Terminal Velocity

The Laws of Physics and thus, "The World," have a way of speaking to you. Subtly conveying information to you while simultaneously suffocating you with hurricane-force winds. A door slides open three miles in the sky and when you step out, it only takes three seconds before you're going 60mph. Twelve seconds later, you're hurtling towards Earth at 120mph -- Terminal Velocity. The speed at which the drag created by your body and the acceleration brought on by gravity cancel each other out. You are neither accelerating nor decelerating. It's when you're going fastest that everything...just...stops.

You hit an invisible wall and, for a moment, achieve a perfect balance. Your body and gravity have come to an agreement -- a temporary Farwell to Arms in their ceaseless battle of push and pull -- only at acceleration's end is this possible. Physics -- the Law of the Universe -- is making a deal with your body. By its shape and position, it's rendered an age old force impotent. All you have to do was step forward and let go.

What else could you do if you simply let go and dropped? Let the laws of the universe take hold and pull you faster than you've ever gone before? When you push as hard as you can to accelerate forward, the world blurs around you, then suddenly everything hums softly and...just... stops. It all freezes and the quiet is like that which follows an ice storm. Once you've taken it all in and made your assessment, you can pull the cord and feel that launch upward as you slow and are given a window to the world below you. The crinkled paper mountains brushing up against the green and sun-worn browns of the farmland's crisp geometry. Even the vastness of Earth itself becomes comprehensible.

When you leap, The World will speak. All you have to do is step forward and, from the right height, you could make the universe bow to you.