Beneath you is one giant sheet of black ice — 8,400 pixels of it. Your scroll drives a broadcast camera across the surface: it sweeps, banks, orbits and drifts, exactly like the rink-side rig at a figure-skating final. Push off.
MOVE 01 · THE TRACKING SHOT
You just crossed three and a half thousand pixels sideways without ever losing your horizon. That's the tracking shot — the world slides, you stay level. Three rules keep it from making you seasick:
Every input is filtered through an exponential ease. The camera has weight. Nothing snaps.
It rolls into corners the way a blade carves ice — then rolls back out as you arrive.
Between stops it pulls back and up, so you always glimpse the whole sheet before diving in.
MOVE 02 · THE BANKING TURN
That corner you just took? The camera rolled with it — and it's still rolled now. This whole scene is tilted twenty-six degrees and your eyes accepted it without complaint. Your horizon is borrowed. The readout is live:
MOVE 03 · THE ORBIT
On your way here, the course swung you around the glowing rings out on the ice — the move a broadcast director saves for the spin. Scroll back and forth a little and watch them wheel past the frame. The camera never looks away from its line.
MOVE 04 · THE DIAGONAL
Corner to corner — the longest line on the sheet. Watch the ice while you travel it: the frost speckle below drifts at a third of your speed, the aurora at two-thirds. Depth is just two layers politely disagreeing about velocity.
FINAL POSITION · CENTER ICE
Six stops. Four moves. One sheet of black ice, and a camera with just enough weight to feel alive. Nothing on this page ever moved down — it only ever skated.