No pens, no pencils, or writing instruments of any kind.
Paper will not be provided for your use; we transcribe thoughts
through the latest technologies. We have all sciences here:
the medicines we give make obsolete your aspirins and motrins,
please leave them in the buckets with cigarettes, smokeless and non,
your lap belts and shake weights. Welcome to zero gravity.
Abandon your electronic devices in your luggage
to be sent later. We have hyper-screens and holodecks,
playing cards and antique monopoly boards. Get to know
your fellow passengers or merely watch them through lowered
lids and remember what it was like to speak through moist lips.
No pockets of any kind, lest you sneak the flora and fauna
of your home, the revived dogs of your childhood, snakes,
iguanas, Blue Morpho butterflies. The captain is allergic.
We have timepieces for your own personal use. We insist:
no watches, sundials, or white stones from an abacus
which you slide intermittently while you sleep. No children
surreptitiously stowed in fabric containers. You may not leave,
talk, whisper or aid another once you pass security.
You may not make loud or persistent noises. Do not run,
walk, or skip. You may have no rights except those we grant you.
You may always turn back, even after we have left. We have doors
for your disposal, the heat of our exhaust melting your skin
as you breathe once, twice the space you dreamed of filling.