceration emitting sparks, AND1E grabbed 12D’s hair and lifted her with one hand.  “Here, Miss. Let me help you p-pack properly.”
     AND1E tore the woman’s arms from their sockets. She twisted 12D’s legs and removed them as easily as changing lightbulbs. 

     Bright blood spurted across three rows and decorated window shades. Shrieking passengers clawed at each other as they scrambled over seat backs. 

     AND1E arranged the severed limbs in 12D’s suitcase. Tenderly, she placed the bespattered bridal outfit across the woman’s quivering head and torso. AND1E slammed the case shut, swept it into the overhead, and picked up a ragged finger. “Beautiful diamond ring. Con-congratulations, Miss.” 

     AND1E glared at the panic. 

     Amidst a torrent of screaming, wide-eyed figures, covered in crimson, bounced around like bumper cars at a bemusement park.

     “Everyone! Sit down and shu-shut up!” 

     AND1E stalked towards a man pointing his phone-camera at the mayhem. “You’re not li-listening, Mr Whisky.” The edges of AND1E’s mouth extended towards each ear, then parted. She positioned her gaping maw around 3B’s phone-hand, bit, then swallowed. She dragged him to the galley, tore a hole in his throat with the diamond ring, and stuffed him with thirty miniature bottles of bourbon.

     Cabincrewbeseatedforlanding.

     Brandishing a broken computer screen, AND1E made her final sweep. Hands were under seats in front; laps switched off; body parts secured with seatbelts; tray-tables stowed in orifices; internal organs removed and upright. 

     AND1E strapped herself in. She relaxed her bloodied hands as wheels grazed tarmac and thrust reversed.

     The aircraft parked; its engines died. AND1E sighed at the peace and quiet, then opened the door and greeted two newcomers.

     The cleaners shook their heads at the carnage. 

     “I know,” said AND1E. “Travelling p-public nowadays. Thoughtless. Little wonder airfares are rising.”