The air is humid. I run and the wind screams passed my ears like a whistle full of steam. There is no direction but forward, like I’m shot from the belly of a plane, face-first and fearless. There is no turning back, no resistance to the inevitable. My legs begin to feel fluid, elastic. I fold into my torso, triggering the wheels in my kneecaps, elbows and wrists. Bending lower my kneewheels hit first, followed by my banded and wheeled hands. The elbows catch the ground simply as a navigational aid, bouncing on and off as needed. The ground flow is slightly uneven and the momentum of my fall leaves me with the need to continue rolling over onto my back. With a simple twist of my shoulders, I tilt and the sensors in my body armor eject wheels out from my shoulder blades, moving my kneewheels down to the heels and projecting a ferrofluid bearing helmet over my scalp. I always feel like closing my eyes for a second or two when I enter this position at such velocity. It’s a long time pleasure that I grant myself every chance I get. Just feeling the motion of the road under my body, I almost drift asleep. But the momentum continues. As the road approaches a right hand turn, I rotate and shoot my left hand out at the ground, gripping tight, pushing off, my legs go over head and for an instant I’m gliding with so much speed, upside down, watching the pedestrians in there civil suits, scornfully bemoaning my invasion in their walk space.
“Watch it there Insect!” One shouts.