::SOS :: :: SOS :: :: this is the Aviator ::

:: Had to ditch the Fairchild and I’m on some kind of an island, don’t know where :: :: Am sheltering in abandoned meteorological station ::

:: Cupboard full of Johnny Walker whisky and tins of Spam, but little appetite in this relentless heat ::

:: Every day I send out a weather balloon + each time I finish a bottle I stuff it with a copy of the Gazette and send it off to sea ::

:: Occasional glimpse of land :: :: Signs of life on remaining landmasses :: :: Glint of light, possibly a smoke trail from a fire? ::

:: The moon is boiling :: :: Ocean is effervescent :: :: Was it some sort of a deluge? :: Who caused all this? ::

:: Have seen faint movement on the oceans :: :: But how can there be a ship to rescue me, when there is no fuel? ::

:: Is anybody out there? ::

:: Please. Send word. Let me know I’m not alone….::

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