Perhaps he would
make an entrance at the exact spot where he had left. Or just outside
the theater. Or perhaps on the roof. Too dramatic? He settled for
just outside the theater's back door, in Seltsam Way.
He closed his eyes in order to concentrate on the math, felt that
peculiar sensation of vertigo, and felt a cool wind blow on his face.
He opened his eyes to find himself hovering a thousand feet above
Tranquil. His heart stopped beating as he began to fall, but began
again, much to his relief as well as anguish.
He nearly let go of the clipboard, but managed to clutch it to his
chest as the pages, his clothes, and the Earth, began to flutter
violently around him. The fell past some kind of balloon, reached out
to catch hold of it, but it was too late. Now, the only thing that
could save him were those few pages whose contents he had just
forgotten, thanks to a somewhat reduced short-term memory. The only
numbers he could recall (as he struggled to find and not lose his
place) was his rate of descent: thirty-two feet per second per second.
Something inside him wondered how long it would take to reach the end
of his fall, and something else answered that this could not be known
without ascertaining one's starting altitude.
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