Pod 7219

The drop off the apex of a slingshot expressway is dizzying to even imagine. Normally, it's cleverly obscured by the construction of the windows. The cabin needs to widthstand the pressures of travelling through several hundred meters height in a matter of seconds, as well as accelerate several meters per second upon deployment and arrival. The mechanism is one that's relatively standard, and based in physics several centuries old, traceable directly to the titans of classical mechanics and field theory that were Newton and Maxwell. The window seats in the slingshot express are the most popular tickets. Despite being quite familiar with the construction of the windows - two openings in the layered hull, constructed with a stark offset that allows the view from straight ahead and upwards to enter the pod, while blocking the view downwards - may still try to catch a glimpse of the cities passing below the pod, as it zips along the invisible, intangible field vectors carefully calculated and simulated by computers in real-time, before launching the pod with about two meters of magnetic coils. The second layer of the hull is a highly ferromagnetic mesh, which allows for the railgun-like effect. It makes the acceleration almost instant, and shortens each flight to about a minute in length, as well it should, considering the number of slingshot expressway pods constantly zipping in criss-cross arcs across the cities. Initially, there was an issue with the pods spinning slightly, though that has been resolved with the third iteration that introduced a liquid layer in between the mesh and the layers to either side and an extra weight in the then elevated floor, to stabilize the passengers. The pod then comes to a stop in a vat of liquid, which decelerates the pod rapidly, and is drained quickly to be reused the next time around.

In particular, pod number 7219 on the Southbound line did not manage to land in its vat. When the hull isn't constructed properly, or punctured by, say, a screwdriver, it catches on the air and interferes with the trajectory. A spinning pod is terribly uncomfortable to be on. The layers crack under the inertial forces of the spin and compromise its other. The liquid escapes, leaving the frame to rattle against its neighboring layer. It moves faster than the neighboring layers, soon escaping the structure entirely and separating the floor from the rest of the hull, near the apex. At this point, the spin will have attained all three degrees of freedom, causing it to tear itself apart through inertia. Aerodynamics has made it impossible to predict the further motion of the system at this point. In chaos theory, there is a point at which the chaotic component of a system becomes leading, at which point not only will the exact path in configuration space be impossible to predict, but it's also impossible to regain control over the system without making it stop first. By the time the floor separates from the hull, each object formerly controlled by precision engineering will have become its own chaotic system. The maximum of eight passengers of the pod will be spinning in irregular pattern, exacerbated by the flailing of the limbs. If there was ever a proof of the fact that humans were not designed to fly, it's this panic reaction. Cats and Squirrels move in a way to maximize their drag and land upright when falling. It's a coordinated spin around their z-axis, keeping their focus stable. The instinctual human reaction will send them spinning end over end.

The passengers are indeed spinning. They understand this happens occasionally, and even as they spin, they take in the view of the city below, the pods shooting up over the clouds and arching back down like karp jumping above the water surface, the brief hint of faces in a mix of shock, awe and sympathy for what's to come. The correct thing to do here is to flail the arms and force the legs into running motions that don't worsen the trajectory. Doing this on purpose is a much more difficult affair than just letting panic take the wheel. The one hitch with panic is that it rarely comes when welcomed. Such as now. Many mimic the motions that would ordinarily keep a person above water - just about - sure to take in the view. A view they would have preferred through the windows but is content with seeing this way as well. An inhomogeneous collection of surfaces reaching into the sky, in stark difference to the uniform grey on the lowest streets. A blurry watercolour painting smudging the lives below into but a hint of their existence, just as the thick blanket of clouds hides the ascent and apex of the pods.

They drop into a vat of liquid. The same vat that might otherwise have caught the pod that is now raining down over the same inhomogeneous collection of surfaces caught in a snapshot in his mind. Adrenaline-fueled bliss is still pumping through their veins when they are escorted out, wet and shaking. Closer inspection will reveal a small puncture on the hull of the pod, where it must have collided with a pidgeon or a bird of similar size. As the pods aren't piloted, such collisions are bound to happen, although considered an oversight on parts of the air-control. Among the many recovered parts of pod 7219, was a loose screwdriver.