THE QUIET FIX

There was a faint rattle. Barely there. Near the generator, under my aft floor. Not enough to complain about—but enough to keep me listening.

Turns out, a bolt had gone missing. One mount. One tiny piece of the puzzle. But the crew found it. Aligned me. Tightened me. Fixed me.

No fanfare, no announcements. Just quiet hands doing good work. That bolt may be small, but the silence it left behind? Big.

It’s work like this that lets me carry guests forward without worry. I don’t just float—I trust the way I’ve been put back together