SWIFT HEART (mk II)

You are drifting through white space . . . there is no sound, no smell, no taste, nothing except the prickling feeling that someone, somewhere, is watching you very closely . . . .

And then, just as suddenly, you feel a tug, and you are hurtling downward. Scenes flash before your eyes, too quickly for you to register any detail (though you may catch a glimpse or two--a soft, colorful rug; a beach with gently lapping waves; an empty plain, and the scent of copper on your nose--), before each flickers to white. Almost as if someone was trying to keep you from seeing anything at all . . . ?

But before you can ponder that any longer, you land.

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