The Message

The seatbelt light chimed overhead. Mild turbulence. Nothing serious. Ava steadied herself against the headrest of row 36C and took a breath.

She couldn’t remember anyone sitting in the row of 7F, yet there he was. Travelling alone, dark slacks, a navy jacket and tapping away on his laptop. Ava reasoned to herself that perhaps she was just more tired than she thought. It’s a big plane, after all.

WHUMP

The plane lurched suddenly and her stomach dropped with it. Even though it was a familiar sensation to her by now as a flight attendant, she could never ignore her palms begin to sweat and her feet tingle - gravity’s cold reminder that she didn’t belong anywhere higher. As Ava wondered if her definition of mild turbulence needed updating, something caught her eye: a dancing light around the cabin. Defying both instinct and common sense, she loosened her seatbelt just enough to lean in for a better look.

The seatback screens were glitching in synchronicity - sharp bursts scattering like lightning from the center. For a brief second, maybe less, bold letters flashed across every display: APPLY NOW. Then…nothing. She blinked and the screens had returned to idle. Ava snapped back into her seat, heart lurching harder than the plane did. She glanced around. No one stirred. No murmurs. No reactions. A woman two rows ahead was still dozing with her earbuds in. Had she imagined it? That much light and sound, and no one noticed?

Ava tried to blame it on exhaustion, but that didn’t make sense. She’d slept well the night before and this was only a three hour hop from Brisbane to Darwin. Maybe low cabin oxygen? Cabin pressure? Do hallucinations even happen mid air? The thought unnerved her more than she liked. She pressed her palms against her thighs, grounding herself. No, she was fine. Things are fine. She just needed to breathe.

Ding

The seatbelt sign clicked off. Finally - time for some answers.

Whoever he was, Ava was certain that man hadn’t boarded the flight. Not trusting her own reassurances, she eased out her seat and started down the aisle. With each step she silently recited her service script: Be professional. Smile. Be friendly. Be attentive. She wasn’t going to accuse him of anything of course, she just needed to know what she had missed.

“Hi there. She said softly. “Just doing a quick check. Can I offer you anything?”

The man folded down the lid of his laptop and turned to Ava. His eyes met hers - sharp and vivid. Blue too, but the kind of intense blue that didn’t feel natural.

“I’m fine.” He replied calmly. “But thank you for asking, Ava.”

Ava’s mind raced. How did he know her name? She didn’t mention it.

“R-Right. Well… just let me know if you need anything.”

Ava turned and walked back towards the aft galley. She spied one of her colleagues in the back, lazily pouring coffee into a thermostat.

“Kita! There was a guy there!”

“Yes Ava… that’s how flights work.” Kita blinked. “Passengers need to be on the plane to get to where they’re going.”

“No, listen, Kita. 6F. No one was assigned to 6F. He knew my name.”

“You’re wearing it.” Kita said bluntly, pointing to Ava’s name badge on her uniform.

“Oh.”

Of course. How could she be so-? No. Something was still off.

She redirected, trying to hide the heat on her face.

“Hold on.” Ava picked up the tablet and flipped through the digital manifest. “See?” No assignment for 6F.”

“Well then maybe he just moved for comfort.” Kita replied, chewing on a carrot stick. “It’s not like the plane’s full, but that’s a premium seat. Should move him. Need Yindi?” Kita playfully nudged Yindi’s side with her elbow to grab her attention. Yindi was DestinAir’s Crew Member of the Month three times running. She was everything Ava wished she could be. By-the-book, intimidating, yet effortlessly pleasant to be around. If you ever had to deal with difficult passengers, Yindi was the one you wanted on your side.

“Sure. Let’s go talk to him.” Yindi replied.

Ava shuffled past Kita’s coffee-carrot snack into the cabin aisle behind Yindi, allowing her to press an intimidating lead.

“Any plans for the weekend?” Yindi asked casually.

“Oh… I guess I didn’t really think about it.” The question caught Ava off guard. She’d been so busy rehearsing how to respond if the man snapped or escalated. How was Yindi always this calm?

“Maybe I’ll stay home and read something. Or walk along the wharf. I don’t know.”

“Just go outside and enjoy yourself, Ava.” Yindi smiled. “I’m headin’ down to Mataranka with the kids, they’re stoked to go swimmin’.”

Yindi was always a little bit in everybody’s business, but her intentions were good, so Ava didn’t mind. Still, she couldn’t help the quiet pang of guilt that followed. She hadn’t made any plans to see friends or family - as if she had any. Kingsley was already plenty of company. And noise.

“So where’s your mystery bloke?” Yindi asked, placing her hand on the backseat of a now empty 6F.

“Uhm… well he was here. Maybe he moved?” Ava’s eyes darted around the cabin before she turned to glance down the aisle, though she couldn’t spot any man who looked like him.

“Well someone was here at least.” Yindi plucked a card off the empty seat. “Make sure to pass it to the gate agent.” She handed it to Ava.

The card was a shimmering pale white that reflected a subtle rainbow, laced with brilliant gold accents. Ava flipped it over. Only two short sentences were printed on the front: Become a God. Apply now.

She stared at it, more confused than ever. The same message as before. Apply? Become… a god? Her stomach gave a slow, uneasy turn. There’s no logo, no address, no website. Just that cryptic command.

Yindi didn’t react at all. Either she didn’t read the message, or didn’t think it was weird. Ava turned the card over again, hoping to reveal more information. No - nothing. Still blank. Still pearly white.

She swallowed. Ok, it’s just a promo thing, or maybe this is just a stupid streamer prank. This was found in someone else’s seat, it isn’t meant for me.

At least she was off the hook for confronting anyone over a seat change. That’s something.

“C’mon, let’s head back. We’re landin’ soon.” Yindi placed her hand on Ava’s shoulder, guiding her to turn around.

“Oh… right.” Ava nodded.

“What happened?” Kita asked, as she noticed the two approach the aft galley.

“No one was there. But we found a business card on the seat.” Yindi replied.

Ava felt her cheeks burn. “He must have moved back. I didn’t see him anywhere else, though.”

Great, so now I just look paranoid. She stared down at the floor, lips tightening. Maybe I just imagined the whole thing - or I’m overtired and just losing it. The sharp clarity she’d felt earlier - the certainty someone had been sitting there now felt like it was slipping through her fingers. And that card? What was it about?

She mumbled, “Did either of you notice the monitors during the turbulence before?”

“The seat monitors? Nah. Why?” Kita asked.

Ding

“Cabin crew, prepare for landing.”

Ava straightened up automatically, muscle memory kicking in as she moved through the checklist. Arm doors. Cross-check. Secure the galley. Smile like everything was normal.

But her brain was still stuck on that seat. That man. The card.

He was there. I know he was. I didn’t imagine him.
She replayed it again. Her memory of that passenger, still as stone, his eyes fixed on her. And then... gone. No one else had seen him. Not even a raised eyebrow at the weirdness of it all.

She buckled herself into her jump seat, tightening the belt a little more than necessary. Her heart hadn’t stopped its low, stubborn thrum.

Okay. So maybe he moved and I just don’t see him. Maybe the turbulence scrambled the in-flight systems. Maybe the card’s some dumb guerilla ad campaign. Maybe I’m tired and just filling in blanks with paranoia.

The plane jolted slightly as the wheels met the tarmac. Smooth landing. Some passengers near her exhaled in relief - laughing, stretching, ready to be done. Normal stuff. Ava forced a breath through her nose and stood when it was time.

She should probably report what she saw. Shouldn’t she? But even that felt slippery now. Report what, exactly? That someone vanished into thin air and left a mystery card? That the world around her was acting like nothing happened?

For now, she filed it away under a wiring glitch. That’s what she’d tell herself. But the silence from everyone on board felt heavier than she wanted to admit, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the only one who noticed anything at all.

Ava handed the card to the gate agent. “Here. A passenger left this behind. Not sure if it’s important.” The agent took it with a quick glance. “Oh, landscaping, huh? Guess they’re marketing everywhere these days.” They gave a half-shrug and tucked it into a drawer.

Ava blinked. Landscaping? That wasn’t what the card said. Was it?

She almost asked to see the card again, but stopped herself. No, leave it alone. It doesn’t matter.

Outside the terminal, Ava peeled off her cardigan, letting Darwin’s heavy humidity wrap around her like a damp towel. Most travelers complained about it. For Ava, it was a sticky, sweltering reminder that she was home.

An hour later, she tossed her cardigan over a kitchen chair. Traffic had been predictably awful. Construction always sounded exciting until it bottlenecked your entire route. As she crossed the kitchen to fill her water bottle, groggy meows started echoing from her bedroom, each one louder than the last.

Mrow. Mro-ow. MRO-O-O-OW.

The cries were breathily punctuated by a flurry of pitter-pattering paws as Kingsley made his dramatic entrance. He was unusually talkative for a cat, and extremely opinionated. If he had something to say, you were going to hear it.

This time, like always, it was a protest about her absence. Ava bent down and Kingsley used her arms like a springboard to vault up onto her shoulders, wrapping himself around her neck without missing a single complaint. His favourite pastime, aside from sleeping, was live-action roleplaying as a luxury scarf.

“Yes Kingsley, I know. You got all your food and water and still, I have failed you.”

MROOOOW.

“You’ll have to take it up with my boss. Maybe you can work out a deal where I get paid and I don’t leave the house.”

That seemed to work. The protests stopped - or maybe her neck was warm enough to sedate him. Now that her other boss had settled, it was time to figure out dinner.

Spag bog? Ava opened the fridge. Limp carrots greeted her. Oh… maybe not. Somewhere in there was chicken. She found it shoved towards the back, half frozen. Great. The fridge wasn’t winning any awards. But it was what she had.

So it’s questionable veggies with pasta, or frozen chicken that I don't have time to thaw. Or… I just order something.

Ava hovered in front of the fridge then reached into her pocket and flipped open her phone. She pursed her lips and scowled at the screen as a tidal wave of options barraged her. Half price deals, buy-one-get-one, special discounts screaming in every direction.

Chinese? Indian? Thai? Aussie?

The apps that are supposed to be user friendly were a user paralysis for Ava. Even the simplest of decisions somehow felt like career moves.

If I order food, it’s a waste of money.

But I don’t feel like cooking.

But what if the food I cook makes me sick?

What if I get called in?

It’d look bad if I got sick and I said no.

If I eat out, I should try something new.

But what if I hate it? Then I just wasted my money.

Ava sighed and thumbed through the endless carousel of restaurants. Another far too long, she’d finally narrowed dinner down to two:

Jasmine Flame, a new Thai place… or Hooked on Hastings, her usual comfort choice.

I should just try something new. What’s the harm?

Except, she couldn’t. Hovering over the ‘Order’ button triggered an avalanche of what-ifs.

What if I don’t like it? What if it also makes me sick? What if it’s raw? What if they mess up my instructions?

She paused, then with an exhausted flick of her thumb, button mashed her way back to Hastings and sent in her usual. Done. No risks, no surprises, just consistency. She could finally quiet her mind and enjoy the peace of knowing that her evening was figured out.

Mrooow.

Kingsley stirred from his warm scarf-nap. He had a routine, and Ava was deviating. Kingsley watched TV. Not because he understood it, but because the flickering lights and fast movements entranced his hunter instincts. Or maybe it was because he could prop himself against the couch while insisting on draping over her shoulders. Afterall, normal comfort just isn’t good enough for this ginger creature.

“Okay, I’m sorry. We can watch.”

Ava turned towards the living room and flicked the TV on to what she assumed was his favourite show - Jim and Terry. Slumping into the couch, she picked up her book which had been left upside down, and flipped through to find her place… only to find her bookmark missing. Scanning the room, she spied the bookmark’s tassel just peeking out from under the telly stand. Kingsley had claimed another toy for his realm.

Sigh. Rather than dig through hundreds of pages to rediscover her place, she opted for revenge: to take from the little ratbag what he had taken from her - entertainment. She picked up the remote and gently booped him on the nose with it.

He recoiled, scandalized that such an ugly, unfamiliar object had dared touch his face.

“This is your fault. Stop taking my things, you drongo.”

Kingsley would be offended, if he could understand words. Fortunately for him, he was blissfully unaware of the evening he’d ruined, and quickly snapped his attention back to the screen that was now rapidly shifting as Ava scrolled through the endless catalogue of shows.

Ashgrove? No, season three fell off when the show writers ditched the books.

The Violet Hour? Predictable. Gorgeous cast with an empty plot.

Witchmarked? Live action adaptations never work.

Red Dirt Rigs? Same formula, different truck.

Real Tradies of Brisbane? I’d rather eat frozen chicken.

Next, And next. And next.

The thumbnails blurred. Genres overlapped. She began to hate the curated recommendations on principle. “Shows you might like.” How dare they presume.

The longer she scrolled, the less anything appealed. A bleak paradox: with everything at her fingertips, somehow nothing was right.

She paused. Maybe… she should’ve just found the lost page in her book.

Forty minutes vanished in a haze of indecision before the intercom buzzed. Dinner had arrived. She hadn't watched a single thing. Her Hastings bag tucked under one arm, her drink in the other, Ava shuffled back upstairs. Kingsley chirped and spun underfoot until she gently nudged him aside with her shin. Coffee table tucked in, fishcake here, chips there. Finally… comfort.

Bzzzt.

Her phone buzzed against the tabletop. Dread coiled low in her stomach. Probably another shift that needed a cover.

Ding

A gentle chime, followed by a bloom of pearlescent light across her screen. White and soft, rippling faint hints of rose, blue, and green in shifting arcs. Gold accents framed the page, elegant and deliberate, every detail polished to impossible perfection.

APPLY NOW

Ava froze.

“Uhh…”

An app? A job App? Malware? I don’t think I’ve clicked on anything shady.

The colours. The design. It was the same ad as before. The same shimmering borders, the same brilliant polish. Somehow, now, on her phone.

Her eyes followed the glimmering gold frame, tracking the slow pulse of light as if it were breathing. For one dizzy second, she almost tapped it.

No. No, I’m not clicking it. Whatever… this is. It’s just a stupid prank or scam.

Ava jabbed the minimize button until her home screen reappeared. She exhaled, steadying herself. Rent still wouldn’t pay itself, no matter what Kingsley believed.

I need to check the trip trade board.

She opened the app, scanned the listings, and found a shift available for tomorrow. Well…. Do I do this? I could use the extra money. It would look good to my boss. She hovered over it, biting her lip as though she dreaded the decision, thumb poised to confirm.

Ding

“SHIT!”

A brilliant flash of opaline light flared. The job ad had forced itself back onto her screen - directly over the shift confirmation button. For a split second, the APPLY NOW icon had moved, perfectly aligned to where she’d almost tapped.

“Bloody hell.” Ava’s voice wavered. Her heart was hammering from the jump scare.

She minimized the ad with a trembling thumb and launched her app store.

Ok, whatever you are. I’m going to find you and delete you from this digital plane.

Grroowooow.

Kingsley let out a low grumble as he slowly blinked his eyes open and stretched, clearly displeased with his lack of scheduled telly time.

“Sorry mate, I’m a bit busy.” Ava replied, fixated on her phone.

She scrolled through her installed apps.
Bank. Credit score. Step counter. Cat game. Calendar. Email. Contacts. Trip trade board.

Everything was exactly where it should be. Except for the fact that it was clearly compromised.

Great. Perfect. Love that for me.

She closed the screen and twirled it by its accessory cord, letting it swing lazily. The stickers on its case caught the light, cheerful and oblivious. No real attachment - just the fact she’d spent weeks hunting for this one on sale.

“Well,” she muttered, eyeing it. “You’re either broken… or you’re haunted. Maybe it’s a polite haunting? Some dead relative nagging me to get a better job?”

She snorted and shook her head.
“Nah. Virus. It’s just a virus. There’s a reasonable explanation for this.”

How to get rid of phone pop up ads? She tapped into web search.

Disable notifications - check.

Block pop ups - check.

Clear browsing data - check.

Get a third party ad blocker. Oh. That has to get rid of it.

Hmm… ScanSure. I’ve heard of this one. 4 and 5 star reviews all around.

Install it, run it, restart just be sure.

But before she could be done with the haunted ad saga, she still needed to snag that shift. Ava hovered over the power button, thumb hesitating.

It’s just a phone. It can’t hurt you. It can’t make you apply for jobs.

Mrooooooow!

“Shit!” Ava jolted, heart pounding.

“Kingsley!” she hissed. “Go back to sleep!”

Kingsley chirped - a sharp little chattering sound that could only be mockery, then rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, utterly pleased with himself.

She rolled her eyes, ignoring his prank, and finally confirmed tomorrow’s freed up shift without issue.

Ava sighed at her now-cold dinner. Most of her night had been swallowed by malware troubleshooting instead of the fishcake-and-trash-TV bliss she’d planned. Whatever. Bedtime.

Prrrpt. Prrrpt. Prrrpt.

Kingsley’s deep, snorting purrs dragged her out of a shallow doze. Hot, stinky air washed over her face. Of course, he’d claimed his usual sleeping spot: sprawled across her chest like a furry sandbag.

If she moved, he’d wail. If she didn’t, she’d suffocate under sixteen pounds of feline entitlement. Kingsley wasn’t even a Maine Coon. He was just… big. Big enough to body-check a medium-sized dog away from dropped food and then sass it for good measure. Ava figured he’d simply decided to be born oversized so there’d be enough room for his ego.

Hence: Kingsley.

Perfect. Thirty minutes before my alarm. Thank you, breath beast.

Ava decided it was better to be up earlier than to try to sleep again, besides, if he’d woken her up, the smelly sandbag can deal with it. Not like he’d be so inconvenienced by missing one of his many sixteen hours of sleep. Though, he’d be convinced otherwise.

Still pinned beneath his weight, Ava ruffled his fluffy cheeks with practiced gentleness. Kingsley answered with a low grumble - Catlish for “Five more hours.” Ava was fluent by now.

Prrrpt. Prrrpt. Prrrpt.

“Amazing,” she murmured. “Right back into deep sleep, just like that. If I had your superpower, I’d never need coffee.”

Mgraooowaow. Kingsley sleep-grumbled back.

“Ok, now that I have your attention, you have to wake up, because I have to, Sir.” She leaned in and whispered.

Mgrroooooawowwww. He gave his final sleep-warning, before he’d have to hiss a formal teeth-bared complaint.

“Don’t get an attitude,” Ava said, unfazed. “You could sleep literally anywhere else, and this wouldn’t be your problem every single morning.”

Undeterred, she cupped his cheeks with both hands, rubbing circles into his fur. “You’re not the brightest creature, are you?”

In seconds, his snort-purrs melted into happy purrs. He was far too easy to bribe; she knew all his weaknesses. Then, as if struck by revelation, Kingsley’s eyes shot wide open. Morning kibble.

Mow. He jerked his head skyward, as though seeking a divine reply.

He coiled himself like a spring and launched off the bed at light speed, ricocheting from wall to wall before pawing furiously at the door.

Mow. Mow. Mow. Mow. He stared at Ava, wide-eyed.

Desperate pleas for the sacred good morning routine.

“Unbelievable. You’re lucky that you’re cute.” She shook her head at him. “Ok ok, I have to get up too, mate. Just give me a moment.”

Bzzzzt.

She heard her phone buzz on the night stand. Disconnecting it from the charger, she shoved it into her pocket of her drawstring pants, making a mental note to check it after her shower.

“Ok Kingsley, here you go.”

MROOOOOOOOOOOOW. A panicked yowl, followed by a blur of fur squeezing through the smallest possible gap like liquid, unwilling to wait even a second longer.

Now that Sir Drama was finally stuffing his face, she could get back to her own routine.

Despite his hysterics, I’m glad I got the little bugger. Ava smiled to herself as she poured her coffee, watching him zig-zag across the apartment, back arched and growl-chattering at invisible phantoms.

He was still in early-morning mode. Early-morning mode was the energetic equivalent of a six year old sugared up on two packs of jelly beans and a can of soda.

Kingsley was delightful chaos in an otherwise quiet life. With him around, it was easy to forget… less pleasant things. But she didn’t dare ruminate. That never did her any good.

Bzzzt.

Oh.

She fumbled her phone out of her pocket, swiped the lock screen - then froze as soft, multi-colored lights streamed across her face.

It was the ad. Again.

Sweat prickled at her neck. Her hands trembled as she gripped the phone, fighting to steady herself.

This time, the APPLY NOW button danced, blinking in and out of existence as pearlescent lights shimmered in rhythm across the screen.

“I scanned for you. The antivirus should’ve cleaned you up. How are you still here? Ugh.”

Whoever made this really wants me to click it.

She wanted to desperately believe that this was simply persistent malware, but it was a haunting reminder of the strange events that took place on the plane. That man… the screens… the card that only she could see that looked just like this ad.

Still frozen, she glanced at Kingsley, who was too busy yelling at the walls to care. For a second, she almost wished he could perform his ridiculous little exorcism on her phone and make it all go away.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The microwave timer announced it was finished, breaking her out of her trance.

Shit. Ok, yeah. Morning. Work. Time.

She pushed her hair back, straightened her shoulders, and forced her world back into motion.

Water - Check.

Lunch - Check.

Wallet - Check.

Keys - Check.

Phone - She glanced down at the ad still bathing the kitchen in restless, dancing light, then closed it out as abruptly as she had the night before - Check.

With the last bites of avocado toast crammed in her mouth, she pointed at Kingsley on her way to the door.

“I’ll be home later. Don’t throw any parties.”

The accusatory tone snapped him out of his exorcism. He bounded toward her with great indignation, but the door had already closed. No matter - he’d still lodge his complaint, paw to door.

Ava could hear his yowls echo into the hallway as she made her way to the elevator. It always pulled at her heart, but she could bury the feeling knowing Cecilia, her elderly neighbour and Kingsley’s self-appointed aunt, would drop in. They’d keep each other company on otherwise lonely days.

Ava mused to herself what sort of mischief Kingsley might cause this time as she entered her taxi. Last time it was the piles of toilet paper found shredded while Cecilia was fixing herself some lunch.

By the time the jet bridge clattered beneath her shoes, the apartment felt like another world. She’d been given the briefing by the Captain. Nothing out of the ordinary. 150 passengers, mostly families, cruising at 35,000 feet, standard weather and minor turbulence expected along the Queensland coast. As she wiped down the galley table, she secretly hoped to herself that it was actually normal turbulence this time.

Ava adjusted her necktie, drew in a slow breath, and greeted the first passengers boarding Flight DA861. Today’s run was Darwin to Brisbane, and then back again. Most of the travelers were middle-aged or older, heading out for business or simply fleeing the heat. Outside, murky clouds gathered, threatening the wet season’s arrival. She couldn’t blame them for leaving; she only wished she could join them on their migratory reprieve.

Instead, she’d be on duty the whole way back - no beach, no sunshine for her.

“That’s all of ‘em. No stragglers.” Michael’s voice pulled her out of her daze. As cabin service director, he was responsible for confirming with the gate agent that boarding was complete.

She realized she’d been running on auto pilot this whole time, greeting people without really being present for it. Marveling to herself that she wasn’t even consciously present for Michael communicating over the phone, she must’ve been standing there, smiling like an idiot for a short while.

Ava blinked, realizing she’d been running on autopilot, greeting passengers without really noticing. She couldn’t even remember hearing Michael on the phone. She must have been standing there with a smile pasted on, looking like an idiot.

She pushed the thought aside, cheeks warming with embarrassment. At least she’d been assigned to the galley this leg, leaving most of the meet-and-greet duties to her more outgoing coworkers. It wasn’t that she disliked people, it was the questions. Incessant, anxious, often unanswerable. She always found herself stammering off-script, searching for the right words, while knowing that what most passengers wanted wasn’t information at all but reassurance: calm professionalism to ease their nerves. Ava never felt she delivered on that. Guilt trailed behind her, making her wonder if she’d chosen the right career.

With the cabin filling, she checked overhead bins and made her way mid-aisle to fetch her demo vest. She went through the motions as Michael narrated the vest functions to the clearly disinterested passengers and the attentioned anxious few. Her thoughts, however, had already drifted. The ad.

Maybe ScanSure missed it on the first sweep because I didn’t follow the instructions properly. I need to try again.

She made a mental note to give it another shot once they landed in Brisbane. She’d have two hours to kill at the airport anyway.

The background hum of chatter and safety patter fell away as the announcement came:

Cabin crew, prepare for takeoff.

Ava stowed her demo vest and walked the aisle, reminding passengers to tuck their bags beneath their seats. She caught their nervous or distracted glances, reading them the way she always did - half-in, half-out of the moment. Finding her way into her jump seat, she strapped in next to Kita as the plane pushed back and began to taxi.

“Too bad they can never put these seats next to a window.” Kita sighed, tucking her phone into her pocket.

“Just open the exit door and watch the view.” Ava smiled sarcastically.

“Wanna dangle your toes over the edge with me? I can make us Manhattens.” Kita raised an eyebrow.

Ava laughed - a real one, the kind she rarely let out with the others.

“Hey, do you ever get ads on your phone?”

“Yeah, like ads when you’re browsing? All the time. Why?”

“No, I mean on your home screen.” Ava clarified. “Like, you’re checking your calendar and something pops up.”

“Oh. My brother had that once. He downloaded a scanner and it fixed it. Maybe you tapped something shady by accident.”

Ava blinked, caught off guard by the lack of judgment. She’d been so sure only an idiot would end up with that kind of problem.

The jet engines roared as the aircraft surged forward. No delays; they were on schedule today.

“Hm. I downloaded a scanner but the ad kept showing up.”

“What kind of ad?” Kita raised her voice over the rattling cabin.

“It’s… weird. Cryptic. It flashes right when I’m about to confirm something on another app. Just this giant button that says APPLY NOW, all caps.” Ava’s lip curled at the memory.

“Apply for what?” Kita pressed.

“I dunno. Doesn’t say.”

“No brand name?”

“Nope. Just a blank background and those words.’” Ava shrugged.

Light turbulence jostled the bins overhead.

“That’s super weird. Definitely don’t click it. Want help fixing it when we get to Brizzy?”

“Yeah actually. I’d love a second pair of eyes.” Ava’s frown melted into relief.

“Sure. I got nothing to do besides man-spotting anyways.” Kita grinned.

Ava giggled, grateful that someone was taking her seriously. Finally, she’d get proof she wasn’t imagining things.

By the time the plane leveled off and the seatbelt sign went dark, they were elbow-deep preparing the service cart.

“Can you check for allergy notes?” Kita asked, kneeling to wedge meals into place.

“Sure.” Ava swiped her phone awake, scrolling through passenger requests. “It looks like - ”

Ding.

The screen froze and the familiar gentle chime sounded. Pearlescent light bled into stark white. A single command unfurled across it in shimmering gold text: APPLY NOW.

“Like what?” Kita asked, distracted with the trays.

“Uh… the ad.”

“The ad?”

Kita stood, catching Ava’s frozen stare.

“Ava? What’s wrong?”

She frowned, leaning over. “Weird. Some ad for movers.”

“You see it too, right?” Ava’s voice trembled.

“Yeah. Who do they even think they’re selling to?” Kita flipped the phone in her hand like it had personally offended her.

“Huh, movers?” Ava blinked, the trance breaking. “Can I see again?”

“Sure, but Michael needs to look. IT’s gotta see this.” Kita handed it back.

Ava gingerly took the phone back - only to be greeted again by the dazzling rainbows, the button waiting, beckoning.

Ava took it carefully. The soft rainbows bloomed again - the button, waiting.

The cart lurched as Kita accidentally shoved it forward, bumping Ava. She fumbled, dropping the phone to the floor.

Bending to pick it up, Ava felt an odd sting of betrayal - though she couldn’t name by what. Every attempt to prove herself only made her look like a fool. Her grip tightened around the phone.

The ad pulsed gently. Waiting.

Fine. If you’re going to haunt me, I’ll end this.

She tapped. The button seemed to adjust itself, aligning perfectly with her finger. She blinked. Had it done that before? Yes… last night too.

The screen shattered into glittering fragments, then reformed.

CONGRATULATIONS.
YOU’VE BEEN SELECTED FOR THE POSITION OF PART-TIME GOD.
PROBATION BEGINS AUGUST FIRST, YEAR TWO THOUSAND TWENTY-TWO.
END DATE: FEBRUARY FIRST, YEAR TWO THOUSAND TWENTY-TWO.

MEET PHOS FOR INSTRUCTION.

What the hell?

Ava rolled her eyes. A prank. Someone brilliant enough to spoof her UI and trick others into seeing something else.

The fragments dissolved, restoring her Service Notes.

“Hey, you don’t see it anymore, right?” Ava held the screen up to Kita.

“Hm?” Kita popped her head just over the cart handle to inquire with her eyes. “Oh, nah. Did you fix it?”

“Oh, uh -” Ava’s cheeks flushed. “No. It went away on its own.”

“Bugger. Well, make sure to tell Michael. The cart's ready by the way.” Kita nodded toward the front.

“Y-yeah. I will.”

Ava swallowed hard. DestinAir could trace everything. She needed an excuse, fast.

I clicked it by accident? But that makes me sound careless. I clicked it to check if it was dangerous? No, that’s worse. Maybe it looked like company software? But Kita saw movers. Ugh. Did I just jeopardize my job over some hacker prank?

Her head pounded as voices grew louder and more anxious, echoing useless solutions and competing against one another for the worst-case outcomes.

Without her realizing it, they had already arrived at the front of the plane and a panicked, answer-less Ava had to face her fears.

Kita gave a small nod towards where Michael was standing, chatting away to a business class passenger - a signal to Ava to get his attention. She tried to straighten herself despite how much she had been dreading this moment, and tapped his shoulder.

“I need to talk to you.”

Michael furrowed his eyebrows slightly and lightly gestured with his hand for her to move towards the cockpit door as he excused himself.

“Problem with a customer?” He lowered his voice.

“No, an ad popped up on my work phone.”

“An ad? Let me see.” He held out his hand.

Michael scrolled through apps, expression tightening. “Where’d you see it?”

“Service Notes. Kita saw it too. The thing is… I clicked it.”

Ava’s stomach knotted.

“Hmm.” Michael rapped his knuckles lightly against the cockpit door as if to steady his thoughts, then pulled back, remembering who was behind it. He pressed and held the side button, powering the phone down.

“Use the intercom if you need me,” he said, calm and matter-of-fact. “I’ll log it in the report and hand it off to IT once we land. You’ll write a statement for them. Don’t use it for now - just return to service.”

The color drained from Ava’s face. She managed a nod, pretending she understood - understood more than he’d said, that she might already be in trouble. At least she still had her excuse in her pocket, one she could polish later if it came to that.

For now, she pasted on a smile and wheeled the cart forward. Each passenger she charmed with a drink order steadied her hands, but her mind raced in defiance of her composure.

Someone really tracked me? A nobody flight attendant? Hacked my phone’s camera just to change the UI while someone else looked at it? How does that explain the business card?

Her Occam’s razor bent under the weight of impossible questions. The simplest answer can’t be this, but what else even fits?

Someone wants me to think I’m a god. They’re pulling at my ego. But why me?

Her body carried her through the motions of service and descent while her thoughts consumed her.

The jet bridge clattered under her suitcase wheels, jolting her back to herself. Brisbane’s cool, crisp air-conditioning rushed over her skin - until it didn’t.

Rounding the corner into the terminal, her steps slowed. The air had shifted warmer. A sweet, grassy scent thickened with each breath. Birds sang, impossibly loud, as though drawing her forward. A breeze touched her cheek, inviting.

The airport terminal was gone. In its place stretched a spring day too vivid to believe, and ahead - a silhouette waited.