In the sky, we breathe as one.

The rushing shift of speed, the fiery exhale of the engine, the endless depths of a sky as huge, as voluminous as the ocean. Out here I am a falcon, a windhover; my wings are composite carbon and nanomorphic steel. My skin is sleek and hard, cool to the touch. I see, and the machine that is me responds. I move, I think, and the machine that is we responds. Twitches and shivers translate to ripples, tightenings in metal, all movement in eager, responsive chrome.

In the sky, we are one, sexless and strong, an indistinguishable fusion of man and machine.

In the sky, we breathe as one, and we taste the wind with our wings.

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