Karel Chapek
	THE MAN WHO COULD FLY
	Mr. Tomsik was walking along the road below the Visehrad
Hospital; this was his health walk, as Mr. Tomsik cared a lot
about his health and as a rule he was a dedicated sportsman and
great soccer fan. He walked easily and quickly in the spring
dusk, meeting pairs of lovers here and there, or residents of the
Strashnitze area "I should buy myself a pace-counter", he
thought, "so I will know how many steps I take a day". Suddenly
he remembered that for the third night in a row he had the same
dream: he is walking along the street, there is a woman with a
pram in front of him; he kicks the ground quite lightly with his
left foot and in this very moment he sweeps up about three meters
high, flies over the woman with the pram and makes a soft
landing. This doesn't seem at all strange to him in his dream, he
takes it rather as something quite natural and extremely
pleasant; it only seemed a little bit funny that nobody so far
had thought of trying it. Why, it was so easy: you just have to
swing your legs as if you are riding a bicycle, and there goes
Mr. Tomsik again, up to the skies, flying at the height of the
third floor and landing softly. It is enough to kick yourself
away from the ground... and there he flies again without any
effort at all, as if making giant steps; it isn't necessary even
to step on the ground, he just sways his feet like that and keeps
on flying. Mr. Tomsik starts laughing loudly in his dream; how
come no one had ever thought of it before. You just kick yourself
lightly away from the ground and you are already flying. And it
is much more natural than walking, decides Mr. Tomsik in his
dream; tomorrow, when I wake up, I have simply got to try it. 
	"I have had this dream on three successive nights", thought
Mr. Tomsik. "A pleasant dream - a man feels so relieved after
such a dream... Oh , how pleasant it would be if I could fly so
easily, you just kick yourself off from the ground and ..." Mr.
Tomsik looked around. There was nobody behind him. Mr. Tomsik
began to run like and as a joke made a leap as if jumping over a
puddle. In this very instant he swept up to a height of about
three meters and flew over the ground in a slopping arc. That was
no surprise for him at all, everything happened so naturally; he
was only seized by a sweet thrill, as if riding on a big wheel.
Mr. Tomsik almost broke into joyful shouts like a boy; and after
a thirty meter flight he began coming down and saw that the earth
below was covered with mud - that made him kick with his feet
just as he had done in his dream, and he really flew upwards only
to land later on , quite softly, some fifteen meters further on,
behind the back of a man who was walking melancholically toward
Strashnitze. The man looked around in bewilderment - he obviously
didn't like the fact that someone had popped up behind his back
without him hearing his steps. Mr. Tomsik passed him as naturally
as he could; he was almost afraid of taking another, more
energetic stride, that would take him up from the earth and make
him fly again.
	"Let me try that again." Said Mr. Tomsik to himself and
turned back along the same road; but there constantly, and as if
deliberately, he met either lovers or railwaymen. He therefore
turned down towards a deserted site where the city rubbish had
been dumped for years; it was already dark, but Mr. Tomsik was
worried that he might loose this ability of his tomorrow. This
time his leap was not so vigorous and that's why his flight was
quite short, about a meter high, and his landing was not so
smooth. He tried it again, helping himself with his hands, as if
swimming, and this time he flew more than eighteen meters in a
respectably high semicircle and landed as softly as a dragonfly.
He was about to do it for a third time when he was bathed in
light and heard a harsh voice say:
	"What are you doing here?"
	A police patrol.
	Mr. Tomsik was terribly frightened and he began to explain,
stammering, that he was doing some training.
	"I'll give you training!" The policeman shouted at him.
"Can't you do your training elsewhere?"
	Well, Mr. Tomsik couldn't understand why he could do his
training somewhere else and not here; but as he was a law-abiding
person, he said good night to the policeman and hurriedly
disappeared, seized by a fear that all of a sudden he might fly
again which would certainly seem suspicious to the cop. Somewhere
near the State Health Institute he jumped in the air again,
easily got over the wire fence and, helping himself with his
hands, he flew over the hospital garden and landed on the
opposite side of the boulevard right in front of a housemaid who
was carrying a pitcher of beer in her hands. The housemaid
screamed and took to her heels. Mr. Tomsik thought that this
flight must have been at least two hundred meters long, and that
as a beginning it wasn't bad at all.
	For the next several days he tried flying constantly,
naturally solely by night, and only in secluded places, mostly in
the area of the Jewish graveyard behind Olshany. He tested
various types of flying; for example, a take off with a dash and
with a vertical bounce from a spot; with no particular effort,
waving only his hands he reached a height of a hundred meters,
but he didn't dare to rise higher. He tried also different types
of landing, such as the smooth touchdown, or the slow-motion
vertical falling which depended mainly on hand work; he practiced
also controlling the speed and changing direction, flying against
the wind, flying with a cargo, rising and descending the way he
wanted to, and other similar tricks. It was all so easy; Mr.
Tomsik found it more and more difficult to understand how people
had not thought of it already; probably no one had tried it
before him; simply to jump up and fly. Once he managed to keep
himself in the air for as many as seventeen minutes, but he got
stuck in some telephone wires and hurriedly landed. One night he
tried to fly above the Russian Boulevard; he was flying at a
height of about four meters when he noticed two policemen below
him; he made a sharp turn toward the villas' gardens and heard
the piercing sound of the policemen's whistles. After a while he
returned to the same place, this time on foot, where he saw six
policemen searching every corner of the garden with their
torches; saying they were looking for some criminal who they had
seen climbing over the fence a while ago.
	Only then did Mr. Tomsik realize what incredible
opportunities his flying ability opened up, but nothing special
occurred to him. One night he was teased by an open window on the
third floor in Irzhi from Lobkovitze Square; jumping lightly, Mr.
Tomsik swept up and landed on the sill, not knowing what to do
next. A loud snore was coming from inside; he got into the room
but as he didn't intend to steal anything, he just stood in the
middle of the room with that certain feeling of awkwardness and
embarrassment that we all have when we are in somebody else's
home. Mr. Tomsik sighed and started back to the window, but in
order to leave some sign as proof of his athletic achievement he
took out a piece of paper from his pocket and wrote down with a
pencil: "I was here! Avenger X." He left the note on the bedside
table of the sleeping man and silently took off from the third
floor. Only when he got home did he find out that the paper he
had left was actually an envelope with his address, but he
couldn't find the courage to go back and pick it up. For the
following days he was struck with fear that the police would ask
for him, but fortunately nothing happened. 
	*    *    *
	Some time later Mr. Tomsik felt that he could no longer hide
his ability to fly and enjoy it only as his secret and lonely
amusement; but he didn't know how he could make his discovery
well known to the public. And it was all so simple: it was
sufficient to kick yourself off from the ground, to help yourself
with your hands a little and there you would be, flying like a
bird. Who knows, this might be the beginning of a new sports
event; or, let's say, this might ease the traffic once people are
able to commute by air. And there won't be any need of elevators.
In general, it maybe very important; well, Mr. Tomsik was not
aware exactly what importance it could have, but it would become
apparent by itself. 
	Mr. Tomsik had a neighbor named Voita - a fat young man who
did some kind of work for the newspaper. Oh, yes, he was an
editor in the sports section, or something like that; one day Mr.
Tomsik stopped by his neighbor and in the course of conversation
he mentioned that he could show him something very interesting.
All was said, of course, with an  air of incredible mystery, so
Mr. Voita said to himself: "Come on now, you are pulling my leg!"
or something like that; anyhow, he went one day with Mr. Tomsik
to the Jewish graveyard.
	"Look here, Mr. Editor!" Said Mr. Tomsik, kicked himself off
from the ground and rose to a height of about five meters. From
there on he began demonstrating various tricks: descending to the
earth, taking off again with waving hands, he even hung for a
good eight minutes without moving in the air. Mr. Voita's face
took on a very serious expression as he began to search for an
explanation. Mr. Tomsik started explaining patiently:
	"Here, just like that, you just kick yourself off from the
ground and you are already flying; no, there is no spiritism
here; no, you don't need any exceptional powers - neither of the
will, nor of the muscles, you just have to jump up and that's
it."
	"Please, try it yourself, Mr. Editor." He kept insisting,
but Mr. Voita just shook his head negatively. There must be some
special trick in it all; he, however, would find it out. For the
time being though, Mr. Tomsik should not reveal it.
	The next time, Mr. Voita asked Mr. Tomsik to go flying with
five kilo dumb-bells in his hands and the result was poorer; he
managed to go up  to a height of three meters only, but Mr. Voita
remained satisfied. Following the third tests, Mr. Voita said:
	"Look here, Mr. Tomsik; I wouldn't like to scare you, but
what you are doing here is a very serious thing. Such flying
under your own power may have great importance, for the national
defense, for example.You do understand, don't you? We will have
to engage in that professionally. You know what, Mr. Tomsik, you
should make a demonstration in front of experts. I will take care
of it."
	*    *    *
	So, one day Mr. Tomsik stood in his shorts before a group of
four gentlemen in the yard of the Institute for Physical Culture
and Sports. He was terribly nervous because of his nakedness, he
was shivering with anxiety and cold, but Mr. Voita was stubborn:
if he wasn't in sports gear, it wouldn't be possible to
demonstrate how everything was done. One of the gentlemen, a
stocky and bald-headed person, was even a  professor of physical
training; his entire appearance showed mistrust - it was simply
written on his forehead that from a scientific point of view he
considered it all pure nonsense.
	He kept looking nervously at his watch and grunting.
	"Well, Mr. Tomsik." Mr. Voita said excitedly. "Show us first
how it goes with a dashing start."
	Mr. Tomsik ran a few steps timidly.
	"Wait!" The expert stopped him. "This is no start at all.
You should transfer your body weight to the left foot,
understand? Come on, now, repeat it!"
	Mr. Tomsik went back and tried to transfer his body weight
to his left foot.
	"And the hands? You don't know where to put your hands,
mister." The expert began to blame him. "You have to keep your
hands in a position that will ease the chest. The first time,
before the start, you were keeping your breath. You shouldn't do
it like that. You have to breathe deeply and easily. Come on, one
more time!"
	Mr. Tomsik was quite confused; now he really didn't know
where to put his hands and how to breathe: he stepped uneasily
from one foot to another thinking where his body weight might be.
	"Ready...start!" Shouted out Mr. Voita.
	Mr. Tomsik staggered unsteadily and dashed; he was just
about to take off, when the expert said:
	"Wrong! Stop it!"
	Mr. Tomsik wanted to stop, but he didn't succeed - he kicked
sluggishly off with his left foot and rose over the ground about
a meter high and as he didn't wish to hurt the professor, he
landed and remained motionless in his place.
	"Really bad!" The expert began shouting. "You have to land
in a squatting position! On toes and springing in a squatting
position! And the hands must be stretched ahead, is that clear?
The hands are what is killing the inertia, mister - it is quite a
natural movement.
	"Wait." He said. "I will show you how to jump. Watch
carefully how I do it." He took off his coat and got into a
starting position. "Pay attention, mister: the weight is entirely
on the left foot; the foot is bent while the body is directed
ahead; the elbows are drawn backwards in order to ease the chest.
Come on now, do the same!"
	Mr. Tomsik obeyed dutifully - he had never before felt so
uncomfortably bent in two.
	"You should practice it." Added the expert. "And now watch!
I am putting my left foot ahead..."
	The expert moved forwards, ran six steps, kicked off from
the ground, leaped up making a perfect circle with his hands and
landed graciously in a squatting position with hands stretched
ahead.
	"That's the way to do it." He said and hitched up his
trousers.
	"Repeat exactly what you saw."
	Mr. Tomsik looked sadly at Mr. Voita as if to say: "Do I
have to?".
	"Come on, one more time." Said Mr. Voita and Mr. Tomsik
squatted as he was told.
	"Ready... Go!"
	Mr. Tomsik made a total mess with his feet; "I went with the
left foot, but this isn't important any more." He thought
embarrassed while running, "if I could only land in a squatting
position like he says, with hands stretched ahead." He almost
forgot to leap; he kicked off quickly from the ground... "The
main thing is to make the squatting position." Passed through his
mind. He rose to the height of not more than half a meter, and
after a meter and a half he was already on the ground - in a
squatting position and with hands stretched ahead.
	"What is going on, Mr. Tomsik?" Shouted Mr. Voita. "You
didn't fly at all! One more time, I beg you!"
	Mr. Tomsik started to run for a second time. He jumped only
one meter and forty centimeters, but then he landed in a
squatting position and with hands stretched ahead. He was all
sweaty and his heart was in his throat. "Oh, God, why don't they
leave me alone," he thought, feeling worked to death.
	He tried to leap two more times, and then they were forced
to give up.
	*    *    *
	From this day on, Mr. Tomsik could fly no more.