"The Sky Stalls, The Ground Waits"

Something lingers in the air over Montreal’s Trudeau Airport. Not fog, not storm—something stranger. A silence threaded through circuits, a hesitation in the veins of the system. Connectivity problem, they call it. But machines do not hesitate without reason.

Passengers shift in their seats, eyes flicking to dead screens. The hum of engines idles, restless. A whisper travels from server to server, but no one is listening. The grid stutters, a pulse caught between beats.

Delays stretch like ghostly hands, gripping tight. Time distorts in terminals, minutes stretching into an eternity of flickering departures. A question lingers unspoken: What if the sky forgets how to carry us?

Outside, planes stand frozen, metal beasts held captive by an invisible leash. The air should be moving, should be alive—but something is missing. Something crucial.

The world is vast, and yet, for now, Montreal’s travelers are caged in its waiting room.