Orange flames reflected off shiny chrome as the motorcycle riding mascot gunned up a ramp lined with pyrotechnic fountains of whistling sparks. While the daredevil dynamo leaped in seeming defiance of gravity through a ring of fire like a person possessed, Yusuf flashbacked that once he and his best friend from work Angaar were aerospace engineers designing next-generation launch vehicles until their project was scrapped and the disposable cogs were laid off.

"Being good at math is a characteristic of high-functioning sociopaths," Mileva reflected.

Always eager for exhilarating exploits defined by speed, excitement, and an edge of extreme danger -- like space camp, the two recovering adventure enthusiast rocket scientists finished with reinventing the wheel and just looking for a good ride boxed up their spider plants, got some cake in the break room, oversized signed cards, hit the bricks and took polished resumes to a career day pop up in Conference Room B at the library to apply for jobs where they could be outdoors, meet people, and travel around the country. Both tried barber college for a bit, were recruited to be Elvis impressionist artists for a time, then Yusuf got hired at a carnival guessing people's weight, gravitating his position to ride maintenance assistant. Angaar was accepted as a waterboy with a pro football team and climbed the ladder to figurehead mascot, but then a terrible accident occurred. As the adrenaline junkie performed a mesmerizing display of acrobatics on the sidelines with cheerleaders the ball got stuck in his forks and players dog piled on him. Angaar lived, but the tremendous weight disrupted his brain waves. He believed he heard personal messages in the White album, and suddenly it was clear to him that he and his ride-or-die metallic alter ego were one in the same.