The [fasten seatbelt] sign flashed, and Bono looked up to the air hostess by his side. She was forty - and a wonderful sight that caught him off guard. He smiled to let her know she was beautiful and that it was alright to be beautiful if she wanted.

“Sir, Mr. Bono. Please fasten your safety belt.” “Yes, ma’am.”

She was taken back by his accent. She could hear his voice in her head, like she did a thousand times before but it never quite sounded like it did when he spoke to her just now.

Bono did up his safety belt. “Thank you,” she said.

He turned away from her beauty and looked out the small window to his left. The sky was beautiful over the Atlantic.

And then he looked again.

It was the coast of North America. He knew he was somewhere near Nova Scotia, and he looked at what he thought was possibly Boston. It had a warm hazy glow. It was hard to tell. He wasn't quite sure what he was seeing.

A white light lit up the world, like ten thousand camera flashes on a British Princess. He felt it pass through his body, through his soul. In an instance, it was like every molecule in his body was rearranged for a different purpose. It passed through him, and he was still alive.

Then the shockwave hit them. It was not unlike really bad turbulence.

The wing of the plane was on fire. He gripped his seat. He felt sick. Nausea. He thought he was going to pass out.

Stay awake. You need to stay awake.

The plane dropped 200 feet in a second. He had a lot of songs in his head he’d never committed to paper. Songs he’d never had the chance to record. Melodies no one but his wife had ever heard.

The captain came on and tried to reassure him. He tried to reassure the whole cabin and the flight crew but Bono knew this was abnormal.

The [fasten seatbelt] sign came on and off again and again. He looked at the man beside him: thirty, a business type, and young- looking. He exchanged a fearful glance with him. He could see into the man’s eyes, and they were looking for direction from an idol - an idol he’d never met, but had seen in countless interviews and rock videos and even once in person from the twenty-second row.

Bono regained himself. The nausea left for a moment.

“It’s going to be alright,” Bono said very softly. He just had the feeling that it was. “Thank you,” said the man, “I saw you once.” “Sorry?” “I saw you once. During Achtung Baby. I flew down to New York with my girlfriend at the time. It was amazing. The Edge. I love him. He’s the most awesome guitar player ever. Don’t you think?” “I love The Edge, too.”

He did love The Edge, thought Bono. And then Bono turned against the window and looked in horror at the darkening sky, and at the fireball scorching the land surrounded by complete blackness, that was the coast of North America.