From my point of view, I was standing about ten yards from a surface moving at about nineteen hundred and fifty miles per hour. Telling myself this was an illusion didn’t help. And it didn’t matter how smooth that surface was; if I came into contact with it, it would be like leaning against a giant grinding wheel. Not to mention that I’d get kicked into a spin that would probably rip my limbs off. And my part in the expedition would be over before it even started.