[color=gold][center][h1][i][b] SPEED //// GREASER //// PUNK [/b][/i][/h1][/center][/color] The faces of fans. Almost like a blur of them like pixels in screen. The murmur of noise. It felt like a it was blurring, crowd noise picking up, the sound of an airhorn being used, one such thing that seemed to make Bonneville feel more like a riot, rather than a normal race. And cutting to a black background, revealing different people. Sitting. The camera peeling in on the pixels to reveal people. "Why?" A yellow and black t-shirt wearing Valkyrie fan, with a traditional Saxon helmet, with a nose-protecting element to it, and holographic lenses inbetween the eye sockets, the Germanic accent seeping through. "The whine. The noise. The sound. It's....just crazy." A jump cut. A Maori, her olive skin mixed with Tatau, and braided coral and blue hair. "The speed. It's nearly impossible." A black and white facepainted Carrera fan, with a stripe of rainbow down her neck going to their arms, and neck painted as if she was playing at being Bea. "The stories. The underdogs. The unexpected." The purple faced fan, with his two limbs both matching in colour, wrapped in Nordic Call's colours. "Tension. Fighting for anything we can get." A blonde fan, screaming as the shot cut, wearing her white-shirted Silver Apex polo, back to her neutral face. "The best of the best. Fighting over tenths." An orange and blue split, with ginger hair and beard, an MMR fan. "It's home turf. We're in Utah, baby." A massive grin forming, the sound of an AG ship roaring into life as the screen flipped, revealing a pink sunset, and a screaming MMR ship sending salt and water flying on a flooded part of the Salt Lake, the distant SLC with lasers visible even from here, and the massive "Construct" that made up the twisty section near the fanzone for all to see. [hr] [color=gold][center][h1][i][b]DELTĪ” HYPER[/b][/i][/h1][/center][/color] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Episode Seventeen: Mustang Alley[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] [hr] [center][h1][b]Friday 3rd November, 2094 21C Mustang Camp Bonneville Salt Flats 1925 Mountain Time (FAS) [/b][/h1][/center] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Festival of Speed[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] [img]https://res.cloudinary.com/simpleview/image/upload/v1718393909/clients/swat/sifan_liu_Ry6Imrao4hE_unsplash_f5a41659-952b-4646-b013-34c04279f995.jpg[/img] [b]Soundtrack: [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PyoQ0EBXzs] John Summit & Hayla - Shiver[/url] [/b] The chaos of Bonneville was a different breed. "Welcome to the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, Federated American States. We're here for Round 17 of the Formula AG championship, and we're at the home of Anti-Gravity, where it was in fact, developed in the late 2060s. Bonneville is a speed track, but the 'Complex' offers a handling challenge, right in front of the fans, as does the mountain to the north west of the circuit, flanked by two incredible opportunities for speed. This is a circuit stepped in history, and as the temperatures drop towards the end of the season in the Northern Hemisphere, we head to the flats for the fastest circuits of the year." Walking around, Aurora was in the thick of the festival as the drone followed, the crowd looked like they weren't from 2094, not even 2024, but rather, from 1964. It had a "greaser" vibe, and everything seemed almost themed. At Mustang Camp, so nicknamed due to a race organiser religiously turning up in a 2004 Ford Mustang every single year up until about 2091, it had eclipsed the horse and followed the automotive trend instead. "Bonneville has long since held strong in the hearts of anyone who loves speed, and here, the long-running Anti-Gravity Festival celebrates the history of going fast. Much like Burning Man, or Boomtown, the theme of the Formula AG-supporting festival brings together everyone who loves the pursuit of racing." Aurora seemed rather casual, even for her look, she was wearing UV-like ink on her skin and cutting around the festival, you could see that it was unhinged. It was like Mad Max had been hurled at Cyberpunk. Death Metal was blasting from a mechanised spider, which was picking up performers in the actual crowd, so as to add to the spectacle. Another stage had neurofunk blasting, hooked up into what looked like a giant lighthouse with lasers and beams that looked like they also were emitting people into the back of the tent behind it, making it seem like an ocean beyond just the salt they trod on. [img]https://burningman.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/EleanorPreger_OhmKar_ButchMcIntosh.webp[/img] This felt like, despite the deafening blows of health and safety, like it was performative art at its finest. "The Legacy of Speed" The festival tagline was dotted, and the artwork, the feeling, was all at its height. From food to vendors to people, to cars, to anything, anything here was legacy. Memory that wasn't a museum piece. But literally, like a cosplay, played out. When you entered into the festival, it felt like you were a living, breathing organism that felt like an extension of a crazy town in the middle of salt flats, combined with a speed festival. Everything from late 19th century museum pieces to mid 20th century muscle, even some early 21st century Fords and Corvettes had been kept, as well as plenty of exotica and rat-modded boxes that represented the best of anyone with a shed, budget and a dream. From old F1 cars to tubular designs, even AG craft that had been modded for pure, absolute, straight line speed. With a pulse engine and enough of a dream, you could smack the sound barrier at the far end of the strip in Bonneville, and the exclusion zone was the only reason anyone visiting would have eardrums that would work. It wasn't a car show, more like automotive exhibitionism, and the same could be said of the people, all of whom were absolutely showing off who they were, what they were, from augments that were inspired by Formula AG pilots new and old, to temporary tatttoos, eye prints, dyed and bleached hair, team merch, and so on. It was strange that a FIAR approved sport, one so close to being formal and at the big time, even allowed this. But the fact the theme was almost 1960s meant that all of it seemed even weirder, like neon strip lighting and retrofuturism seemed dominant, like someone had even stapled Fallout-vibes into this, it felt odd. At Silverstone, it still felt like basic bitch shit, but here, this felt somehow, authentic, and truly, weird. The answer? Bonneville was run differently. As the home of anti-gravity, with a pioneering flight almost 25 years prior on the same salt flats undertaken by a research conglomerate, a different promoter ran the event here and therefore, made it their own. While corporatism bleached in at the sides, trying to gentrify the festival, and to some extent, succeeding at kicking out The Interior and seedier elements, it felt like it was still at its core, a bit punk. = Moving through the festival on site, Aurora headed up into the Delta Hyper section, a black temporary polymer structure that had a rooftop area for the pilots, equipped with a bar but more importantly, chairs for interview. "But we're not just here for a festival. We're here for a race." There sat Bea, Nora, Paul, Bellatrix, Kais and Han, all groomed, all representing their teams, and their journey as rookies so far. They could join in the festival vibes, if they of course, fancied it- their team gear was likely to remain the same in ship but likely to have a little something different if marketing could capture the zeitgeist. "Hello, and welcome! Here in Bonneville, how have you found it so far?" She asked them all, knowing they all must have found the middle of a salt flat on the Nevada border to be different to the other places they'd been so far, and with Practice complete on the complex MAG-enabled track that then went up the mountain behind them off the salt flat before coming back down, they were all enjoying the sunset that was coming in the horizon. "So, with the season coming to an end. We thought to ourselves we'd let you do the talking to the audience, and here in Bonneville, we're in a place stepped in history within AG, and the wider land speed record community. So, what's your favourite part of the legacy of speed? I believe you each had a hand in a few short films and will show us what that relationship is?" [b]With it, each pilot had their own short, two and a half minute section to perhaps demonstrate a little of what their journey was. Their experience of speed. Why they were here. And what their relationship to it, narrated by the pilots themselves. A favourite car, place, time, experience, moment, anything. It was up to them. But all of it was the reason they were the pilot they were. It was an exposition, made to their memory, made from what they had done. Even just Formula AG this season, all of their ups and downs, the highlights. Their moment up to here. It was theirs, each film an independent, different slice, and they could cut it however they wanted.[/b] [hr] After the films played, a different set of interviews were taking place. "I suppose what is the legacy I'd leave? I'm honestly, still thinking about it a lot. I love AG, this stuff, it's incredible, such highs, and lows. But it feels like I've left a legacy of high performance, contributing to Valkyrie's position, and I think it's the right time. I had one last dance and I'm getting older. Time to move onto pastures new. And you never know. I haven't totally made my mind up." Dorian winked at the camera, with a grin. "So, I guess from that point of view, I'm still here to win things. I guess I would have never said that at the start of the year. But I believe I can. It's just a matter of pushing hard. And I think I can do that, even against the best, I have that to live up to." Jen smiled back to camera, Silver Apex having added a bit more chrome to their suits this weekend, as if that was anything to honour the theme here. "It's a shame the season didn't work as well, but hey, things happen. And the move to Valkyrie is exciting. It's a new challenge. While a lot of fans may not vibe with the Euros, all I'm saying is, hear them out, they've got an American principal and he knows his stuff. So I'll let the Wedgers figure it out." Max joked, knowing the unfortunate name that his fans had gotten, and the online shitshow that had prevailed. "It was a bumpy ride but yeah, 100% on Zygon. Lot of rumours going on, and I think a lot of people were talking out of their arse when they said I'd leave. I committed to Zygon because I thought they might go to the top, and we have a package that is paying dividends. No fast journey up, but I feel I've settled. So can't complain, just wanna get on with it." Cassie replied, a smile on her face, aware that Bea might not like that, but, PR demanded it. "It's hard to say. I mean, I could still be Champion, and I have to believe that anything could go wrong ahead of me. But Nora seems more likely. So I'll help her as much as I can, as much as I can help myself." Harrison casually smiled, grinning, hiding the acres of screaming pain of "another year missed" behind him. "She is interesting. I......think Bellatrix has been lucky. But she earns her luck." Astrid astutely pointed, knowing that her new team-mate was not one to throw any shade at, not after her performance in the sims versus Bjorn. "There's definitely a platform to build on. And while we didn't pick up the pace as much as I thought we would....well, next year is going to be an exciting one and you'll see plenty more from us at NOVA." Florence smiled, the elder of the two NOVA Racing members knowing it was literally her own stake in the line, to get the job done. And there she was again. Helena Starcross. A surprise appearance. But one last comment to add. "It's quite the difference to normal F1. People said it would never work. Well, they never said that Henry Ford would be successful in beating horses, with machines that were unreliable, noisy.....and yet look at us now, it seems hard to say where we're going, doesn't it?" Helena chuckled, her commentary having a big gap since Monaco, but then again, there were enough personalities around the sport hogging the limelight.