Droidzville

I read closely, super intently over the records. Actually, everything did matter. Distance traveled; seven-hundred and twenty miles, speed; sixty miles per hour, beginning; twelve in the afternoon, direction; northeast: everything seemed fine. I scanned through them, and then I stopped. Instantly, immediately, I hesitated. This was deep. Where was the weight? The hugest thing that ever mattered about the blimp was the weight. Well, it might not have been a big deal if I found it, which I did. Just one mistake-I paused. I flipped all the papers and found it. Once again, it seemed like time just stopped. What I saw, was impossible, unbelieveable, it was unlike anything I have ever seen. It was an error.

What I read on the paper was about the weight. Lets get this straight, their are twenty five people on the blimp, at all times, for sure. No matter what happens, there alway is. A few engineers, the pilot, me: everyone equaled twenty-five. Thats it, twenty-five. The total of the weight of people on every sheet of blimp records I had seen had the specific weight right in my face: three-thousand, one-hundred, and seventy. Specific. Always. Every single time I looked, it had to say that.

What was scary, was, it didnt. What it said, well, implied was, their were twenty-six people on that blimp. Nearly impossibly. I was ready, I am ready.

I slowly got up from my chair, and muttered, "Lets do this."