There once was a pilgrim who had always dreamed of flying.
Not on foot over hills, the way he usually travelled, but properly: above the clouds, with the world laid out beneath him like a map.
One evening, at the edge of a small airfield, he found a hangar with its great doors half open. Inside, something glowed.
A cockpit, lit from within.
Screens full of runways.
Switches, levers, a hundred tiny lights.
An A320, he thought. Or at least something that very much wants to be one. Surely here are the secrets of flight. The procedures, the checklists, the knowledge of pilots.
He stepped inside. The cockpit glowed. The screens showed a runway stretching into the distance.
The runway was not there. The hangar floor was concrete. The whole impressive machine stood on its legs and, with tremendous dignity, went nowhere.
Outside, the windsock hung limp. On the hangar roof, a small black box blinked blue, like an approach light for a plane that was never coming.
It was a training device. It trained. It did not fly. And today, it did not even train.
And slowly, the pilgrim understood.
A simulator teaches you to fly without going anywhere.
This website does the same.
Minus the teaching.
This is no flight school. No briefing room. No archive of checklists and procedures.
It is a hangar with a simulator in it, switched off for the night.
Nothing more.
So, Traveler —
No traffic.
No clearance.
No secrets on this frequency.
The flight is cancelled. It was never scheduled.
Return to stand, pilgrim. Go home.
And the hangar doors, at last, were closed.