Difficult is an understatement. Arduous was the soup of Eights and Fourteens. Much as expected, a sheet of friendly Fifties resides on the other side. Persistence pays, and the result is that I am back on top once again.
The big bumps are clear, and I can slide along the straight sections freely, but I have to work to hold on. Even that is no help. The best I can do is to keep in the middle of the group, because we're off to the races again. Did I mention that I loathe plasmas?
"Yes, you did, and I heard that," rang Bob.
"Hey, I asked everyone, you are nowhere to be seen!" I replied in amazement.
"Figured. No time to talk. Stay on Nineteen and ride the Elevens."
"But.."
"Elevens."
As Bob faded into the noise, I realized that I was heading for a very odd but friendly cloud of electrons. This was no Eleven. Larger this was, by far.
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