By Phileas Moss Esq.
Words are hard to come by to adequately document what I can only describe as my perilous ascent into the rarefied reaches of the upper atmosphere. I could not tell you how high I rose. At such altitudes, measurements become largely academic, but I can say the air sharply grew thin, reminding me of a particularly arduous crossing of a pass high in the Southern Carpathian Mountains during an expedition to Brașov. Oh, how hard won was every breath…but even that expedition could not have prepared me for what happened next…
Something pink flashed through the air above me. There was a cry from Pigeon No. 3 and the flight team lurched sharply. For one terrifying moment I swung violently beneath them.
And then the spinning began.
Round and round I went, like a sycamore seed surrendered to the whim of a westerly wind, my world dissolved to but a nebulous blur. Then my right Inflight Half-Pint Plinth tore free, narrowly missing my upper right antenna.
With my senses disarmed, I had no choice but to retreat into my onboard accommodation and hope the turbulence would abate.
Just as I began to consider my mortality and question the wisdom of the entire venture, the voices of my engineering team broke through. I could hear Admiral Gloria Rosso-Venturi calling out atmospheric calculations and Dr Conrad Vesper confidently shouting instructions to the flight crew…until, at last, the spinning slowed and, following a somewhat shaky descent, my foot once again touched solid ground.
After such an eventful maiden flight, some have asked whether I intend to continue.
My answer is unequivocally yes.
For somewhere in Upton there is an establishment believed to house a suitably qualified Temporary Classification & Taxonomy Officer whose recruitment would allow the Staff Census to proceed in full, and I have been entrusted with the mission of finding them.
I may have only travelled a small distance physically, but I am now far closer to reaching Upton than ever before.
Phileas Moss Esq.