It was always a dangerous job. Test spinners were a unique breed and each possessed a 'devil may care' attitude but were at the same time pros in their job. They had the "stuff" and never spoke of it.....that was for others; the ones who had never known the rarified air of test spin. Col. Pete had been at it a long time and he knew that each mission and each test could be his last, but he believed in his ability and his experience.

He had taken this disc from track one and he knew it well. As he advanced up each track the dangers increased, but Pete knew his job. He'd ridden out the rough spots at 5 and the skipping at 13. Today he approached the unknown that came on with terrifying force at the 16 and above level. Pushing the envelope was his job.

As the disc spun through 17, Col. Pete caught a sight through the smoked canopy of the player that brought a quick rush of adrenalin racing through him. It was one of those outside things that one could never control, like a pigeon getting sucked up in a jet. He saw the banjo that was standing beside the player. He saw the cat walking past. In that nanosecond he saw the danger and began to react as quickly as he could to shut down.

The cat brushed up hard against the banjo pot and the 5-string began to topple. Accelerating rapidly as Pete watched in horror, the 5-string neck smashed down on the touch-sensitive lid and slid on towards the floor. The lid began to raise and Pete fought with the interlock controls to keep the disc in place and decelerate. The G-force was too great and the tabs failed. The momentum of the spin and the extra air from the open cover combined to lift the now uncontrollable CD and it launched itself out of the player and across the room striking the cover on the way out and setting up a wobbling flight that knocked Col. Pete around as he sat at the useless controls. Striking a kitchen cabinet, it hurtled on into a pot of boiling grits.

The wreck was recovered but was useless and the remains of Pete were never found.

Spaw