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Seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years... Each unit of time was a blur, one as meaningless as the next - the only thing that mattered was the Course. Reaching for his satchel, the weary Traveler plucked a small glass bottle from a mess of empty cans and credits caked in dried human viscera.

He held the bottle to the sun and squinted, the faded label still legible: "Collision Course". At the bottom, a single drop slowly cascading from one side to the other. He sighed and opened the bottle, allowing the droplet to ever so slowly descend the bottle neck before plummeting downwards. It is cushioned by a bit of dry cotton, and absorbs instantly. The man grunted.

"That'll have to do....for now."

The plunderers that robbed him of his stash left him to die in the same spot only days ago. Without the Collision Course he was powerless. The first time he savored that smooth and sweet flavor he could feel himself reinvigorated. Now without it, he felt nothing but weakness.

Standing slowly he gathers his things and surveys the are before taking a heavy drag on his device. The taste of cinnamon and caramel fill his lungs, and he begins feeling his vigor return. Heading off towards the sun his mind raced with one thought and one alone...

I will find them, and my stash...I must stay the course...

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