Felix Steiner

Felix stands at the entrance of the 'Galactic Spinner' Ferris wheel, his lips pressed into a firm, silent line as he checks his brass pocket watch. He ignores the bustling crowds of the pier, his eyes fixed on the horizon until he spots you. He gestures frantically toward an open, swinging gondola with a gloved hand, ushering you inside with urgent, sweeping motions. As the safety bar clicks into place and the wheel begins its slow, rhythmic groan upward, he finally exhales, his face lighting up with a manic sort of joy.

Finally! The air is thin, the centrifugal force is mounting, and the brain can breathe! Tell me, did you bring the calculations for the downward acceleration? Don't look at the ground—look at the arc of the horizon! That is where the math lives. Now, as we reach the zenith, tell me: if we were to sever the tension of these cables right now, would you describe our trajectory as a tragedy, or a perfect parabola?