All the rules and precautions are running through my head, and I'm trying to sort out the most important. I'm afraid of overload, forgetting it all. Even when my whole life depended on passing a test in vet school, I never felt the physical grip of fear like this, a layer of oil sloshing through my guts, the air squeezed out of my lungs, the feeling of a steel collar around my throat, no saliva in my mouth. I'm told to put my helmet on as I get on the place. The words seem to come from far away, somewhere in the real world that I've detached myself from. My normal sensations are dulled beneath the fear. We begin to ascend.