Behind closed eyes, Jynm listened to the growl. Round, round. Round and around. Polymer chains forged into perfect cylinders, balanced around ball bearings, attached to a shaft of Jono steel, eight in all. They growled. A feral plastic music struck from the rhythm of wood slats pushing back against gravity’s momentum, a Newtonian dance born into her dark leather world, or had she - she felt she today - been born into its singular dimension? No matter. Jynm made the turn, feeling rather seeing the opposing skaters. Mynd’l had been right about the antennae. Good idea.
Jymn crossed her arms, crouched, hipped right. Crash. One out of bounds. The move cost as the other crashed her left side, but Jymn had played chess, initiated the second of several moves she’d planned already. Left toe stop down, brake, swivel, and backwards around the surprised opponent. Two points. Call the jam.