(The morning after the first successful Starways-DuPont-Boeing human skipdrive trial.)
It’s the same dusky hills. The same lazy rain. The same familiar hint of brine on the wind and the taste of waves filtered through morning coffee. She’d skipped out to the stars and back, and nothing changed.
It felt unreal, impossible, that something so momentous could leave no trace. Reality had bent last night and the world was none the wiser. She sipped her coffee, staring out across the waves. Looking for something; some echo of her skip between point A and B, and the vast bit of nothing she’d skimmed through in-between.
Two tests later, she found it.
nmdrkangl says: 
