He hated emerging from a Fold; the process always left him feeling sick. The journey itself, if distorting the fabric of space using quantum singularities to wrap two distant points together like the cuff and collar of a well-ironed shirt could be called a journey, was quiet, smooth and short. It was the emergence from dimension crushing subterfuge that tricked the body into believing it had been thrust into the middle of a cyclone.
This is a companion discussion topic for the original entry at https://www.ageofascent.com/2014/03/11/backstory-late/