As the plane starts its descent, the movie I’m watching is called Life, a sci-fi horror with Jake Gyllenhaal in which a Martian plant monster is killing its human captors on the ISS.
My neighbor is watching something arguably more thrilling: the bird’s eye camera on the airplane. As the plane shakes and churns, the two screens fit neatly next to each other. The swelling soundtrack of the killing alien on my noise canceling earphones surrounds me. The ISS, spinning out of control due to the pilot’s early demise, is about to hit orbit. The vertical lines of the landscape beneath us is drawing closer on her screen. She’s grabbed her boyfriend’s hand now, holding her face in anxiety.
For a moment I am confused about this fear, about reality, the jetset simulacrum.