A Man With No Name
Even though it had been more than fifty years since he had boarded a plane for the first time, he still felt a little uneasy about the whole damned thing. He knew that, even in a worst case scenario, a plane-crash wasn't likely to kill him, but he had spent several centuries with his feet firmly on the ground, and he liked it that way.
But flying wasn't the only strange feeling he had been forced to become familiar with. There was another one, deeper, more frightening.
He was a nameless passenger in a plane full of nameless people, and that did give him a small measure of comfort. The world had grown so impersonal amidst the proliferation of identity documents that it had made it easier to remain anonymous. But he knew that the other passengers didn't share his feelings. They could never understand. They were the same person when they boarded as when they descended the plane, they didn't have to wonder when did they cease to be one person to become someone else... and who would that someone else be.
Sometimes it was a pleasant illusion, leaving himself behind, starting anew, being granted a clean slate whenever he wanted it. Sometimes the pain and memories took a couple of days to catch up with him, but they always seemed so much heavier when they did.
He sighed as the captain announced that they would be landing shortly, he closed his eyes and randomly selected a passport, letting fate decide who he would become.