DJ ICE TITS-002
76 minutes of original and unreleased DJ I.T. music, exhumed from his archives. Synthetic Squirts and Analog blurps, emanating from gaseous synth cloud. Recorded to DAT, cassette tape, and other obsolete mediums. It's Mystical.
The wind was blowing at 36 knots southwest, heavy enough to nudge his gauges but light enough to not hear it inside of the cockpit. His craft was small, essentially just an engine with wings; he had her strapped to his back and sat in contemplative silence deep inside a bomb bay at 50,000 feet above sea level. With thirty minutes to launch, he chewed his gum slowly, steadily.
Soon the bomb bay doors would open and his craft would be dumped out for the multitude of scientists down on the ground below him. Secretly siphoned tax dollars hard at work. This afternoon his experimental pulse jet engine would propel him across the pacific at 13,810.8 miles per hour (Mach 18), or scramble the airframe into Play-Doh and scatter his ions across the stratosphere.
Either way, he figured in between chomps of gum, he was headed towards one hell of an explosive party. He closed his eyes and waited, feeling the vibrations of the mother-craft steadily climbing him to play with the angels.
T-minus 30 and counting.