Up in the sky, high above Whimsy, is a huge captured asteroid. We call it the Sub-Orbital Asteroid Retreat.
I mean, it strayed into our space, so we had a right to it, yes? Under digital salvage law.
We sawed on it a bit so it looks rather like the lower half of a 100-meter wide bagel-- if bagels were made of black rock.
On the bagel there's a docking tower for balloons, blimps, dirigibles, and assorted lighter-than-air craft.
A handy robot lift whisks you to the top. That's not to say he doesn't complain a bit, but whisk he does.
At the top, walkways lead to a railway which climbs high into the sky, ending at a a giant blimp that houses an assortment of high-class games-- if you think bowling is high class, that is.
The little tram that rides the rails has been performing flawlessly for years now...
... but that doesn't mean it can't be made to malfunction-- does it? We weren't sure, so we set out to trash it.
The best way we could do that, we figured, would be to rez trams simultaneously at both ends of the track and force them to collide.
"Yield!"
"No, you yield!"
"Yield!"
"No, YOU yield!"
"Yield, dammit!"
"You yield. Last chance!"
"Uh-oh. I should have yielded."
"I TOLD you to yield!"
"I'm going over!"
"Serves you right."
Somehow, though, I got past her.
We ended our time with a peaceful ride back to the asteroid.
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