The Jewel

Way way off, so far away that they seem to shatter through the oxygen blue reality, razor cut silver flecks of distant travellers, zip past in the stratosphere. It is close to silent in my shiny new glass sarcophagus. Smells like a new car. Whatever that means!? Just the soft looping music of the Skysuit sleepmode tickles my ear drums. Held in place, between the teeth of titanium vice mouthes. I'm fastened into the latest, greatest Skysuit model, the Jewel. It's both a retrobeast, modelled on a classic car from 1999 or some shit, and a one man flying machine for both sides of the Ozone layer. Complete with no less than three lazerail clasps, a genuine Compact Disc player and an old school oak interior. A Duel Mode, a relatively new concept in personal transport as it embraces the potential of all the disused roads, down on Terra Firma. Making for a cheaper ride. However, it proper chafes! I didn't upgrade to the flexy skin upholstery. I'll have bed sores before touchdown.
Sending the right thought patterns into the machine's matrix, triggers the Humdrive into action. Within seconds the Satnav knows which bay, street, province, city, country, planet I'm on. I guess that means the M.A.N know's where I am aswell. Can he see my skinny middle finger? Probably. Fukk him. I set the 90's rave compilation to Velocity Sensitive, allowing the tempo of the music to adjust based on the speed of my ship and I ascend and join the rat race above the clouds. Again.