The sky flows past her faster and faster; gripping the metal bar tightly, she turns and spins as she descends, feeling the last air rushing through past her. A great orange rock, split in the centre at a rough angle, floats past her as she flies. Tilting her glider, she turns toward it, and spends some of her height exploring the massive earthen thing. She rushes by close enough to touch it, almost stretching out her hand before deciding against it at the very last moment. She angles down, and the world becomes a blur as she hurtles rapidly down.
Past the stone, she descends to where a river twists and turns like a python, flowing erratically as though seeking a bed to lie upon. She follows the river’s direction, jerking this way and that to avoid being hit by the flailing flow of water until she reaches its conclusion: a huge lake, suspended and drifting lazily downward, as all things do. She pulls up hard, straining against gravity to keep herself at her current height and gliding around the water, watching as it pulses and drips, tiny droplets of water falling like rain from its base.
As always, gravity eventually overpowers her, and she allows the metal bar in her hands to control her heading as she falls away from the lake, falling once again as the wind takes her in its grasp and pulls her to another scene. In the distance she spies a flat rock; yellow and black chevrons painted into the surface as if calling to her to land. She considers it, angling her glider toward it at a gentle angle; but as she approaches closer she sees the remnants of some old buildings and furniture littering the entire surface. At the last moment, she pulls up; she is still going too fast, and with so much debris on the rock, she can’t be sure of a safe landing.
Slowly she falls past the stone, and watches as new things come into view, all descending slower than herself. A massive steel bunker, an abandoned street, arching upwards as if inviting her to fly under it, an upturned boat, fractured across its base and wrecked against the air. She glides past all this wreckage, drifting ever downward. She learned long ago that, no matter how hard she strained and pulled and screamed, she could not prevent her descent; no matter how slowly, all things are drifting down; and at least with her glider, she can control when and where she goes.
One day there will be a floor; some great heap where all things are collected as ruined rubble. She’s seen no hint of it yet, though; and for the moment, she is content to explore the drifting space, falling with the rest of the world.