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Not content at being out of control, you reach out an arm
to attempt to steady or stop your descent. Yet, some gentle
force is preventing your hand from getting close to the
sides of the tunnel. This would explain why you have not
crashed head-first into the walls of the tunnel by now.
No amount of flailing or fighting seems to be able to stop
what ever fate has in its rocky, dirty mind. After thirty
seconds of yelling and fighting, you resign yourself to
wait for the end. Once, a brief
flicker of color and light zips by you, testifying to the
shear speed of the transport.
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