There was a loud party at my apartment, and I had gone to my room for some peace and quiet. My friend Sarah followed me into the room to check on me, so I asked her to sit, and conversation ensued.
The topics of conversation are lost in memory, but I can still clearly visualize the change in the air as the discussion continued. The room was dark, lit only by the moon and stars outside my window. As Sarah spoke to me, her voice deepened in pitch and tone, as if a record had been slowed down briefly. She snapped back into the correct pitch, and the discussion continued.
A few minutes passed before it happened again. Shortly after the second occurance, the familiar halo formed around Sarah's head and body. It grew in thickness until it seemed she was immersed in jelly. Her movements became slower, and her voice again deepened. I could no longer understand what she was saying.
The solution to this dilemma was clear, so I immediately willed the jelly toward me, and allowed it to slowly enclose me in a gelatinous membrane. While the rest of the world moved at lightning speed, time, for me, had slowed immeasurably. I moved my hand, and although I could clearly feel all the familiar motor reactions, my hand merely crept before my field of vision, followed by its countless ghosts, moving at an equally patient pace.
I moved my hand again, this time making an effort to wave it in front of my face as quickly as my muscles would allow. I could feel the force of inertia . . . the tension in my arm . . . the air against my skin. Just to be sure, I asked Sarah if she had just seen my hand move quickly. She appeared confused, but gave the appropriate answer in her vastly deepened voice: "Yes . . . uhh . . . why?"
My only answer was a laugh. These mundane questions were for another time... when time itself flowed normally. I had just accomplished the impossible, and right now there was fun to be had. I had willed time to a near stop, and had no idea how long I could make it last.
With this realization, I bolted from my seat on the floor. My bedroom door was closed and approaching quickly, and I had not quite gotten my bearings on this new rate of time. I thought I might crash, but had enough time to analyze the situation, look at the door handle, reach toward it, and twist the knob just as my body reached the obsctruction. The door flew open to reveal a well-lit room filled with people drinking and smoking.
I thought for several moments about this crowd. When they turn, will they see what I see? Will they see me moving at blinding speeds, or at slow speeds... or at normal speed? Do I even like these people? After several moments of pondering these questions, the sound of the door crashing open reached their ears, and eyes began turning in my direction.
Before their eyes had time to focus, I was outside in the cold winter air, taking deep breaths into my lungs. I could feel the cold air as it entered my nostrils, made its way through my trachea, down into my lungs.
It occurred to me that running was a particularly amusing spectacle, as I glanced down at my feet and saw them moving as though I were swimming in molasses - although my basic understanding of physics confirmed that I was running at a normal pace.
This was my most amusing observation yet. No matter how fast I ran, I would still perceive my movement in extreme slow motion. So I ran . . . and I ran faster. I pushed myself harder than I ever had. The faster I ran, the more I pushed, until my feet were gliding over the asphalt like a gazelle, every step a massive leap forward. My feet began to blur, as did the ground, and still I pushed faster. The distance covered by every step was my only reference to my actual speed, and I realized I had probably never run so quickly. Yet I had never moved so slowly. My world was gelatinous and slow, yet I could use the physics around me to determine my speed relative to the speed of normal experience.
As my feet crossed from asphalt into grass, I lifted my eyes from my slow moving feet to survey the landscape ahead. As my eyes lifted, I saw an obstruction in my path. It was a set of monkey bars in the playground for the children of my apartment complex. The children were shorter than me, so the wooden board holding the bars in place was roughly forehead height.
I had plenty of time to analyze the situation. Inertia had not gone away with my slowing of perceptions. I realized that there simply was not enough time to make appropriate adjustments adjustments in order to prevent impact with my skull, so I watched in wonder as the board very slowly approached me in my final step, before being awoken by a horrified Sarah and a laughing roommate. I lifted my head to scan my surroundings and make sense of what had happened, and found myself lying in grass. I touched my head, and my hand came away bloody.
I asked what had happened, and my roommate David explained that everyone was partying, and I had suddenly darted from my room and out the front door so quickly that the only person who had time to see me was him . . . and only because he had been looking at my door at that moment pondering when I would come out to join the party.
I asked how long I had been out, and noticed Sarah's eyes filling with tears. She told me five minutes had passed and that I had just layed there limp while they pushed and yelled at me. They were about to call an ambulance when I finally opened my eyes.
"What the hell were you doing? I've never seen anybody run that fast."
I replied, "But I've never moved so slowly! Watch!" I had realized that time was still under my control. I wanted to demonstrate my new powers, but in the haze of my head trauma, it didn't occur to me that they wouldn't see it.
I took only one step before my head crashed into the very same spot that had knocked me out the first time.
This time they had me awake in only a matter of seconds. They helped me inside, and with a head soaked in fresh blood, I finally joined the party.