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Luxembourg had traveled many times to see other nations from around the world, for his own pleasure and on Benelux's behalf, but when he opened the door and stepped out after tipping the driver, his eyes widened, and he covered his mouth as a faint gasp escaped.
"What in the world...?" he stammered. The driver who raced him there with her lead foot was already taking off rapidly with more horsepower than a Formula 1 driver. He thought that he heard unidentifiable mumbling when the wheels spun, kicking up a faint cloud of particulates and screeching off into the distance, the sun barely starting to peak over the flat horizon.
Luxembourg yanked the phone out of his formal, light blue suit pockets and turned on the screen, flinching and closing his eyes for a second at the harsh stream of light in the darkness of dawn. It was, so his eyes told him, the right address that his partner Molossia said to catch a ride to when the Southwestern plane landed. However, soon as he could double-check, triple-check, and quadruple-check in disbelief, the screen began powering down.
There goes that plan.
"This must be a mistake. No, this must be a dream! There's no way this thing could be real!" he tried convincing himself.
Hovering perhaps hundreds of meters above him were long, massive air balloon gondolas. Woven as baskets are from colorful strips of fiber like a tulip field, they rolled out like rugs in the sky, curving at the edges like a fountain bowl. Those gondolas, leveled islands in the sky, stretched so far in span that they would be rivaled only by clouds that traversed around them. At these waking hours, he could only make out their shape. They twinkled with the dimmest of red lights, perhaps so as to not disturb the vision of any nearby stargazers who stood on the earth beneath. Further above them, he could see vague arcs of light floating above them, whose span would unfold many times more widely than the gondolas.
Standing in front of him was an innocuous-looking bus stop with a waiting bench, except the usual stop sign did not keep its companion. Instead, in front of him was an already semi-lifted, stationary air balloon. On the front of its small, woven, presumably plain gondola was a hand-sized paper note with a curved, charcoal-toned outline. In thin, meticulous pen ink, it invited, "Fly with me."
Luxembourg glanced over his left and right shoulders in search of a flight attendant, someone to get a ticket from, or any presence who could pass through his line of sight and listen to his barrage of questions. No one was there. Barren expanse sprawled from every side where he could spot the sun climbing steadily higher, revealing more or the imposing majesty of those flying isles. What appeared to be a plane or even a flying star seemed to flash briefly from behind where the isles ended, but it was hard to tell.
If this was just a groggy, jet-lag dream, he thought, it would be fine to just step in, right? While his citizens were trying to encourage more public transport, walks, and cycling as means to move around his country, and he was the first adopter of the initiative, he wasn't exactly familiar with hot air ballooning. This would still be safe, yes?
He gingerly placed one foot after the next into the basket. France first bedazzled the public with this species of floating contraption in 1783, but Luxembourg himself had since only seen them from a distance or in scenic photos, such as over the rocky landscape in Cappadocia, Turkey. Up close and personal, he took in the metallic framing that held aloft a quadrant of cylindrical burners, below what appeared to him like giant springs. Normally with rugged bars, here they looked almost like a thick chandelier. It even shone in a warm, almost copper-toned finish instead of the usual steel thanks to special corrosion-resistant coating.
Cables with attached handles were mounted above him, and he could see where the air would be vented, currently closed. Lines ran up the large balloon of enveloping fabric like a contorted graph colored in by a daydreaming schoolchild, or perhaps the view from inside a translucent globe with latitude and longitude lines near the north pole. To his side by the walls of the basket, cylinder tanks labeled "Biofuel" had pipes that latched out to the burners, and a box with a red cross and a fire extinguisher were in close reach.
A bit incongruously for an otherwise bit antique contraption, a computerized display panel that the basket contained was sleek, modern, and seemingly easy to use. When he pressed a button labeled "ON/OFF" out of curiosity, like a modern vehicle, the panel opened him up to basic information about the altitude—zeroed to the floor of gondola basket—the detected wind speed and direction, air temperature (reminding him almost of an oven), time features, and even a GPS.
"What do ya think?!" a voice searched from behind him, bellowing with enthusiasm. Luxembourg's shoulders rose, and halting, he turned around.
"Jason, you startled me! I'm so glad to see you again," he confessed. "I missed you." His eyes were watering a smidge because of how long they'd been apart, his schedule always being booked from dusk to dawn. A wobbly smile escaped from himself as he leaped towards Molossia to hug him tightly. Molossia reciprocated, his usual defensive walls crumbling in Luxembourg's presence.
"I missed ya too. Calls ain't quite the same."
It was an unusual sight for Luxembourg when he first saw Molossia with his hair down in his garden. His bangs and the rest of his hair hung straight to his face, which held a softer, gentler expression than the prickly "Don't cross me" sign that he normally wore. He kept his deep-tinted sunglasses on him at the pocket of his classic salmon collared shirt, which he wore beneath a dark olive-green jacket. The so-called hermit was, contrary to first impression, not a hermit or so odd once someone got to know him. An earthy fellow with a chip on his shoulder, he was best compared to that other wild country who felt a need to put up a distrustful guard.
"These lights are fantastic. What are they, and why are they here?"
"Well, it's a long story. You see, I pay taxes to Al and all, but I'd been getting more annoyed by that f- I mean, ahem, jerk," he cleared his throat and lowered his voice, trying to control his vulgarity more often around Luxembourg, although sometimes it slipped out. His relation to America was always complex. He knew the man personally but for the most part felt unacknowledged by him, more like a stain of embarrassment that America kept polite relations with and didn't do much for in return.
"'Cause the service in Las Vegas has gotten so rotten the past few years, more tourists have been skipping trips to Nevada entirely. It's like a gateway to the rest of the state. I hear they kept rigging games and machines even more than usual to make up for lost profits! And everything costs too damn much on The Strip, when they used to hand out refreshments at casinos for free! I swear Al Capone ran the place better than these clowns!" he exaggerated.
"Well, I also feel bad for the guy. He's crumbling under his own personal issues lately, and I thought, 'The dude likes aliens, right?' I thought it'd give the state and Dayton more intrigue, playing up to the whole Area 51 thing."
"It's purely amazing," Luxembourg praised. "I can't speak for America, but it's your own token of appreciation. I'm sure that he'll see what you mean."
"Well, he might not even know yet, because we were keeping it all secret. We just got them launched, not to mention who's on board..." Luxembourg placed a curled index finger near his chin. "I still care for him. I just like living on my own terms, in a way of life beyond his." His partner politely nodded. It isn't always smooth sailing for micronations, huh?
"Well, I don't wanna bore you." Molossia put a hand behind his neck before patting Luxembourg's shoulder. He could jab the entire day if someone let him, albeit with a mouth so colorful, it was never safe around parrots. "We have a lot of catching up, and I have better plans in mind for us," he winked. "Let's go!" In a flurry of movements with his arms, Molossia began raising the air balloon up for their flight to the isles.
With a gust of heat and the roaring flames, they were steadily up, up, and away. The sun was now partly ascended over the earth, cloaked in tangerine rays that melted into the blue expanse, and the illumination from the gondola isles shut down for daytime. The rest of the ride was fairly smooth and mostly straightforward going up. It was almost like a slow, outdoor elevator with a breeze and a panoramic view. The ground was populated with shrubs, trees, parks, and even yards created by the residents (including Molossia's own garden). Around Dayton, Nevada, the city where Molossia declared unrecognized independence, the roofs of buildings loosely banded together, more like dispersed atoms in a vapor than a solid, and fused frontier, Victorian, and contemporary.
Once they braced for the landing with a slight bump, Molossia secured the balloon before they exited. Looking straight up now, Luxembourg noticed a slight shimmer to the fabric of the behemoth balloons that held up the archipelago of gondolas at a skyscraper's height from where they stood.
"These balloons look very different," he conmented.
"Oh yeah, they're solar powered!"
"Eeh? Really?"
"Yep! We covered the balloons in extremely thin, light, cheap, and efficient solar cells. It offsets some of what we do up here."
"Incredible! I was wondering, too, what do you have up here? It doesn't seem that secure." Oh no, Luxembourg thought. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. It sounded like he was detracting from all the hard work, creativity, and passion that his partner put into this. He was normally good at keeping a positive atmosphere. Molossia didn't seem to notice, however, to his relief.
"Haha, why don't I just show you?" Luxembourg perked up upon hearing that, and Molossia took him by the hand, running on top of the gondola basket flooring with the other trying to keep up.
Occasional spirals, circles, and floral patterns in different colors from the rest of the surface were woven beneath them on their mad dash. There was not just one giant isle but several, if marginally smaller ones that could be safely crossed with level bridges connecting them. The bridge's guardrails formed arches that held up a roof and walls made of a strange, almost transparent, raincoat-like material. Nonetheless, the height would be terrifying to anyone who was not used to it and decided to glance down briefly, as Luxembourg did, pretending to be fearless as he stuck closer to Molossia's side during those passages.
"We could probably bring our bicycles, but maybe another time," Molossia suggested playfully. Luxembourg was not having it.
For such a vast surface, most of it was practically deserted, with nothing in sight but the gondolas and connecting bridges. Just as Luxembourg was considering how and whether or not to comment on that fact, it was as if Molossia read his mind.
"I know there ain't much up here yet, but I think some mountain flowers and high-altitude veggies would also be nice. The others have been camping here all night."
'The others?' Luxembourg still wondered.
Finally, just as Luxembourg's legs were about to give out, and he had seen nothing but stretches of gondola flooring and cloud-swept skies, they came across a large party tent with a medley of abstract murals, including coffee mugs encircling it like a carousel. A canvas on an easel stand to the left had Coffee Over Nevada painted over it, and a small sign that said "Now open!" with a smiley face, hung over the top. The entrance draped down and dampened the identities of the barely detectable chatter and classical music (to Luxembourg's surprise) inside, and the cut out windows were translucent yet opaque enough to hide the excitement.
"Wanna get some coffee?" It was still fairly early in the day.
"Will it wake me up? Because it feels like I'm still dreaming."
Entering the makeshift coffee shop, Molossia quickly putting back on his sunglasses and smoothing back his hair as he usually does in public, Luxembourg's eyes turned to how professional it looked inside. Realistic cabinets, bookshelves, and Roman numeral clocks were painted along the walls, in lieu of how heavy real ones would be on the gondola isles. Rustic wooden tables each had their own tiny succulent plants and swivel chairs for coffee enjoyers to sit down and relax. At the one corner of the coffee store was a speaker playing the piano melodies in minor keys that drifted their way outside.
The back where people ordered had a few containers of fresh coffee beans lined up in a neat row with labels on each, a brewery, a row of mugs, some take-out cups, a minimal sink, and a mini-fridge that kept additional ingredients and food that weren't on the counter. An assortment of coffee cakes, bagels, bread slices (presumably for cold sandwiches), and cookies were also arranged.
"Art! We have reached true art within art on these mysterious isles!" a familiar pipsqueak in long braided pigtails dramatized, staring at the clutches that he made with his palms. "Is coffee not an art?! Do you not consider this art?!" It was unclear to Luxembourg and Molossia who was even being asked those questions.
"Just ignore him," a young bushy-eyebrowed, bushy-ponytailed girl advised with an eye roll. "No wonder Mr. Austria doesn't know what to do with you."
"Aw! But Wy, Kugelmugel is so funny!" another bushy-eyebrowed youngster, wearing a white sailor hat, squealed before giggling and holding his stomach, not just at the accidental pun. They were all wearing matching plain beige aprons.
"You have a weird idea of 'funny,'" Wy snarked.
"Yeah, Sealand! What's so funny about aRT?!"
"You're one to talk!" Wy snapped.
"Hey! Whatcha all chipmunks fighting for when I just brought my partner?!" Molossia interrupted their argument. "He's our first guest, on the house!"
"Our first...?" Wy questioned as Sealand pointed his finger back and forth to a table in the corner, gesturing his eyes.
"Hey..." Canada politely waved a hand, not even fully lifting his fingers before dozing off again with his head resting back towards the wall. Canada could go to sleep in the weirdest of places.
"Just like the unbelievably awesome warriors drinking it, this coffee is the best!" Prussia cheered, slamming his emptied mug onto the wooden table, causing it to briefly shake. For a moment he had a remorseful face after the jolt before trying to ignore that it happened. "I forgot that my sweet Mattie gets the opposite effect of most people from caffeine! I ordered both of us a cappuccino when I was too tired to know better... But I'll make sure he's up before we get back!"
"Hold up! How did the pot-smoking maple leaf and the bird lover who'd marry himself get here?! I at least know the chipmunks had camped here all night."
"Hey! I am full of myself but I'm only marrying Mattie!"
"Quit calling us chipmunks! How demeaning," Wy sulked. Peter nodded, placing his hands on his hips to lambast the other micronation.
"Fine then, midgets," Molossia retorted, jokingly of course. Wy stuck out a tongue.
"Kesesese, we came here with Mattie's idiot bro and the bro's idiot boyfriend!"
"What?!"
"Yep, out back!" Sealand chimed in. "I was so excited, because I thought it was a transformer robot at first! But it was just America, Japan, and some short alien guy all in a flying saucer with the landing lights dimmed low."
"Where did they go?" Luxembourg asked, scanning the coffee shop. He now recalled the brief streak of light that he saw towards the furthest ends of the floating isles when he first arrived.
"Alfred decided that we should split up into two groups to look for the aliens in different directions," Prussia explained. "I went with Mattie and found the micronations' coffee shop, while Al dragged Kiku and Tony out to look for the aliens."
"Hahahahaha," a slightly annoying laugh, identifiable to anyone, sounded from outside as heavy footsteps progressed towards their already lively group, in sync with another person's footsteps. Speak of the devil.
"Oh no," Molossia griped, dragging his palm across his face. He was hoping to invite America some other time soon when he was less wound up about seeing Luxembourg again, but now he didn't have much of a choice.
"So if this really is the aliens' planetary observational balloons, what are they observing us for? We should make contact and establish a peace treaty with them as soon as possible!"
"And it'd be great if we could show them all our world's beautiful cultures," Japan agreed with a vague sense of déjà vu. As they lifted the drapes at the entrance, with Tony behind them sipping out of a refillable water bottle (America told him to cut down on sweet drinks so that he could too, and Tony's response was typical Tony), America made a silent "Oh."
"Yo, wassup guys?!" America smiled and waved heartedly. "You're all here to meet the aliens too? Or don't tell me, you already met them before they left?"
"Aliens are not art, you hamburger enjoyer," Kugelmugel suddenly chastized him. America put up his arms in mock fear while Tony silently glared at Kugelmugel, who ignored his presence. America heard from Switzerland that he might have a 'dangerous aura' or something that he can't punch if he's in danger. "This was all his idea. We just wanted to open the coffee shop," Kugelmugel explained, pointing at Molossia. Molossia looked unusually bashful.
"Ahahah, yeah! Even if I see myself as my own nation, reminder, I thought you might like something that matches your whole Area 51 theme, and the micronations had the idea for a coffee shop."
"Dude, Jason, this is amazing!" His face lit up with excitement. "Thanks so much! Even if the giant floating air balloons aren't from the aliens, it means a lot that you put so much effort into it. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I was gonna, but I hadn't seen Lou in so long, and it's rare for him to get time off. I wanted today to be a date for us." He glared and scowled a little at the younger micronations to stop snickering at him, but with the sunglasses on only the latter got through.
"Gotcha! Well, it seems case closed on the whole alien hunt for now, so we can just grab some coffee to go, take Mattie and Gilbert with us, and fly back to leave you two on your date."
America ordered an espresso, Japan ordered a matcha latte, and America interpreted for Tony (since he was another being who spoke a "colorful" language and was somehow close to America) that he just wanted an everything bagel, because he didn't like human coffee. Molossia and Wy brewed up the fresh cups to go while Sealand got the bagel ready in a small brown, neatly folded bag. Afterwards, with more praise and thanks, Prussia began poking Canada to wake up, much to the other nation's annoyance. He was in the middle of a dream about riding in Tony's UFO to the top of a stack of pancakes and pouring home-made maple syrup from above. As they all thanked Molossia, Wy, Sealand, and Kugelmugel for their adventure and were about to leave, Japan, with his arm linked around America's, stopped walking and turned around, looking at Molossia for a quick moment.
"I forgot to mention, nice air balloons," Japan said with a quick wink and the hint of a smile on his otherwise deadpan expression, recognizing the choice of solar cells. Molossia accepted the compliment but didn't get what Japan was referencing before they all left.
"Hey, don't you three wanna go home with them and get some rest too? Lou and I are having a date today."
"Aw, but we just got here!" Sealand pleaded.
"He's right," Wy affirmed. "We can always come back later."
"Resting is art," Kugelmugel concluded.
The three of them hung up their aprons and hurried out of the coffee shop to flag down the other nations just as the UFO was about to take off. Luxembourg and Molossia were finally alone now, sitting facing each other at one of the tables. On top of the wood surface were two coffee cups, and wisps of steam from being freshly brewed steadily rose out of the mugs. Molossia took off his sunglasses and let his hair down again, and a peaceful silence enveloped the air around them.
"You're the best, Jason," Luxembourg said. Molossia put a hand back behind his neck and quietly chuckled. He felt like the luckiest guy in the world as he took a good look at the gentle gaze that rested in Luxembourg's eyes.
"I'm so happy you're here with me again, even if it's just for a little while."
"I'm glad to see you too. I really missed you." He placed a hand over Molossia's on the table, grasping it as if he were afraid to let go.
"Just don't fly off without me so soon."
"I won't," Luxembourg promised.