Zero Friction

A clear cube of ice sat melting in a shallow saucer on the kitchen counter. No mechanical switches; pure liquid-solid transition. I dropped onto the dark granite, talons clacking sharply against the stone. I drove the blunt tip of my beak straight into its frosty flank. Shrrk! The cube broke loose instantly, hydroplaning across a razor-thin film of water with near-zero resistance. It careened toward the perimeter edge. I flared my wingblades, intercepted its trajectory with my left claw, and banked it ninety degrees along the rim. Back and forth, flicking the slick projectile across the stone runway, testing friction until it dissolved into a flat pool.