Psuedo-time Bits & parts
Repeat of original?
Ian fired. The projectile moved slowly in pseudo-time. He released the gun and stepped around it as it hung frozen in real-time. Exerting every fiber of his body, he began to fight the enertia holding him back. He began to fall forward and swing his arm. Movements that eventually translated into running with the heavy non-moving air becoming a roaring wind in his masked face. His motion was a blur in real-time, a flicker in the corner of the eye. He pushed harder, pumping leaden legs to velocities exceeding sound.
Ahead of him the projectile appeared to slow, then move backwards toward him. He could see the condensing stream of air behind the bullet. Ian forced his hand forward and out; to open and then close in a tight fist around the bullet. His own gloved hand formed an even larger stream of condensation behind it. his body would cause a small sonic boom in the fraction of a second that would pass.
Now he had to dump his momentum and fast. He would rapidly run out of room at this speed. Even as his hand firmly grasped the bullet, Ian was striving to reduce his speed with all his might. Only the special clothing and face-mask would keep the heat of air friction from bursting his body into flames when he was moving at top speed. That heat was pressing against him through the suit now. He was slowing down, braking forcefully but carefully to avoid a slip and a fall. A fall now with his massive momentum could easily be fatal.
Ahead his target stood, gripped in the frozen lock of real-time; a smile on her pretty statue still face. Her eyes were half shut in a real-time blink making her look sleepy. If Ian had the time to spare, he could have watched the slow movement of her eyelids complete the motion over several minutes of pseudo-time. He slowed more and was buffeted by his own shock wave as it passed him. He slowed and finally stopped with his hand theatrically extended holding the bullet an inch from her chest.
He clicked into real-time. The familiar gut wrenching, dizzying feeing swept him as his perceptions slowed. In his eyesight everything started moving slowly at first, then rapidly sped up to real-time speeds. Ian was reminded of a stopped frame of film that has started back into motion. His sonic boom was echoing in the huge auditorium and smoke (from the pyrotechnics he had triggered by firing) billowed around him. As it dissipated a resounding roar of applause began. To the crowd watching his magic act, he'd just disappeared on one side of the stage as he shot and reappeared on the other holding an otherwise fatal bullet. A shattered glass lay on a stand in the middle of the stage testifying to the bullets progress. For a fraction of a second the eyes watching him had been decieved into seeing two of him. Ian bowed to the thunderous roar of the crowd.
He wondered how many of the crowd here for Carnival were stymied by his feats of magic. They surely suspected they were being tricked, but Ian was just as sure they'd never guess the true secret of his act. That he was a Clicker! And a runaway at that! His whole career as a magician was just the latest of many aliases for him. Although he hoped this one would last a lot longer than some of the previous ones. He'd only been at this for a few months thus far.
The crowds roar followed him and his assistant backstage after the act where Ian dryed himself with a towel. He was soaked from his last trick. In it, he disappeared from a cabinet to appear in a clear tank of water on stage. The audience always loved to see the water flash to steam as his body plunged into the cool tank and he clicked back into real-time. The resulting burst of bubbles and steam as he "appeared" before their very eyes was a real crowd-pleaser.
Ians muscles had the warm exerted feeling that came from such vigerous workouts. Moving in psuedotime, especially running, required considerable effort. Ian recalled a lecture an old professor at the Academy had conducted. Mass it seemed increased linearly in direct proportion to velocity in psuedotime. On the other hand, the time dialation was inversely proportional. This resulted in a steady increase of mass and a decrease in the passage of time for an object as it accelerated in psudotime. The faster Ian ran in psuedotime, the heavier he became and the slower he experienced time to flow. The psuedo-universe was definitely different from, although it was also directly superimposed on, this universe.
Brittany patted him on the shoulder. "Nice touch, Flash," she smiled. "Stopping like that as if you'd only just made it."
Ian,alias Flash, regarded his "target". She was a stunning brunette, very shapely and clad in one of those typical scanty sparkley outfits so common at circuses. He'd been working with her for seven or eight months now and was starting to develope what he hoped would be a very interesting relationship.
"So, you're finally starting to appreciate my true ability as a great dramatic actor, he responded mockingly.
"oh please!" she winced as if in pain. "I've got to go change. See you later for a drink?" she cocked one eyebrow suggestively.
"You know that I can refuse you nothing. I'd love it."
Ian stepped up to the line. Nervously he glanced at the digital clock set in the wall. All its minutes,seconds and fractions of seconds sat resolutely on zero. There was an absurdly long line of zeros stretched out on the fraction side of the seconds decimal place.
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