#you can see my frozen pucks of ice on the ground lol

[coyotecreek]

Bunch of fat, happy beans this morning.

[ca-8]

(This is a short story about the Wright Brothers I wrote for chem class! Thought I'd might as well post this so it wouldn't rot in the back of my Google Docs app lol)

A Success Takes Flight

“You won’t win this one, General Orville!” an eleven-year-old boy declared, chasing an even younger boy down the hallway. The younger boy struggled to stifle a giggle as he almost tripped over his feet and darted around the corner. They both held a plastic horse with fake identical soldiers glued onto their backs. Various parts of their yellow and blue coats were scrapped off, but by the grins plastered on their faces, the boys didn’t seem to mind.

    “When I get away, I will, General Wilbur!” a seven-year-old boy retorted, looking back at his older brother. They passed by a window of their house, and the moon shining from the Ohio night sky gazed down at them. They zoomed by their little sister’s room, and the small owner silently looked up at the doorway and returned her attention to the doll in her hands.

    Wilbur increased his speed just a little. He figured his taller stature would easily overpower his younger brother's shorter size, and he would finally win the make-believe battle. The fate for his victory was sealed; however, he didn’t know that it would be from Orville’s own carelessness. 

    They ran into the living room, and while his eyes were on his big brother, Orville’s feet caught onto the edge of the rug that stuck up from its usual position. That grin instantly flew off his face as he collapsed onto the ground. The toy flew from his hand, and the horse was beheaded when it came in contact with the hardwood floor. 

    “Woah, are you okay, Orville?” Wilbur asked, approaching and kneeling down beside him. But his brother’s attention stayed glued onto the broken object. 

    “My toy…” he mumbled. 

    “What is going on here?” Wilbur turned to the doorway and saw his mother rushing to the scene.

    “Orville tripped and his toy broke,” Wilbur said. He heard sniffling behind him, and he saw that his brother’s eyes were starting to well up with tears. 

    “Oh, honey…” their mother mumbled as she kneeled in front of him, cutting off his view from his once beloved toy. “You don’t need to cry. We can always fix it tomorrow, and it will be as good as new, okay?” she said in a soothing voice. Orville sniffed and wiped his eyes, but before he could say anything, the front door flew open.

    “Wow! What smells good in here?” their father’s cheerful voice asked. The boys’ eyes instantly lit up when they saw a little bag in their father’s hand. “Father! Did you get us anything?” they asked in sync, running up to the man.

    The father peered down at his children and chuckled, wiping off dust from his dark coat. “Now, now, boys, settle down.” His eyes went past the boys and onto their mother, then to the mess scattered behind her. “My, what happened here?”

    “Orville broke his toy,” their mother informed. Orville lowered his head.

    “Oh, it’s okay, the one I have is even better,” their father said. “Can we see it now?” Wilbur asked, bouncing on his toes. “I will, but first, I’m starving!”

    The boys hurried to the dinner table and messily swallowed the food after their father’s prayer. Ignoring the disgusted looks they received from their five siblings, they ran from the kitchen and back to the living room. Wilbur encouraged his little brother to clean up the mess on the floor, which he obeyed, and they both waited for their father. Soon, the preacher entered the room.

    “Okay, boys, here ya go!” he said. He put his hand inside the bag and carefully pulled out...some kind of object.

    “What is that?” Orville asked.

    The toy was a model of some sort of vehicle made out of cork with paper wings sprouting from the wings. But what really caught the boys’ attention were the two tiny things sticking out sideways on the other end of the vehicle. “You know, I am not sure. I guess it’s up to you boys what you want it to do,” their father said, handing it to Wilbur. 

Wilbur held the strange toy in his hand with Orville peering over his shoulder. “Can it fly?” he asked, using his finger to gently brush the wings. 

“Does it?” Their father was grinning like he was silently telling them to find out. 

Wilbur stood up slowly. He moved the two small paper pieces slightly and cocked his head to the left when they both spun around the end. Without much thinking, he flicked one of the pieces, and the two spun quicker than anything he has ever seen. 

“Woah! Let me see!” Orville demanded, jumping up from his spot. Wilbur handed him the toy and his little brother flicked the rotating paper a couple of times. His black irises seemed like they were shimmering with awe. Suddenly, he rose up the toy and threw it across the room. 

“Hey, what’re you-?” Wilbur started, but when his gaze followed the toy, he realized that it was gliding through the air like a dead grasshopper instantly springing back to life. It flew across the room for a second before landing safely on the carpet. 

The Wright brothers were silent. “My, what an interesting toy!” Their father walked over to it and picked it up, examining its unique features. 

“That’s so cool!” Orville exclaimed. “I wanna do it again!” He ran over to his father, and after getting it back, he threw the device a few more times. Meanwhile, Wilbur stood and watched them entertain themselves. He wanted to join them; however, a thought forming in the back of his mind kept his feet cemented to the floor while thinking to himself, ‘I wonder if there’s anything to make us fly like that.’ 

For the next few years, the boys’ source of fun was only that toy. They always found new ways to make it fly faster and farther, like throwing it with the wind on a gusty Friday or climbing on top of the large tree that was not too far from their house and throwing it from there. Though, Orville would be its primary owner because of Wilbur being buried in his studies more and more each day.

But Wilbur was far from annoyed. He enjoyed being occupied in work he knew how to do. It was a way to show off what he knew, and what more he wanted to understand. And later on, school work and the flying wasn’t the only thing that brought a smile on his face.

Despite that, the activity would eventually introduce life-turning despair to him.

A few years later, Wilbur stood at the sides of a large river of frozen water. Many of the boys were holding their hockey sticks and skating along the thick ice. Wilbur's eyes followed the black puck that was passed between them. He had been playing hockey from time to time, but this was the first time he would be playing with this many kids.

"Be careful, Wilbur!" his mother yelled on the hill behind him. Wilbur looked up and gave her and his family an excited smile. His sisters and brothers had books and dolls in their arms. Orville had their flying toy. "Oh don't worry so much, Susan, he will be fine," he heard his father say. 

Wilbur put his gaze back on the field and joined the other boys. Some of them he knew, some of them he didn’t, but it didn’t matter all too much. They accepted him as soon as he quickly took the puck and smacked it to the other side of the frozen lake. 

Playful laughter erupted from the fields the boys had fun. Though, all through that time, Wilbur felt an unsettling feeling in the back of his head. As he chased boys who were trying to show dominance over the puck, he looked over his shoulder. The person behind him caused a shudder to run down his spine.

He was far, but his piercing gaze was almost unbearable. Oliver Crook Haugh stood on the other side of the field, his eyes never leaving Wilbur’s. The stare was as if a lion was stalking a gazelle abandoned by its herd. 

Wilbur shook his head and focused back on the game. He was just probably having a bad day. Yeah, that’s it. The neighborhood bully always had a bad day. Surely he had other prey to pick on, right?

The Wright kid pushed in front of the other boys and held the puck against his stick. He kept a steady pace as he focused on the black, round object, only looking up every few seconds to avoid the other boys coming his way. The end field was so close he could practically see the grass in his sight. He prepared his arm to raise and swing the puck to the imaginary goal. 

But he never did. Instead, a pair of black shoes appeared in front of the puck. Wilbur shot his head up to see Oliver with his stick behind his back, ready to swing. He thought he was aiming for the puck, but a sharp pain that collided with his jaw told him he was wrong. Wilbur felt himself fly back, and the only thing he saw next was a pair of birds flying in the cloudy sky.

It was as if time was moving in slow motion. The birds held their wings out, letting them glide perfectly along the windy air. Wilbur wished he could be one of those birds.

The world turned black when they flew out of his view.

Raindrops crashed into the window. Many slid down to the bottom, and Wilbur silently cheered for some to reach the bottom before the others. It was the only thing he could do that was slightly fun since his parents banned him from ever leaving his room.

“You need to stay here and rest if you want your jaw to get better,” was his mother’s actual words, but to him, it held the same meaning. Especially since she and his father said he wasn’t allowed to play hockey anymore. 

“I can beat up Oliver if you want,” his other brother, Otis, offered. Every Wright child was taught to never raise a hand at anyone, so it surprised but also satisfied Wilbur that Otis would suggest such a thing. However, he had to decline; he didn’t want his brother to get in trouble because of his rage. Besides, who knows what Oliver would do to him?

His other siblings helped him eat and read stories to him, and though he appreciated it, they didn’t ease the pain. Not just the pain of his jaw, but this heavy pressure in his chest. He thought it was just a side effect of being brutally injured, so he ignored it.

One day, Orville silently came into his room and sat on his bed. He glanced at his big brother and mimicked his stare at the window. It was raining again.

Wilbur noticed that he was holding the flying toy. “You should be doing homework,” Wilbur said, forcing his gaze back on the window.

“I got bored. I wanted to go outside but Mother said I would bring dirt in the house.” Wilbur hummed, and the two boys sat in silence.

“Hey, Wilbur?” Orville said after a few moments.

“What?”

“Do you think we can actually fly like our toy?” Wilbur’s eyes trailed back to the small toy. The paper was wrinkling and the cork was covered in dirt, and some parts of it were coming off. Not only that, but the two smaller pieces of papers that stuck out at the end were beginning to rip. It surprised him that he didn’t notice such drastic details until that moment. “I don’t know,” he finally responded. 

“Now that would be fun, doncha think? We’ll be like those annoying birds that wake us up every morning.” Wilbur let out a soft chuckle, and Orville grinned widely. 

“Yeah, I guess we could. Someday.” They faced the window once again.

Wilbur felt ashamed. He was among the oldest of the Wright children, and yet, he just witnessed most of his siblings go off to college. He should be there too, but instead, he was stuck at home, wallowing in self-pity and failure. 

Right after his jaw healed up, his mother fell ill, and Wilbur felt that this was his time to be useful. After all she had done for him and the family, it was the least he could do. At first, his father insisted that he would take the position so his son could catch up on his studies; however, Wilbur knew that his chance of graduating high school was far from his grasp. 

Ever since the incident with Oliver, the heavy, empty feeling never left him, even after most of the injuries were fixed. In fact, it was probably worse. The usual urges to get out of bed, to eat, sleep, and smile were gone in an instant. It wasn’t very long before he realized that feeling took away his need for academic success. Afterwards, he dropped out of school, and taking care of his mother became his primary goal. Though he knew it was impossible, he still had regret lingering through his veins everyday when he thought of his chances for college.

“You don’t have to worry about me so much. You should get back to your studies,” his mother said weakly. Whenever they were in the same room together, she would always take the time to lecture him about his mistake. But he refused to listen.

 Wilbur held the fork up to her mouth and her teeth hesitantly took the food. “Don’t be silly. If I can’t take care of you, who will? Father’s too busy.”

“You could do so much more…”

“I will, but after you get better.” 

A tensed smile fell upon her lips as if she was putting every ounce of effort into showing her love. “You are so selfless, Wilbur,” she said. 

Wilbur returned the gesture and took the empty plate off of her nightstand. “Thank you. Now rest up, Mother.”

Being in the Midwest, the day was unusually peaceful. The cloudless sky showed off the summer sun with pride, the grounds were untouched by merciful mother nature, and the wind was nonexistent. Orville and Wilbur would curse those calm days, and the flying toy would stay in the shadows of Orville’s room.

Wilbur walked in the kitchen and put the dish on the kitchen counter. Just before he could start cleaning it, a soft knock drove him out of his wandering thoughts. The older teen raised an eyebrow before making his way out of the kitchen.

“Orville?” he said when he opened the front door. “Shouldn’t you be filling that empty head of yours?”

His little brother chuckled. “You’re one to talk. I came to talk with Ma.”

“Don’t know if that’s a good idea. You know how she is, if she sees you, you won’t hear the end of it.” He only shrugged. There was something about his face that Wilbur couldn’t help but notice. His eyes shimmered with strange determination. As he entered the house, his pace was fast and those strong-willed irises darted from the furniture with the speed of a cheetah. 

And Orville did the same. The moment the door opened, he was overwhelmed by the apathy his brother radiated. He knew he had changed in some way ever since the accident, but he never thought he would ever feel whiplash in the presence of his brother. When it was over, he wished he was brave enough to make Oliver pay and take his father’s angry lectures as a man rather than simply watch Wilbur become less of himself by the moment. 

But now was not the time to focus on the past.

He entered his mother’s room to see the frail woman on her bed. “Orville?” she said, just above a whisper. He knelt by the bed, putting a hand over hers. Her sharp, cold skin sent shivers down his spine.

“Ma, before you say anything, I want you to hear me out,” he began. Wilbur silently walked in the room and leaned against the doorway. 

“School’s not going well for me. I think I’m going to drop out.”

His mother’s eyes widened slightly. “What? Do you know how-” She erupted into a series of coughs and Orville jumped back. Wilbur pushed passed him, grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand, and poured the cold liquid down her throat. 

Orville waited until silence was the only noise in the room. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, “it’s just not working for me.”

Wilbur turned and glared daggers at him. “You wait here, Mother, Orville and I are going to talk for a minute.”

“Wait…” she gasped out, but the boys have already left the room.

“I thought the biggest idiot in this world was the neighbor who ran in his burning home to save a piece of jewelry. But now… now you’re taking his place!” he yelled as soon as the siblings reached the other side of the house.

“I’m sorry, but it’s all too much! I want to do something more than solve little equations and learn the same history lesson over and over again.”

“So what, you just left? You left an opportunity to make a life worth living?”

“I never left. I still have a future. School is just not it.”

“I swear, if you don’t go back, I’ll drag you back there and make sure you don’t come out!” He was glad Katherine was out with her friend, or else she would replace their mother and lecture them for hours. That was the last thing he needed.

“I’m sorry, Wilbur-”

“Stop with the apologies! If you’re really sorry, you suck it up and go right back into that classroom. We don’t need another worthless child in this family.” Orville fell silent. Wilbur let out a heavy breath and looked away when he realized what he had said. It was almost as if he was talking in the mirror. 

“Wilbur, that’s not true and you know it,” his younger brother said. “Ma wouldn’t be half as healthy if you hadn’t stayed here.”

He sniffed, cursing his body for even thinking about crying. “I stayed here because there’s nowhere else for me to go. If I can’t bother to read a book, what good am I?”

Orville sighed and wrapped his arms around him. The last time they hugged like this was when he was six and Wilbur was eight, and Wilbur comforted him about another toy he broke. They were glad no one else was around; it was embarrassing enough already. 

“I can help with Ma, and after she gets better, we’re gonna start a company and get a lot of money.”

“You idiot. Do you know how much that would cost us? And you don’t know the first thing about starting a company.” Orville pulled away and smiled. “Then you can find a way.” 

Wilbur softly laughed. “Fine.”

For the rest of the year, they did everything they could to help their mother. She didn’t have the strength to scold Orville on his decision anymore, so his father did it for her. He yelled and sometimes threw him out of the house to “make him experience what will happen” (as he would say) if he didn’t go back. Yet, Orville persisted, claiming that he and Wilbur were going to find a way to survive without school.

Meanwhile, Wilbur stayed in the background. For some reason, his father was easier on him. Of course, he had the hour-long lectures, but ever since he began taking care of Susan, they had grown distant. Still, he ignored this, and their relationship continued to be a struggling flame in an active snowstorm. 

And soon, that flame would burn out. 

In 1889, the light of death finally consumed her. 

The Wright brothers sat in the front row of the crowd. The casket containing his mother’s body refused to leave the youngest’s line of sight. The older, however, felt as if his eyes would explode if he took a glimpse. Their father’s words were only echoes.

“God blessed me with an angel, and it seems…” he began, obviously suppressing a sob. Wilbur drowned out the rest of eulogy. Orville was too distracted to listen.

The church was filled with nothing but despair. Katherine and Ida cried so loud that the heavens must have heard them. Lorin hid his face from the crowd. Reuchlin was looking out the window. The brothers didn’t talk to them that day. 

It wasn’t long before the two stood at the grave of their mother. Wilbur shouldn’t be crying because he knew this was coming. Despite repressing those thoughts every day and every night, reality always haunted him. His mother’s illness had no cure, so no matter what he did, he could not prevent the inevitable. 

Orville put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” was all he muttered, and he pulled his brother away from the grave. I’m sorry, Ma, he apologized, I’ll make us into men that you’d have to be proud of. A wind of encouragement blew past him, rustling the leaves of the trees next to the grave.

Several years have passed since their mother’s death. Their father fell into a depressive state and urged his children to leave him alone. Thanks to him, Orville was able to convince Wilbur to come live with him in his house. From selling newspapers to designing bikes, they earned enough money to make a living. But, was it really enough?

“I know we enjoy this and all, but is this what we’re only going to do?” Wilbur asked, sitting down on his bed. He and Orville just came back from another day of work. 

���Of course not. This bicycle business is only to get us some money,” Orville’s voice responded from the other side of the tenement. He poked his head into the room, grinning widely. “The real dream is over here.”

Wilbur let out a silent sigh and followed him to the ‘office’, which was just the kitchen covered in papers. The only thing that piqued his interest was what was on them. “I went ahead and made some pictures of what real aircraft will look like. What’d ya’ think?” Orville said.

“When did you make these?” Wilbur asked.

“Not too long ago. I just hid them so I could surprise you!” The older sibling raised an eyebrow. Never thought I’d see a twenty-five-year-old man act like a ten-year-old girl.

“Um, this is interesting and all…” Wilbur slowly walked up to one of the papers and picked it up. The drawing contained a large mechanical vehicle with open seats in the middle while propellers sat in the far end. Large paper-looking wings held up by what he thought were sticks hung at the sides. “...But why?” he finished.

“Why? Didn’t you read the newspaper the other day?” Orville ran out of the room, and a short moment later he came back with a newspaper in his hands. He set it down on the small table and flipped through it until he came to the page he wanted to show his brother. He pointed to one of the headlines:

German Aviator Otto Lilienthal Dies From Aircraft Crash

“A lot of people want to fly, Wilbur,” Orville started, “but they can’t if they don’t do it right.”

Wilbur had heard about aircraft testing and was lucky enough to read about aeronautics in the past. Though he wasn’t entirely focused on it, his love and hope for flight had never died. In fact, the decaying flying toy sat in him and his brother’s room. Even so… “Can we really do it?” he said, quickly skimming the article.

“Hm? Of course we can! All we need is some parts, coffee, and a place to fly. As long as we can put enough back into it, we’ll be richer than the British monarchy. And besides, you basically said it yourself that you didn’t want to make bikes forever.”

That, he couldn’t deny. A few years ago, he did like the idea of designing their own brand of bikes. And yet, inside him, he felt as though something was missing… Maybe this was it? 

“I don’t think I can make this project last long without a wise-guy like you, man,” Orville said. 

What was he talking about? His drawing and notes made enough sense for it to be possible. Not to mention the aircraft’s architecture convinced him that it could have plenty of stability to stay in the air with someone in it, if they had the right equipment. However, there was one thing that was off.

“Balance,” he said. “The aircraft needs to be balanced so it doesn’t get out of control. We’ll need…” He looked at his brother, who had his head tilted at him. “How much money do we have?”

Orville hesitated, then grinned when he realized what he meant. “Enough to test several times over.”

“Well then, let’s get to work.”

‘Dear Samuel Langley,’ Wilbur wrote on the cleanest sheet of paper he could find. Behind him was his brother, counting up the cash they had earned in the past few years. ‘My name is Wilbur Wright. My brother, Orville Wright, and I would be honored to possess some of your works on aeronautics. We have been informed that you worked on Otto Lilienthal’s aircraft, and we ask for your knowledge of its architecture.

Ever since the day of Lilienthal’s death, we plan to give our blood, sweat, and tears to make an aircraft powerful enough to let hundreds of people soar through the skies. However, we know little about the science of flight, and we believe that you could bring us that knowledge. We only ask for a few books. Even one is more than enough. Just anything that can let us work our fingers to the bone.

With your help, a dream of human flight will become reality. Thank you, Wilbur Wright.’

A few weeks later, multiple books appeared on their doorstep, and they immediately took them in. “Holy-! Wilbur, look!” Orville shouted. Wilbur turned his attention from the other books and walked over to him. His eyes widened when he held Lilienthal’s book in his hands. They flipped through the pages, taking in every drawing, entry, and recording of the progress of his aircraft experiences.

 The brothers took turns staying up all night studying each book on what made existing aircraft possible. Soon, they narrowed down to what they needed to do: how to get the wings to stabilize the vehicle while it’s in the air.

They looked for things that could naturally fly to see how they made themselves consistently stable. Once the Wright brothers found it, they took their notebooks and binoculars to the local park. 

“Those birds…” Wilbur said, watching the creatures fly through the sunny sky. “They don’t necessarily put too much work in their wings, don’t they?” The birds have only flapped their wings four to six times, as he noted. They kept their wings still by their sides and just let themselves glide with the wind as their accelerator. 

“Maybe our aircrafts can do that?” Orville suggested. 

They decided to test his theory. With the help of Lilientha’s data and wood to hold up the hundred square foot fabric wings, they built their first-ever glider. Two large rectangular wings stood above and below each other while behind held up by wood. In the middle was a hole that would allow the users’ knees to stick out while their feet held onto the back. Wood horizontally stood in the front of the hole where the user’s chest would be supported. A few weeks later, they were ready to test.

But, Dayton proved to be quite useless as the testing sight. When they sent off their glider, it dropped right to the ground with no effort. The brothers covered their faces in embarrassment. 

“Well, what now?” Orville sighed, resting his head on the kitchen table. 

“Don’t pout like that. We’ll just find us a place that’s more suitable. Now, what place has a lot of wind and is private enough for our experiment?” That night, they were still lost. But when it seemed like they were at an impasse, Wilbur came up with an idea. He researched the windiest states and cities closest to Ohio, and a week later, they were headed to North Carolina, bringing as much equipment as they could carry. When they arrived, they paid for their hotel and rented out a large building with nothing but empty space inside. It was perfect for building numerous aircrafts.

Yet, when they followed Lilientha’s data to the tenth place, something about their glider was off. They decided to make adjustments (using stronger fabric, putting more and less wood under the wings, switching between who was going to be pilot), but it was useless. Nothing worked.

“Maybe they were wrong,” Wilbur said. He scanned Lilithenal’s notes again. “Then what’re we supposed to do? We can’t improve something if it was wrong the whole time,” Orville groaned, leaning against the wall.

“It’s not like you to act dumb, Orville. Of course we can.” Wilbur closed the book. “We just need to take a different route.”

His face glowed instantly, like a lightbulb just turned on in his mind. “Let’s build a wind tunnel,” he suggested, “so we can observe how the wings move with the airflow and measure constant velocity. We can also catch what goes wrong with the current wings.”

His big brother smiled. “There he is. For that, we’ll need a large fan and a room we can look into. And we’ll have to test the wind tunnel first just so we can make sure ours is efficient,” Wilbur explained. “First, let’s find a fan that’s powerful enough to be used against the glider.”

“I know what we need. Wilbur, are you okay with handling the smaller models of the wings?” Orville asked. “Yes. What are you going to do?” his brother asked. 

“Don’t worry, leave it to me.”

Wilbur did as his brother asked. He designed a smaller, but not too small, pair of wings that looked exactly like the ones on the glider. Without warning, Orville kicked the door open and dragged in a large box with a fan attached to the end. Wilbur covered his ears at the sound of the boxes’ legs screeching against the floor. 

“Aha, sorry…” Orville said sheepishly. “But, I got us our wind tunnel!” He went to the side of the box and pulled up a small door, revealing the darkened inside. Inside that darkness was some sort of stand with horizontal sticks on two of its inside ends sitting near the top. “With this little creation, we can measure how the wing moves against the wind and its pressure. We can see how much it lifts and how it drags.” 

“Then what’re we waiting for? Let’s get started,” Wilbur said and handed him the wings. Orville grabbed them and attached it to the top of the stand. After closing the door, he rushed to the fan and turned it on, then led Wilbur to the far end where the side was nothing but glass. They fell in silence, focusing on nothing but the wings. 

The wind pushed against the wings and they quickly flew off and crashed into the glass. If the glass wasn’t there, the wings could have smacked their faces. “...I think we need a different set of wings,” Orville commented. “Thanks, genius, never thought we had to do that,” Wilbur remarked with sarcasm. He got up and turned off the fan, then lifted up the door to grab the wings. 

The second pair, which was longer and curvier, couldn’t produce as much lift as the other pair and the drag caused the wings to move too slow. The third pair, which was a little shorter and straighter, lifted a lot faster than the second, but the drag was too insignificant. They produced more and more wing models until their fingers were numb. Sometimes, they accidentally cut themselves with the steel.

The hours of work and days of testing one hundred eighty-nine (Orville counted) wings, they eventually find the pair. Their long, teardrop shapes lifted perfectly against the wind, and their drag proved to be just as efficient: not too fast and not too fast. They instantly abandoned the other test models and created the gliders’ wings’ final form.

Orville laid in the aircraft and nodded at his brother. Wilbur pushed the aircraft and the glider took off. Just like the models in the wind tunnel, these allowed the wind to lift him in the air, and the drag stayed constant. The only thing he wished they changed was how they could land. About fifteen seconds in, the wind disappeared, and Orville landed right into the sand. 

“Just as I thought,” Wilbur mumbled under his breath, helping him off the ground. “Ugh, what?” his little brother said, wiping the sand off his clothes. 

“We need to make the aircraft more mobile so we don’t end up like Lilithenal,” he answered. He looked over to the glider. And I think I know just how to do that.

“What’s this?” Orville asked the next day when he walked in the large empty building where they made their inventions. In front of his brother were tools and a medium-sized flat rectangle made of the same materials as their glider. 

“You know how I keep saying the aircraft lacks control?” Wilbur asked, and he nodded. “Well, I made us something called an elevator. With this, the one flying in the aircraft can control the wings so the balance won’t be off all the time.”

Orville nodded. “Yeah, I see what you’re saying...And-”

“And because I invented it, I will be the one to test it.” Orville stopped and glared. “What? Don’t give me that look. I’m the big brother anyway, so I get to do things first.”

“And you’re the one calling me childish all the time…”

Once they were finished attaching the elevator to the glider, Wilbur hopped into the glider, his knees poking out of the little hole and stomach resting on the fabric above. With the help of his brother, he was sent into the air. The movement was rocky, but despite it, Wilbur strangely felt at peace. After a few seconds of wind accelerating the glider, the wings began to shift to the left on their own. Wilbur gripped onto the handles of the elevator and slowly shifted them back to the right. The aircraft managed to keep itself in the air for the time being. 

He quickly realized that he was gliding right towards the ground. He took a deep breath and carefully pushed the elevator up. The wings shifted upwards, and he was back in the air. He looked down at Orville, and, while even being in the air, could see his big smile cheering him on. Wilbur formed his own grin and titled the elevator down.

“Wing warping,” Orville suddenly said when Wilbur reached the ground. “What?” he said, breathing heavily.

“While you were shifting the wings, it came to me. Just like birds, you controlled the wings so you can be better adjusted to the air.”

“Why do we have to give it a name?” Wilbur asked.

“Because people might ask what the method is called when we get interviewed. Plus, we invented it, so we have to give it a name. Edison didn’t invent the light just to call it ‘thing that can make light,’ right?”

Wilbur snickered. “Alright fine. Anyway, I think we need to add something to make the aircraft last longer in the air.”

“Way ahead of you. Come on, I have an idea.”

The brothers headed back to the building. Orville showed Wilbur the damaged flying toy they brought with them. As soon as the older brother saw rudder-like things on its tail, he quickly knew what his brother was saying. They put the toy back and went to work. 

By some miracle, their predictions were right. With the rudders they attached on the back of the glider, the rocky movement he experienced before greatly decreased. He soared through the skies, like a bird hungry for adventure zooming from its mother’s nest. If he was daring enough, he could probably take a nap here. 

But he couldn’t rest yet. They could now add power to the soon-to-be aircraft.

“So what did you two need my help with?” the Wright brother’s friend, Charles Taylor asked. They brought him in from Dayton because of his intellect with machinery. He was quite useful during their construction of original bike brands.

“We need to build an engine powerful enough to support an aircraft, and all of the others being sold couldn’t quite fit the requirements. They were all much too heavy,” Wilbur informed. The brothers walked him to the door of the large building and opened it. Charles flinched at the sight of their large glider. Orville gave him a quick explanation for the situation.

“Hmm, then I guess I’ll have to use aluminum instead of iron...” Charles explained, his eyes darting over to the glider. He gave it an intense stare for a few seconds before saying, “What will it specifically power?” 

“We were thinking about adding propellers to help it lift in the air. Could that work?” Orville suggested. 

“Guess we’ll have to find out. I’ll get some equipment and you boys start on the propellers.” The brothers followed Charles’ instructions, and about an hour later, he came back with boxes of machinery. 

As they helped him bring the boxes in, he asked, “So you two want people to fly because you were bored with bikes?”

“Ahaha, not really…” Orville trailed off, huffing when he put down one of the boxes. “It’s actually a dream we had ever since we were kids.”

“Really? I only heard y’all mention aircraft a few times at the bike shop.”

“We didn’t have much money at the time, so we couldn’t really do anything about it,” Wilbur said.

“Ah, makes sense. Everything’s getting more expensive these days. Alright, I think this is the last box.” Charles sat the box down and put his hands on his hips. “By the way, just because I can make it smaller, it’ll still be a little heavy with all the combustion chambers and crankcase and such. I don’t think it’ll work well with fabric and wood.”

With that, the brothers began manufacturing steel propellers and managed to get stronger wood to support them properly. At the same time, the machinist silently prepared them an engine suitable for powering human flight. As the three men were oblivious to time, hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and those months transformed into a year. Luckily, they used that time to put more weight into the aircraft. Finally, after an eternity of waiting, Charles was finished. 

“There you are, fellas!” he said with a big grin. The smaller engine’s aluminum skin gleamed in the afternoon sunlight that shined through the windows. “All you need to do is put the gasoline in this tank right here-,” he pointed to the small tank on the engine’s right, “-and it should mix with the air that comes from the air intake, assembling the ignition in these cylinders right there-,” he pointed to the four combustion cylinders that hung below the flat surface at the top, “-and go right through the fuel line no problem! Now we just need to find a way to make that fuel go right to the propellers.”

“Thanks, Charles, we dunno what we’d do without you,” Orville. 

“Hey, anytime. By the way, you guys said you needed these?” Charles went towards the back where the boxes sat patiently, waiting to be helpful after days of being untouched. He dug through one of them and pulled out chains and a couple of sprockets. When the brothers wrote to him the first time, they asked him to bring those from the bike shop.

“We figured that those would be needed,” Wilbur said, walking up to him and taking the two objects from his hands. “What for?” Charles asked curiously. 

“You know how we used those to build bikes?” Orville started. “We attached the sprockets to the pedal and wheel, and connected the two with a chain so they could move. So, if we attached the sprocket to the engine to power it up, we can connect that with the chain. Then, we can attach the other end of the chain to the second sprocket that’s attached to the propellers.”

“Oh, I see, like one big bicycle,” Charles said. “Well then, let’s power this baby up.”

Just like in Orville’s explanation, they attached one sprocket to the crankshaft part of the engine, then wrapped a chain around it. With the other sprocket, they attached it to the end of the long pole that connected to the propeller. They did the same actions for the other propeller. 

The next morning, the first heavier-than-air powered vehicle had its first taste of the clouds.

“Ready, Wilbur?” Orville shouted. His big brother laid on his stomach on the pilot’s seat of the aircraft. He looked back to see Charles and his friends (four men and one woman, who were invited to come see the Wright brothers’ success) standing far behind the propellers. His younger brother was behind the engine, ready to activate it. 

“Yes, sir!” he yelled. In the next few seconds, the engine was activated. The back of the aircraft sputtered, like an old man coughing out his struggling lungs, and Wilbur’s heart skipped a beat. He gripped the handles of the elevator. After a long, tense moment, the propellers turned slowly, then faster, and faster, and faster until he couldn’t see the individual blades anymore.

The aircraft bounced and carefully lifted itself off of the ground. Wilbur was suddenly pushed through the air by a gust of wind, and he took flight amongst the clouds. 

It took quick thrusts to the right and left, and at some points, Wilbur thought he was dropping to the ground. He tilted the wings to where they could move against the eastern airflow and moved upwards. Another sputter left the engine, and he heard nothing but the whistling wind and hum of the propellers. 

Was he doing it? Is it working? Everything inside him felt light and fluttery. Wilbur moved his gaze from the ground and looked up at the sky. The sun stared at him from above while the birds stood clear of the flying man. It might have only been a few seconds, but compared to their other tests, this flight was a decade long. 

He let out a soft laugh. It worked, Mother, we did it.

He titled the wings to their left and flew back around. Ant-sized people stared up at him, and one of them was jumping for joy. A sputter erupted from the engine again, and Wilbur decided that it was time to let his wings rest.

He landed the aircraft back on the ground and jumped out of it. “So, what’d you think?” he said to the crowd. Charles had a huge, excited smile on his face while his friends looked stunned. “See, what’d I tell ya? These guys are geniuses!” he said to the small crowd.

“I think we’re about to be the richest men in the world!” Orville shouted. He ran up to the aircraft and hugged it like a father embracing his child. 

“B-But will anyone believe it?” one of Charles’ friends stuttered, staring at the aircraft. “I mean, a flying car, the press will think you’re joking!”

“Oh, they will,” Wilbur stated, crossing his arms. “Once they see this thing fly across the world, they’ll have no choice but to believe it.”