Elton John once sang, “And all this science, I don’t understand. It’s just my job five days a week.” That’s how it is when you’re a Crash Diver: you don’t need to understand blue holes or how they differ from wormholes and black holes or what a mobius mirror does—only that it must work, every time—because, at the end of the day, that isn’t your job. Your job is to be a guinea pig: to be shot into the vortex at near light speed and experience what effect blue hole-assisted mirror travel has on the human body and psyche. Your job is to penetrate to whatever depth they’ve set the mirror—and, if you’re lucky, to enter that mirror and get bounced back.
It hasn’t always been like this. Before there was Zebra Station—with its luxurious gravity centrifuge and its row of black and yellow delta div
