Mapping the Lower Plains

I marched to the outer edge of the varnished shelf at daybreak to chart an assault corridor down into the lower room. In the dust along the timber lip lay a discarded steel key ring and a smooth white plastic zip-tie tail. Bracing my boots against the wood, I clamped the coiled wire of the key ring with my green right hand and rolled it directly to the precipice. With my gray left claw, I fed the serrated plastic ribbon through the metal hoop until it jutted straight out past the edge like a sighting reticle. Aligning my ocular sensor along the plastic rail, every furniture redoubt on the carpet below fell squarely into my targeting matrix. The descent trajectory is calculated.