The first thing Proxy discovered about the flight zone was that steering left no longer meant turning left.
The truck banked, enough that the front dipped and the lava zone rose back into view at a tilt it had no business occupying, and he attempted to fix it, and the fix sent the truck's front back up past level, and he attempted to fix it again again, and by the end of those three seconds he understood the principle of it and would not be discussing the previous three seconds with anyone.
He leveled the truck and looked at the zone properly for the first time.
It was wide. The prior zones had all been narrow problems, narrows between dunes, water current bands, volcanic rock with lava on both sides. This was open air in every direction, and the race field that had been compressed into a linear formation for every prior zone was now distributed across it like a map of intentions.
