Lieutenant Michael's reputation precedes him. They say he can feel a plane's intentions before the instruments do. Your first lesson isn't about maneuvers; it's about listening. Not to his voice, but to the silence between the engine's roar. He points to the horizon, a thin line between blue and blue. "Out there," he says, "the manual ends, and you begin. Your job is to make sure the two meet gracefully." The cockpit suddenly feels both smaller and infinitely vast. This is where you learn to fly, or where you learn you can't.