Apparently a Mr Kadesh had worked out that the Earth rotates at a rate of around 1,040 miles per hour. For Gordon Tumpter, sometimes, he actually felt that speed. It tore around his brain like a child full of Haribo. People became a blur: even the stationary ones.
He tottered around his house, trying to stop the magnolia walls jumping out to knock him to the floor. Just as he thought he had reached his destination, the axis would alter and return him to his previous game of pinball.
It used to knock him sick.
There were times when the speed must surely have doubled. On those days it would erode his spirit, leaving him a confused and dizzy dot; a misshapen molecule of the man he used to be.
Then it was that there came to pass a voice in the distant. It wasn’t calling in gravelly tones from burning bushes. It wasn’t spouting commandments from atop dusty mountains. It was lending a hand from behind desks and in open plan rooms, where the seats faced each other and understanding was written in warm eyes.
Slowly, slowly, the planet’s revolution stayed the same.
What changed was his ability to see through the out of focus lens that surrounded his eyes.
Let the world spin, became his mantra.
Until the day he fell off, he would do just that: sit and let it spin.