RPM
VeyrinDay
cosmiccowgirl
esqueleto
xVampire3go
SonnetNSunbeam
RisingRobin
Gunther
Antlers
PrinceAlexusPinned Open
Cassie's eyes widened, seeing the message hit.
And she started to type, on the neurally linked keys, the thoughts poured out.
"You've got balls to ask." Cassie sighed, looking through internally. She hated this. Hated all of it. What was Kais? Some super-soldier from years past, dropped into a seat....to what end? Just another freak, she thought, the lack of empathy probably helped him to forget he was racing people with feelings, families and emotions of their own. Cassie, hot-headed as she was, was certainly warm in her fire, there was something behind it. She was attached to that humanity of hers, even if it was being peeled back, and as hypocritical as it was of her, she thought Kais less of it.
She hadn't ever said any of this out loud, even emanated any of it. But Cassie had that deep down. That fire, that hunger, that....hate to almost of all of it that perhaps Kais had come out of. It was what kept her close to Harrison, and through all this time, away from Kais. War, conflict, the mess of the world. Even if Han had interacted with the Egyptian, her and Kais hadn't really chatted much. And maybe with good reason.
"I mean, you know my position. I'm not exactly keen if it's what I think it is. I've heard rumours, makes you no better than Amy. And given how angry you were last time I saw you, you haven't got a foot to stand on. So why should I help?" Cassie left almost a biting response, knowing that Kais would no doubt want to hurl whatever object was near him into oblivion, but then again, she wasn't scared. Not like she was going to reach through and strangle her with the diagnostic wire he might be running into himself later. And anyway, scary as she was, she wanted him to understand how she felt.
Yet she tapped away more.
In almost what was a snap of her mind, one that drove past, she sat up. Thinking about all of it, staring into the mirror across from her bed, seeing the changed golden-haze like of her eyes, her composite arm opened out, palm facing upwards, as she swallowed the lump in her throat.
She didn't like any of it. But on those thoughts of what she was, where she was going, and what she'd seen, it almost felt odd. And it felt like in a moment, a flicker ran through her. Like a want to open a door. A part of her that was intrigued as to what on earth was going on. Because she had her own uncertainties, and discomforts. The chats with Dorian, all the uncertainties, if Kais had a knack for timing then he had picked this strangely enough.
"Find attached meeting details. There's a cafe in Henley. It's quantum-link encrypted, blockchain so I know if you do anything, it pours. If you're going to play with fire, Meteor, I'm going to make sure you get set alight if you try anything. I don't know what your game is. But I have a feeling I don't try and figure it out, you'll do something worse." Cassie didn't hide it. And didn't lay off the feeling. With him, she could tell he was angry, but he was a soldier produced in a vat, and so she knew her message wouldn't be misinterpreted. Not with the angst she had in herself about all of it.
And with a send, Cassie exhaled hard. Why the fuck was she doing this? What on earth was compelling her to do this? She wanted to spark him out next time she saw him. Fuck, getting rebuilt after would be worth it. Yet, some tiny morsel inside her, just holding into the conversation she had with Harrison earlier in the year, something just stayed and tracked.
Message to Knight, Alexander"Hey Alexander,
Hope all is going well. I'm dragged into more meetings over the former execs. I am a person of my word and they will be managed so you can focus on this team.
Nice work with Monaco. The PR is incredible out of this. Safe to say, Leopold will pass his regards on if he hasn't already.
That idea from your end on the tour throughout Europe will be a good one for Dorian's legacy and will be one we consider. Strasbourg, Brussels, Rome, Warsaw and Madrid all look like good sites.
We'll need to talk through your shortlist for next year. I've got Leopold's schedule, I can schedule a meeting in with you next week. Bring your lists of options and we can talk through costs, contract lengths, proposed biomodifications and sponsor commitments. Replacing Dorian will be difficult, and your predecessor failed to account for this entirely- I imagine your experience will be helpful here. Remember, we need someone marketable, capable, and someone who can win us something.
Regards,
Johanna"
Thursday 15th June, 2094
Brixworth Wildland Project, Northamptonshire / Leicestershire, England
0700 GMT
Brixworth Wildland Project, Northamptonshire / Leicestershire, England
0700 GMT
Wilder Minds
If rewilding fauna back into a landscape was one thing, slowly and gently reintroducing them needed the flora to follow too. Brixworth was once a lovely village that also happened to house the Mercedes F1 Powertrains facility, but the surrounding rolling hills had turned from typically green farmland into virtually the densest, most overgrown part of the English Midlands that now stretched from Brixworth all the way to Leicester. Decades ago, they wanted to call it "The National Forest", a half-hearted attempt at a joined up woodland. Now it was, except it filled completely- instead of verdant green hills, it was an attempt to create the biggest deciduous forest in England since the Medieval era, pines interspersed with brush and undergrowth growing between the leafy trees. A new one, sure, but a start.
"This is stunning. And I thought the UK didn't have any greenery left." Harrison had recently gotten more and more friendly with Jen, through a mutual introduction via Cassie. And given she was at the circuit, getting her eyes looked at by the Zygon team after her external visit to an optometrist, Harrison enjoyed his spare hour here. A moment to get some calm, before it all went ballistic.
"No worries. Happy to show you my local. I need space out from the team. Things are mental at the moment." Jen replied, the quaint Britishness of the wood not really something that could be matched entirely anywhere else on the Earth. The stone walls that weren't even cemented, the little gravel tracks and the oaks just beginning to grow tall and out, adjacent to those that had been there for hundreds of years, dominating the landscape.
Environmental reparations were a strange thing, but taking the model of what had happened, it seemed like society had turned around and changed. A realisation that nature mattered, deeply had affected the English landscape and resculpted it into something utopian. Civil unrest, the collapse of the farming industry, drought and changes in mentality shifted things.
And so, from all that remaining land, it had been left to rot. Rot, compost, and yet, form the basis of a new world. As farms densified into multi-storey facilities that were more like warehouses, the remaining land was set back to nature as they were left behind. Population decline helped plenty too- with it, densification in cities stayed as is, and as such, the land dropped after a progressive series of land value taxes and renationalisation changed quite how the outdoors looked. Radical once, yet in 2094 in Britain, a step change that had delivered where highly advanced carbon capture and storage hadn't to actually make greenery and biodiverse landscapes. Wrecked by climate change, yet perhaps wiping away what had been left, this arose. The post-change world, perhaps. Oaks planted 20 years ago starting to create shade, and the return of deer, invertebrates, newts, it all healed, even if the entire landscape left in it was made of abandoned buildings and structures, entire villages swallowed whole by trees as if they were now monuments to folly 50 years ago. Life found a way, especially when billionaires with an ecological focus committed to UAV tree planting exercises. The rest was left to the ecosystem to form.
Walking around, it felt like a world put back to something that definitely, certainly hadn't existed in centuries. Quiet, and while almost all of it was new growth, mosses and lichen yet to really form, it was a start. Not as a forestry, not as a plantation or even just a little secluded wood. But as an actual attempt to reform nature.
A Solarpunk utopia was not just about technology becoming more green, but nature being allowed back in. A different mindset than a classic future that some painted, this was a future that blended what was the technology that informed humanity of its world, and drew the canvas of what was already in bloom in a more vivid, beautiful shade of colour. If medical technology had made lives longer, then reduced air, noise and light pollution had improved the people that lived into it markedly longer. And in a single generation, the world turned from one that was on fire, from the collapse of the previous version of the United States, almost the total collapse of the Mediterranean, Central Asia and good chunks of central America in conflict, into recovery. A want for a better world, fuelled, burning with the need to use technology to fix and allow it to heal. So that the people living there had something to live on.
"Makes you think. So much conflict, so much anger out there. And this is what matters." Harrison added, sighing a breath of relief, looking to Jen, as she smirked, with a shrugging sigh.
"What do you mean?" Jen asked, curious, the Aussie not one to spill himself often outside of a party, but this invitation coming from something she wanted to dig into.
The Australian leaned against a tree, thinking deeply, the checkered-shirt wearing, somewhat incognito AG racer having a security detail a tree back for fairly obvious reason.
"Technology is incredible, Jen, look at your hair. But we're becoming less human. Less us. Look at how Layla turns herself inside out, and people think it's a good thing? It's just strange that given how hard we fought to get here, this gets left behind." Harrison mused, Jen certainly not sure on that line of thought, yet captivated. This was the Harrison Makara, the fierce racer she'd seen, going toe to toe with Amy and he seemed almost....an anti-petrolhead?
"Progress is progress though. And I mean, it got us racing. Can't be back in the stone ages, can we?" Jen retorted, knowing Harrison's views, but well, now seeing them bare open a little more here.
"Well, there was a time when they mined, ripped apart vast swathes of land at home back where I came from. Companies running rampant, all justifying it because.....well, government had been made so small it practically didn't exist. The sky was red with forest fires, it was toxic, it became so bad people lived with oxygen in their ventilation systems so they could breathe. And only when they realised, they realised that the whole system was collapsing under their feet they had to do something. Maybe those with a bit of money looked on creation and decided that once you could pluck minerals out of an asteroid, you don't have to fuck people over. Imagine that. Still a bunch of them running the show....at least they got a heart." Harrison thought out loud, sighing.
"Or, they realised half the people they ran into the ground were going to kill them when they got made unemployed? I mean, when Universal Basics came in, I think people nearly had a collective stroke but the entire economy shat itself when they started picking out rare earths our. I remember that, they basically told us it was free. Nothing like it in human history, so hey, suppose they realised sooner if they did nothing there's a lot of people idle and willing to skin them. Oh, after the Water Wars, all that famine and the massive crisis, people....well, it changed. My parents too. I didn't come from money, and I remember when things went to shit in the UK. The storm my dad told me about in '72, fuck, the Dutch and French had it even worse. But a Category 5 hurricane hitting the UK? I get it. It's a change, for sure. Makes me appreciate this a hell of a lot more." Jen added, looking on at the horizon, the trees beginning to cover more and more land, but the landscape it showed different.
The coast was significantly closer given the flooding of the Fens in northern Northamptonshire, and from this hill, that marked change was much more visible in the break in the trees- river valleys now flooded forests and where the ancient irrigation channels had been now being submerged and left to the sea. And before it, a land that was almost left to overgrow, like many inlands of many countries in Europe now looked like. A markedly different landscape, one where it felt easier to get into nature and growth than ever before. While the cities were dense, and packed out, sometimes in an organised manner, sometimes more chaotic, irrespective of continent, it felt like a world gently remade in bloom.
But that had come from fundamental changes that were driven by climate change. Towns, even cities just wiped out, left behind. Refugee camps and inland relocation, the building of new, sustainable cities and a step change that demanded adaptation, not resistance. The old world still there in old cottages and houses, roads and telephone wires, yet increasingly looking like something from the medieval ages in contrast to the new, shiny places that had replaced it beyond. In the UK, a marked shift, but in America, entire swathes had turned to dustbowl, and migration north towards Canada,
If this felt heavy, then that was because it was. Conflict, war, resource stress, famine, squalor, all of them rippled worse around the world, but in a way, the very alteration of the coast, even mentality, reflected a shift. This wasn't like living in the end times, it felt like someone had blitzed the end times, put plaster to the wall and made it here alive, but bloodied.
"Maybe. But the work's not done. There's whole ecosystems that got mined to bits when people went crazy over lithium, then PFAS, now what we do with all the rare earth minerals. We barely got out of that one back in Oz. Underground circuits inland, using old Formula cars and early AG ships still race in the mines. Not like you can fill in a twenty kilometre sized hole." Harrison added, looking on at the track and the growing greenery that was emerging in this mega-forest for such a small island.
"Nora was in that, right?"
"She was. No idea how she got out of it alive though....less we say on that the better." Harrison replied, knowing a little more than Jen would, knowing the reputation of that particular league. It mad Mad Max look like a documentary in places....voluntarily living in the middle of a 50C desert when there was a sustainable mega-city in Melbourne, that was brave.
"Yeah....anyway, what were you getting at earlier?" Jen asked, Harrison shrugging, trying to regain his chain of thought.
"I guess, people always get greedy. If you gave people 50 years ago what we had, they'd think we were from another planet. So many people across the world, environmentalists, indigenous groups, shit, even just the scientists who put time into projects like this forest, there's so much more left to go. It's why I'm so vocal. We got Universal Basics with a chance to fix our world with the dividend of all the technology we had, all to spend it on....well, pretending it doesn't exist. And yet we're in a position to say something, call it out and do something, so we may as well. Look at how things work out when we work together, rather than burying it. I guess I'm less interested in being transhuman than I am being in this world." Harrison added, sighing as he leaned against the tree, the distant stag looking up through the woods, absolutely still, giving him a moment to turn his head to Jen, as they both looked on.
"Blimey, that's melodramatic of that stag. Sorry....just taking it in." Jen chuckled, as the stag bolted, running through the forest, the two walking down through another newly cut track, back down to where they'd left their cars.
"Yeah....your forests aren't full of stuff wanting to kill us. That deer is a beautiful creature. Sorry, I guess it's just, I've met kids that just want to be something else, immersed in a digital world rather than remembering how close we came to wiping this all out. Rather than taking that in for real. They want to become one with the machine and all, they look at us as role models, and I mean....what we say and do has a lot of impact. We're biophilic creatures and we don't belong in concrete. Bloody hell, that's why every building has a bit of green in it so we can at least put that in our monkey brains. This world's everything we made, with the warts it has....but I think we'll enjoy putting it right. Once in a generation chance to do that. So that's why I guess I'm so keen to set that exaple. Use the platform we have to do some good for others." Harrison asked, Jen shrugging her shoulders, chuckling.
"This is getting way, way too deep. I thought I did some good by helping out on a moorland conservation project on the North York Moors....never really thought of it that way. Role models and all that. Guess it's sort of true. Though I guess, I'm just enjoying being in the sport. Given all the shit going on right now." Jen replied, Harrison's nod an affirming one, almost as if to take the heat out of the conversation.
"Whatever you can give is enough, don't sweat it. Shall we get back?"
"You gonna hug a tree on the way back?"
"Well, I think we're a bit past that....pick one for yourself." Harrison chuckled in return, and with it, the two headed back down the hill, and out of what was compartively a very different landscape.
"This was good as an escape. I mean, just all this shit with Fitzroy at the moment....I still can't believe it." Jen added, Harrison feeling for her. This was a messy stuff, and Jen certainly looked tense. More than she was letting on.
"Glad to hear you're staying. Did you meet the new owners?" The Aussie asked, Jen nodding in turn.
"They're alright. Nice bunch, dipping their toes in before they make big changes. Everyone wants a Formula AG team, but nobody realises you need to retain and hire a crew of barely functional, overworked, stressed out engineers that in this day and age, finding is like trying to prise blood from a stone. And that's just the engineering teams....mechanics, designers, everything else. Needs a real drive to make it happen!" Jenny chuckled, Harrison knowing the feeling all too well.
The team were a chaotic bunch, but well, functioned under the intense stress of build, crash, repair, repeat when it came to races.
"Yeah, that sounds about right. I mean, and how about you? I mean, you must have been stressed about it? And is Henry on the hook?"
"Well, it's impossible to know. I mean, between us? It's been shit. And I have to admit, I'd like something faster, the team try their heart out but are never going to go any further doing what they're doing. Going toe to toe in a ship that's awful is tough. And I mean, I know I can do more. Just need the team to prove it. Prove this isn't a fluke while I watch others get promoted from the junior category taking any chances I can." Jenny simply uttered, her own confidence coming back after Monaco, blowing it up plenty, but she knew as well as anyone- keeping her stock high was critical. Nobody talked about Kovalenko, or Waldgard because they weren't any good in poor ships. Even if they had a moment of brilliance, it would be fanned out by just about everything around it.
Harrison's eyebrows raised, thinking on it, the answer obvious to the British racer's issue.
"How about Valkyrie? Isn't Dorian retiring? The hype says you're in line, I thought, plus with your performances this year?"
"Hype is hype, they have their own junior programme, Anna and Scarlett are both really good in those. Ben Hale is screaming for a seat, and Wedge is also tipped for a move, especially when they're on the up. It's all paddock rumours. You know how it is, great pilots get stuck at bad teams and bad pilots stay at good. And everyone gets crushed by Amy."
"Yeah, they happen. They said I was moving to Zygon last year. Can you imagine?" The two chuckled, walking down, nearly out of the woods, metaphorically.
"We'll see what happens. I mean, SuperCat, MMR, hell, even Silver Apex at the rate Jamie is burning up have slots. People move, change, personal preferences, promises get made. I haven't decided yet but I'll think my options over. Plus whatever new management do." Jenny replied, as Harrison chuckled.
"I mean, I have to admit, that Silver Apex spot, it's a clownshow....it would be fun to see someone change that narrative. But it would suck to see you get burnt out. Way Jamie is going, I don't know if any team will take him...." Harrison shrugged, knowing that as bad as the Southern Cross ship was, as horrifically difficult it could be, in the right hands, it was absolutely lightening. Light, almost a bit too much so, but it felt like it was made of glass, not of something requiring weighing down.
"Why don't you do it for a laugh?" Jen replied as Harrison chuckled, shaking his head.
"I think Amy would kill me first."
CULTURE SHOCK///FIRESTARTER///TAKEOVER
Soundtrack: The Prodigy - Firestarter
The bars gently widen.
London. The beating heart, and the skyscrapers and the greenery fading into dark. The drizzly night no stop for the affair in play, and after midnight, the city for Delta Hyper, just became a playground.
And people moving. Electric motocross bikes popping wheelies in the night, spraying water, AG ships and older customs on the road, right outside at the Embankment.
People are up. It’s because this isn’t like most other places. This isn’t the clean, pristine image of anything that London projects, it’s the grime, the underground, the punk.
This is outlaw, this is rebel, but most of all, this is passion, and Formula AG have taken over a little bit. A projector up against the London Eye, the Shard, a drone swarm down the Thames augmented by a serious AR display, that of ships rushing past, displaying to nobody at all at this ungodly hour, but most likely, to you viewer, making one hell of a show.
And as a BMX leaps up onto a rail, a gravboard following behind and leaping off before barely avoiding getting caught in the Thames before the performer bounds back up via a drone, this is a bit of showing off. Because drifting through the middle of the city up Northumberland Avenue and into Trafalgar Square, and followed by car after car, bike after bike, AG craft after AG craft this is rebel culture, and it’s headed only one way. In amidst it, a drifting Silver Apex ship followed by a Carrera one, not pouring smoke, but screaming ELS like they were trying to wake everyone up, the drones weaving and following.
This is an armada, a whole bottle of crazy. And in this older part of the city, still showing marks from floodwater, it feels like a tidal wave of its own.
The scene cuts, jaggers on the gigantic holographic display at Piccadilly Circus as the smoke kicks up through the long hairpin, transitioning clean.
It’s an empty, abandoned warehouse, the darkness lit up with creaking crickets and a bit of moonlight through a panel in the roof.
Any town, anywhere in the UK. Probably near a motorway, probably set up on a local net that went wild.
And snap frame.
And it is full of people.
Soundtrack: The Future Sound of London- Papua New Guinea
Lights, drones, action. And bass that seems to want to rip your ears off, climbs into your chest and rattles your ribs, cramps your diaphragm. It doesn't wobble, it seems to move the earth, melt your mind.
It’s the sound of 2-step, garage, house, trance, drum and bass, dubstep, future bass, but more than that, it’s…..
The sound of the 90s. It seems almost strange that it retains the sound of the future, but in the future, it may as well still sound like it came from Mars of all places. It feels like the screaming call of the tropical rainforest, blended with the industrial fit of a world staring into post-history, posthumanist, utopian change. It feels unsettling, almost inhuman. And yet, rather fitting in that very world.
This is where Formula AG’s beating heart comes from. It’s the rave. And if The Future Sound of London hasn’t gotten into your head and utterly rattled in, then well….none of this makes sense.
But it’s a feeling of the underground, the punk, the counter-culture. Britain may be a land of tradition but this is a place where it feels like it waves a middle finger at it, at every occasion. Not through petrol bombs, but through performance. Through merely outcreating, and going against the tide.
A feeling of being on the motorway and pirate radio stations, going from rave to rave, interspersed talks, even in 2094, this is still alive. They said it was dead. But it was still kicking. So long as people were jilted, bored and left to their own devices, this is the feeling of being in the future. And music that happens to perfectly fit.
It’s chaos, it’s deafening, and complex in holographic displays when you’re in the midst of it, watching it through. But over far too soon in what is a haze and with a snap frame, back to reality. Because this isn’t Formula AG…..but it may as well bleed into it.
And contrasted in a cutting change to Silver Apex’s ship, sitting on a rack, empty. Dissolving into wireframe, and breaking into all constituent components, bolts, subframes, generators, everything dissolving into a broken up, immersed, almost exploded out view. And in the midst of it as it splinters, Amy, her own self breaking open, arms, organs, leaving nothing but a face, numbers, code, digitalism and everything following, yet her blink to camera cutting back to the warehouse empty.
And as the last people leave, as the light breaks. The sun barely rising over a rainy horizon, people asleep in the back seats of a humming AG-set car, the forest breaking to reveal a rain-soaked race Silverstone through the wipers at the front.
The afterglow, voices murmuring, mostly sounding exhausted, tired, but partied out.
Maybe the crews of Delta had gone with their fun in Monaco, Japan, and elsewhere, but here, this was what it was truly about. Even if it was a little too orchestrated, and perhaps a little too on the nose, for those in the know, this was a homage to a little something that maybe AG racing owed its heart, that Wipeout-inspired tangent where it all came home.
RACING GREEN////CLASSICS////ATMOSPHERE
A collab with @Starlance
Silverstone Circuit, Northamptonshire, England
The dawn chorus of birds chirping away was interrupted by drizzle, and the hyper-modern, glass fronted pits getting pittered with rain, the stands empty with a raven cawing at Silverstone. Well, apart from the movement of personnel, a murmur that carries on the dead, drizzly air.
The party’s hangover is never that fun to run through, because Britain even in summer, can be gloomy when it decides to drizzle and be overcast.
This is not exactly where modern motorsport may have its glamour, but, it is a place where it comes back. The legends, the feeling of almost a century and a half of history in hallowed ground. And yet, it’s quiet, almost ambient. An opposite to the buzz experienced by anyone watching. This is feeling by now, more like a short film, this entire intro about 10 minutes long in length. Which is unusual, given it seems to usually be a few, yet perhaps there’s a feeling this one has something a little more to it.
The cold, rainy outside cuts away as one by one, Amy, Kais, Han, Paul, Dorian, Nora, Jenny and last of all, Bea in a flashy cut, enter into the garage as it opens on the roller shutter, the illusion almost looking like they’re in the same place, before sticking on the last of those characters. The car, or the ship seems to metamorphosize from old to new in wireframe and then built up quality, from the nose to the chassis, the tyres to the sidepods and rear wings, before sticking completely to a black Mercedes AMG F1 W20 EQ Performance from 2020, so as to give its full name, that of Hamilton’s last title-winning, dominant car from the era, sitting there in carbon and composite glory. Aurora stands by Bea’s side, looking across with a certain smirk on her face.
“So when you were invited to give a classic F1 car a go, what was your first thought?”
”YES!” Bea cheered at the top of her lungs, forcing Delta Hyper’s editor to perform some post-processing sorcery on the audio to level it out. ”Except not out loud, we were at a café.” She briefly returned to a normal speaking voice - for her, anyway - before pitching back up in excitement, ”And then came the options!”
As she spoke, an observant viewer would note that she had a visibly hard time paying attention to Aurora, her gaze wandering over to the piece of motorsport history she was being entrusted with every few seconds.
Aurora’s chuckle came with a respondent nod, looking across at the car, a far cry in technology now to what AG ships came with.
“Excited then?” Aurora chuckled, looking into the cockpit, then back at Bea.
“Well, no neural link with this car, plenty less aerodynamics than you’re used to, and over 1,000 horses of pure mechanical and electrical power with nothing more than your wits to keep it on the tarmac. So, fancy taking it for a spin for us?” Aurora asked, knowing that question, even scripted, wouldn’t get a second split thought.
Bea stopped just short of asking ‘Does the Thames stink?’ in response, simply nodding. Goal number one: Don’t bin it. There was a second goal, as she remembered Ava’s words from earlier that week:
”50 Pesos they’ll have to hoist you out of it at the end.”
Not do that. In addition to less aero and no neural link, other things that were understandably missing were power steering and G-force dampers. But it would’ve been a crime to add.
The screen split somewhat, breaking as other pilots clambered into their various Formula cars, from the iconic livery of the 2049 Red Bull whose canopy was raised, and felt minimal inside, to the comparatively ancient 80s Renault that Dorian clambered into, the smell of fuel absolutely honking inside it, contrasted with Han’s incredibly elegant Hyundai that felt like that Red Bull but with even more aero slats and controls on it, and a light neural interface. The 2025 Mclaren of Piastri with adapted throttle for Nora, the 2057 Porsche for Kais, a beautifully glossy grey, red and ochre, the 2065 Audi that Jenny clambered into, and the 1975 Ferrari driven by Paul that made Bea’s Merc look comparatively new. With all of them, they went to turn the engine, and a roar sounded like it was almost in technicolour.
“Radio check, Bea.” The camera came back in to Bea’s face, and the rain outside didn’t seem to stop.
”Bet you I can pass down the inside of Copse with this beast.” She snickered as the not-silver ‘silver arrow’ slowly crept up to its grid slot, doing burnouts along the way to get some last-minute heat into the rear tires. This was the first time in forever that tire temperature was a concern, and Bea was grateful she could use an anachronistic 2070s helmet with a HUD that allowed her to monitor everything she needed without taking her eyes off the track.
”Please don’t.” Alistair’s eye roll was practically audible, ”Regretting not picking something with a canopy?”
”What’s a little rain compared to driving this beast?” She shook her head as the nanite coating kept clearing the raindrops off her visor.
”At least you won’t mistake sweat for rain like some others.” The historic cars were bringing out the historic jokes.
In another garage next door, Aurora walked over right as the Mercedes left its own, the sight of Paul gearing up, and the 1975 Ferrari being looked after as almost a priceless, beyond valuable car. An over 100 year old car, but the flat 12 in it roared, and backfired, making ear protection an absolute necessity.
“Paul, this looks incredible! What a car, and how are you feeling?”
Paul was excited about driving Lauda’s legendary car. He had been looking for this ever since he had been given options to choose from. He knew he was driving one of the oldest cars in this exhibition but the history that stemmed from what Lauda accomplished in this season set the tone for championships to come. Paul was wearing a replica of Lauda’s racing suit. The suit had all the modern safety features but had the red coloring with the white trim in areas to mimic Lauda’s suit. Team Valkyrie had cleverly substituted retro logos of Team Valkyrie sponsors to replace Lauda’s original sponsor logos on the suit and helmet. His helmet included special ear protection since the unmuffled roar of the mighty engine was strong enough to cause permanent hearing loss when subjected to it over time. He was standing next to the sleek red chassis Ferrari. The front wing and the tower behind the cockpit were white with a green red stripe at the top of the tower. Paul had his helmet under his arm as he talked to Aurora so hear her. He already had on the fireproof balaclava that went under the helmet. He smiled at Aurora, his smile full of genuine awe and excitement.
Paul: “Well Aurora, I am honored to be chosen to be a part of this event. I am humbled to be able to drive one of Lauda’s 1975 Ferraris. Lauda’s contributions to Formula One set the tone for years to come. He pushed innovations and records. He was a highly decorated and skilled driver and engineer. This may be the oldest car on the track today but it has to be one of the most important in Formula racing history.”
Paul smiled as he waited to see if Aurora had any other questions. He was itching to dive into the cockpit but he could wait a few minutes more. Paul saw that Aurora was done and was waiting to film him getting in the car. He pulled on the helmet and plugged in the communications cords and data jacks that would monitor his vitals and the car’s performance. He would not have access to his neural link for this. Paul was excited to test his skills without all the enhancements from modern technology and cybernetics. Paul climbed over into the sleek car that sat low to the ground. His long legs stretched out to find the pedals. He strapped on the safety harness as one of his engineers tested the straps for security. He was then handed the removable steering wheel. He quickly attached and tested it to make sure it was attached appropriately. Paul actually had to train on the early and now archaic safety features of the car in order to drive it. They had drilled him on the way to get out quickly in case he crashed. The car was priceless though. It would be a true tragedy if he wrecked it.
“Definitely, and this car went up against James Hunt, a real showboating figure from the 1970s. And here I thought Bea was driving something with little support! It must feel strange, in something so raw, something so powerful. How does it feel, to be sitting in a car, with such a basic arrangement? No traction control, manual gears, virtually no aerodynamics, this must be quite a different feeling to your own ship?” Aurora asked, letting him do his thing, getting setup and ready, getting a response in before leaving.
Paul gave Aurora a big smile as he sat in the cockpit of the storied Ferrari. “Well I love classic cars but this will be the first time I have driven something this powerful without the additional safety equipment. Aurora contrary to popular belief this car has excellent aerodynamics! It will be very different from flying my ship since this vehicle relies on traction with the ground through wheels. I am up for the challenge and looking forward to the experience. Ask me again after I cross the finish line. See you there Aurora!” Paul waved at her as his team began to push the car towards the warm up area.
The Ferrari was pushed onto the track just like it would have been during Lauda’s time. Paul had the biggest dopiest grin on his face as he started up the car. The engine roared to life with a deep growl and a backfire. Evidently it had been some time since the car had been started. It quickly cleared out any dust in the lines and injectors. Paul could feel the power of the car as he sat in the seat with the engine causing the whole chassis to vibrate. It was a unique feeling compared to the ship he usually piloted. His look became one of awe and respect. He motioned the crew out of the way as he hit the accelerator causing the tires to burn rubber warming them up slightly. Paul took the car out onto the track to warm up the tires. He kept the speed lower as wove back and forth as he made his way around and then back into pit lane. He kept his foot on the gas and his hands on the shifter as he was once again in place at the starting line of the pit lane. He was waiting for the race to start. Paul ignored the rain coming down even as it fell into his open cockpit. His race suit was fireproof and waterproof. He looked over at Bea in the lane next to him with a grin. “See you at the finish line!”
The roar of the V6 hybrid Bea was piloting was muted compared to the other sound of the other cars on track, the three-cylinder roar of the Red Bull that peeled through Luffield piloted by Amy, and then the deep shrill of the Ferrari's 12 cylinders. Slower, sure, but of different eras, and to watch them alongside was nearly a 70 year difference, yet Han’s Hyundai was nearly a full 100. And that was just up to 20 years prior to the ships that now raced! The water spraying off the wing and the mirror-like sheen of the glass canopy and Paul’s own teeny windshield reflecting races before, from the very first F1 race at Silverstone, the glory days of the 60s and 70s, Graham Hill, Stirling Moss, Mansell, Coulthard, Hamilton, Norris, and Starcross, the shot for shot matching her getting a rapture of cheers as she peeled through Copse, the sight of Han’s Hyundai going wheel to wheel with Amy's Red Bull through Becketts and Chapel, the spray dying back as the morning slowly faded away and the sun burnt the water on track away.
A sight to see, because the camera panned through, and bit by bit, the crowds slowly taking their seats, the festival-like atmosphere of the infield filling with people, onto the modernised stands in one area and the more gleaming new VIP stands above the pits that showed the contrast off at its finest. This was racing on show, both the ultra-rich, and yet, the pure, absolute spirit of this at once. Because this was literally a slideshow in motion of the history of F1, and the fans were going absolutely ballistic. This wasn’t the polite, hyper-luxury of Monaco’s parties and fancy balls, this was a feeling that motorsport had come home (even if the football still hadn’t by 2094, amazingly). This was beer and cider drinking, team-wear branded, history-knowing, Formula and AG racing fanatics alike in force. And the noise collectively, the transition from the rainy morning into the sunny mid-day felt as abrupt as the British weather itself could be. Bipolar, and well, perhaps personified in that cut.
Paul waited for the race lights to signal his timed start. He could feel the history at Silverstone. Racing was in the very stones that made up the track and stands. He could feel the presence and energy of all the great races of the past that were represented in the cars for this demonstration race. It was a great tribute to Formula Ag’s roots and Formula One racing. Paul’s smile got even bigger as he began his timed laps. He punched the accelerator and shot out of pit lane. He whooped with joy as the deep throaty rumble of the large engine responded to his demands. He was quickly taking a good racing line as he did his best to eke out every ounce of speed he could and keep firm control of the powerful car. Paul’s reflexes and experience driving classic cars showed through here. He was pulling out lap times you would expect from an experienced racer from Lauda’s time. Paul knew that the top speed for Lauda’s Ferrri was 180 miles per hour or 290 kilometers per hour. He pushed the car but not hard enough to worry the engineers that he would overheat the engine. The racing tires made for the rain made a huge difference as the car managed not to hydroplane on the track. The car threw up a rooster tail of mist and rain behind it as it passed by. The deep noise from the Ferrari’s engine seemed to drown out everything around him. He laughed as Han passed him in the Hyundai followed by Bea.
The circuit was broadly the same for the classic cars, but for AG ships came with a massive MAG bank at Stowe that created an inverted, cambered hairpin that then spat back into Vale, literally like pulling a cuban eight that showed off in a magnificent fashion just how sticky the AG ships were there, and made for the bravest overtaking zone. Not that anyone insane enough in an F1 car would test the theory of the car sticking to the metal that much even inverted, so a right turn it was....
And in that Mercedes, approaching Dorian’s yellow and black liveried Renault, that frankly screamed in comparison and stank of fuel, it must have been a sight to behold as the lone Mercedes was joined by a whole set of Formula cars through the ages, right towards Stowe.
[color=fff200] Paul was all smiles as his adrenaline junkie fueled dreams were coming true as he put Lauda’s car through its paces. He was having the time of his life as he sent the Ferrari screaming down the straight way clocking in at l70mph. He managed to brake and smoothly come through the chicane at the end of the straight. He smiled as he was passed by Kais in the 2065 Audi as he passed him in a corner. Kais was driving a much more modern and faster car. Paul just grinned knowing he made Kais work to pass him in that corner. It didn’t take away from his joy in driving Lauda’s Ferrari. There was something exhilarating about driving the car. That sense of power that came from having his whole body vibrating with the tune of the motor as it growled and responded to his every command. He was riding an almost euphoric high as he came out of the corner and hit the accelerator using the shifter to quickly change gears and pick up speed.
Bea had been uncharacteristically silent throughout the exhibition drive, getting updates but not responding beyond a double tap of the push-to-talk button. Later she’d joke that she’d been too focused on not dropping it to do much else besides driving, but that was a lie. Simply put, she was in awe. Silver spoon or not, there were still things money could not get easily. Then, as they were signaled to slow down and return into the pits, she eased up on the throttle, letting the others pass and drove one-handed, waving to any manned grandstands as she went by.
Until Stowe.
With no one behind her, she slowed the car down to a crawl, creeping up to the apex, in view of the spectator areas on the outside of that last corner before pit entry…
…and floored the throttle in first gear at full steering lock, sending the car into a dozen donuts before coming to a stop facing the wrong way, flicking the car around and pulling in in an orderly manner.
FIAR and/or the owners of the car were almost guaranteed to complain and the rear tires were definitely dead, but they could bill her and see if she cared. All throughout the pitlane until the car was stopped and put on dollies, the audio recording and anyone standing near the car would catch a long, gleeful laugh and just before the driver camera mounted at the base of the halo cut out, it would catch her raising the visor and wiping away a few tears of unashamed, childish joy.
Smoke pouring, as the crowd came to roar, a little act of defiance definitely not in the plan, but one that came back with history. Another British driver making her most out of Silverstone, and well, plenty more now being wheeled out again after a quick little exhibition. All of them, all at once, together, warmers taken back off the old 2020 Merc and a disappointed looking historical racing team that kept the Merc as a museum piece having their hearts skip a beat, but one older engineer beaming at Bea and caught on camera absolutely loving the sight of it.
This was the last little bit of the setup, and well, a sight to behold because it wasn’t just one, or the other, it was all of them now coming together.
With the historic cars settling into the grid, the camera cut back into the roaring crowds, a Spitfire over the track on a gloriously sunny day, and a cut back to last year’s race. A tense one, because whilst modified even more than it was 70 years ago, with an expanded section past the Hangar Straight, this circuit being modified. And with all cars on the grid, there’s a certain look forward. Amy looking through the glass through her visor, back at the vintage look of Dorian’s old Renault, the older Ferrari Paul had, and back from that, Han’s 2070 spec Hyundai.
It was a Friday morning setup, and an intro filmed barely an hour before Practice in the AG ships would take place. But, no pilot with an invitation would miss this. No fan without a ticket either, would dare not come along.
Soundtrack: Fleetwood Mac- The Chain (F1 Intro Version)
The history. The wins, British drivers, foreigners making this green and pleasant land their track of choice, the fans, the masses of cult-like following, young and old, motorsport addicted fans who keep coming every year, in spite of good or bad in the world beyond. Reflected in the visors, showing all of it. Hamilton round the inside, Starcross taking five in a row and almost causing a track invasion, Florence continuing that trend albeit with three, and Amy repeating the same with a British winner, twice in a row.
Cutting to her sitting on Delta Hyper's sofa, suited up, silver and pale white pilot’s suit, her hair left undone, gloves in hand, helmet in spare, looking dead into the camera.
“Welcome to Great Britain. Silverstone. Our patch.” And almost as if an X-Ray of Amy blips, wireframe, blipping out, the Red Bull phasing into the AG ship of Silver Apex, parts, pieces, everything as if it just rendered from digital into real.
And the music seems to come into pitch. Like it just turns to 11, and with it, the camera cuts to Amy’s eye as the four lights come in.
Her breathing can be heard, the clutch and electrical whine of the now 45-year old F1 car can be heard, the camera beaming into her eyes, inverting into her perspective and looking out through the visor. And with it, one gentle pull as the lights go out, and suddenly, it is all cars and ships away, roaring into symphony, the noise cutting to the whine of an AG ship and the roar of many of them, from last year, coming back in.
This was history right here, right now.
And the song, well…of course it was The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. A bass chord that frankly aligned with the pulsing of a heart, and a riff that screamed like an engine. Because no matter how punk, outlandish, weird, and progressive things could be….would it be anything else? The scene cuts, and seamlessly, the crowd reaction roars.
DELTΔ HYPER
Episode Eight: The Chain
Round 8 of Formula Anti-Gravity
Friday 16th June, 2094
Practice Day
British AGP
Silverstone, Northamptonshire, England
1600 GMT
Friday 16th June, 2094
Practice Day
British AGP
Silverstone, Northamptonshire, England
1600 GMT
Delta Hyper: Live!
And what a crowd it was, a festival-like stage and setup in the midst of the circuit.
With practice over, the fans that had turned up for the exhibition at the start of the day hadn’t yet left. That was because nobody was leaving the environs of the circuit before they went back inside to the main stage, back to a festival that by now, almost eclipsed Glastonbury in terms of the pure insanity, vibes and presence. And as one of the biggest sports on the planet, well, the stars of the sport even eclipsed the filler that was an English rock band, a Kiwi drum and bass act, and an American rapper’s increasingly controversial songs blasting to a roaring crowd. That was because they had their own headline slot, and each team, and the one driver they elected had an opportunity to get up on stage. Delta Hyper had made sure of that, because between the showruns in the infield of classic cars, the straight up Forza Horizon level car meet that had spawned, the music and pure energy, they were here.
So, this was a bit of an interview with a difference. Aurora amped up the crowd, because what was a Silverstone tradition was back in full force, the crowd more like they were awaiting another musical act, let alone just seeing the pilot up on stage.
Of course, being the face of Delta Hyper and having a mic, with another, and a sofa right across from her meant only one thing.
“Silverstone, welcome back to Delta Hyper Live after our little intermission! How we doing?”
The crowd of course, deafened even her in-ear speaker and lightly augmented hearing, as she grinned, beaming with white teeth.
Soundtrack: Kasabian- Underdog
“I think you’re gonna like our next one, she’s exploded onto the scene and made you all fans of Carrera Condor, so get your hands up and show some love for Beatrice Ward!” Aurora yelled into the mic, and the crowd proceeded to go absolutely bonkers, the smoke and the rainbow coloured blast of smoke, lasers, and AR-fuelled show basically a total sensory overload for literally anyone, because if there was ever a moment to become a rockstar in this sport, it would be right here, right now. To the theme of Underdog by Kasabian? Rather fitting, perhaps…
Bea emerged from the drivers’ staging area with a wave, a broad grin and a duffel bag slung across her shoulder, filled to the brim with both CC drivers’ signed merch - hats, beanies, the condor plushies the team launched in Italy and t-shirts and hoodies tightly wrapped so they’d fly well - and throwing it over the fence into the crowd as she went. This one she did actually clear with the event organizers first, no point testing the ice too harshly. Ascending to the stage, she ditched the now-empty bag out of sight behind the sofa and took the offered microphone, turning back to the crowd. ”Thank you!” She waited for the cheering to die down a little before continuing, ”I expected the crowd to be amazing here, but you have really outdone yourselves.”
Aurora beamed as the crowd reacted in turn, the floor nearly shaking with the cheering.
“Wow, what a reaction, and they are loving you! Have you got any words for your home crowd?” Aurora asked Bea, the crowd still absolutely buzzing.
Bea took a breath to speak, getting stuck wheel spinning for a second or two. ”Honestly, I’m a little bit speechless. I had something prepared since Tuesday, but… could someone go check Stowe, I think I left it there somewhere. It might’ve fallen out because of the g-force. She pointed in the corner’s direction to buy herself a moment to think of something.
I suppose a thank you is in order for showing up early and in force. I may have been here twice before in the junior series, but this does hit different - I may look calm but that’s not true, I’m just good at hiding the panic - and seeing all of this and knowing that you might have made someone’s day even just a bit better, that’s fuel for the soul. And a special thank you to that group of six or seven blokes I passed during the drive here waving an Argentinian flag, for giving me a chance.
The home crowd is always a different beast, even if the track might disagree with your intentions. I can’t promise you much, folks, except that it will be better than Monaco.”
Aurora smirked, the Irish presenter of Delta Hyper recognising the absolute hype that came with it. The expectations were on, and no doubt, the crowd was just loving the energy that came with the Carrera Condor racer.
“Big words Bea, and I can only imagine plenty of fans will be loving your adventures to come, as we have with you and the whole Delta Hyper cast so far! Do you think you’ll do a little better than Monaco here then, and show us a bit of as they say, hashtag Rally Brave?” Aurora teased, catching Bea certainly there with a throwback as the crowd, on that note predictably whooped.
She let out a hearty chuckle at the last bit. ”’Slow and steady wins the race’ was invented by boring people.
I think we’ve learned a lot as a team and I as a driver compared to Auckland - it being a similar track - and the ship has also come quite far, plus overtaking is easier here than Monaco and runoffs are- well, are a thing, full stop, so a small mistake isn’t the end of the race. Even though Silverstone demands a balanced ship, we can lean more on the things we’re good at here without suffering as much from our shortcomings.
So yep, I’m feeling good about this weekend.” She looked around, ”Aaaand no wood to knock on in sight.”
Aurora giggled in reply, the crowd laughing along to Bea’s classy sarcasm, the break letting the Irish interviewer jump back in.
“Bringing on the progress, and well, you’ve certainly caught the noise of the crowd. Bea Ward, thank you for coming on, and one last time Silverstone, let’s make some noise for MadBea!” Aurora yelled into the mic as the screaming came back, Aurora looking to Bea and letting her do her own thing, one last time on this stage as if to say “savour this”, as if to suggest that this was the one time, even compared to America or the AG-mad fans of New Zealand and Australia, to really, really take this in. This was what being a celebrity was all about, and well, exit stage right she would be pointed to because there were others to follow.
Following Bea’s interview, Aurora interviewed Jenny, who was up on stage, for what many now believed to be her last time in Fitzroy Orbital gear, but given her performances, almost certainly staying on the grid for years to come, popping out to a more modern swing on a 1990s track.
Soundtrack: Foals- The Runner
Summer in the UK? Yeah, it just sort of felt right, because for an island where it often poured with rain, on a cloudless Friday afternoon, it was perfection. Life was simple. Even though the plastic cups were replaced with biocomposite, RFID enabled tags to recycle them and the cider was churned out of lab-grown composite that basically tasted like Strongbow (ie not good), the atmosphere was good.
“It’s really been awesome, getting that point and showing what I can do in the Fitzroy ship. And yes, there are rumours…but stay tuned as there’s plenty more on the horizon, this isn’t a last goodbye!” Jenny called out, smiling and getting plenty of cheers for it, herself this season becoming a bit of an underdog like Bea had been, and their friendship certainly showed that.
That was swiftly followed by Astrid, who took to the stage, and inevitably had to answer the question on everyone’s mind, coming in to an absolutely slapping track by Nia Archives.
Soundtrack: Nia Archives - Baianá (camoufly Edit)
“Well, the yacht was close, so I went and had a drink, some might say it lacks commitment but….I was bored, and I mean, what was I gonna do, not enjoy the sunshine?” Astrid replied, the crowd screaming in what could only be described as peak 39p energy drink mindset and sustainable gin energy.
Soundtrack: Irah and Chase and Status- Gunfinger
Kofi frankly countered that vibe, getting his own entry with some classic Chase and Status. He might have been a lovely guy on the surface, but he always leaned into that vibe, always keeping a little fire inside him. He always got a cheer, maybe not the loudest, but he was always well received.
“Well, we got a point. We’re not doing too badly. And I have all you lovely, beautiful, amazing, rockstars too!” The crowd swooned frankly for Kofi, his grin wide like a cheshire cat, which the crowd adored.
Soundtrack: ODESZA - Loyal
Max’s intro was bombastic, set to Loyal by Odesza, hands in air, thinking he was definitely bigger than Oasis on stage, but well, the MMR fans loved it and he certainly embraced it as the points came in this season. There was no doubt about it, the MMR branding getting thrown into the stage, and the American feeding off the energy. There was no doubt, he could do festival crowds, something about it just screamed labrador energy that he could return.
“Yeah, absolutely love it here, so so much. I mean, wow, what an intro that was to it, and even as a Yank as you guys say, I’m looking forward to it already!”
Han, Paul, Nora and Kais were watching in the green room, huddled close in a sweaty, humid and hot room without air conditioning. The door opened, as one of the roadies pointed at Paul, over the deafening roar beyond, Aurora's voice just about audible.
“Silverstone, I know you are loving our group so far, but shall we meet the son of a legend?” Aurora asked, knowing the audience was gassed to see the next, and well, it was an easy roller…
“All the way from Belgium, and fresh off a podium, make some noise for Valkyrie’s Paul Mulder!”
The crowd screamed, particularly those who were no doubt, seeing the hottest man in the sport since….maybe a young Dorian? Either way, they were going off for the new podium sitter, and this was a hell of a lot of people, probably close to ten thousand or so, flags and all. The music came in, and it was all kicking off.
Soundtrack: Imagine Dragons - Whatever It Takes
“Welcome on stage, Paul! Well, it’s been a turbulent ride with Valkyrie this season. In front of your adoring fans, some of whom are definitely a little more than adoring, what do you have to say about sticking through a rough patch and coming back to winning ways?”
The crowd screamed, and well, the stage was Paul’s.
Paul joined Aurora on stage waving to fans and the crowd as he made his way up to join her. Paul was in his race suit for the coming qualifying race at Silverstone. He was wearing the dark gray with the golden yellow trim of Team Valkyrie. He was all smiles and charismatic energy. A microphone drone was close enough to pick up his words. He had a confident look on his face even as he paused to think about his answer before replying.
“Hello Aurora, It is always a pleasure to speak with you.”
He turned to the fans in the stands at Silverstone and waved.
“Hello Silverstone! Is everyone having a good time! It is so good to be here with you all!”
He waited for the crowd to roar and cheer out as he greeted them.
“Well Aurora, Team Valkyrie might have had a tough start to the season but my mother taught me that you have to fight for what you believe in. You don’t give up when it gets hard. You fight harder. Anything worth doing well is worth all your effort. We have fought hard to make the changes necessary for long term growth. I believe that effort is beginning to pay off. I believe Alexander Knight was the right person for the job of taking Team Valkyrie to new heights. I trust him to lead me to a championship in the future. I expect to get more podiums in my rookie season thanks to him.”
He gave Aurora a confident smile as he waited to see what else she might like to know.
“Wow, a glowing review right there! We’ve all been watching as the team has pushed through difficult times, and well, it seems like you have all turned a corner. A question that often gets fielded though- some say that Valkyrie currently has two of the hottest drivers on the grid, how do you think that dynamic will change when Dorian leaves? The fans have definitely done the rounds on social media about that one!”
Paul actually blushed a little at the question. While he was used to having the media’s attention, he was still not used to them digging into his private life. He was not the type to be a horndog and use his fame to take advantage of those who found him attractive. His hand reached up and rubbed the back of his neck as a sheepish expression crossed his face as he was obviously embarrassed by the question and thinking of how to respond. He cleared his throat roughly and gave it his best.
“Well Aurora, I guess I should thank the fans who find me and my teammate attractive. Dorian certainly isn’t shy when it comes to his relationships. As to how that dynamic will change when Dorian leaves, I guess that depends on the fans.” He waved a hand out to indicate all the fans in the audience. “Who knows there might be new rookies next year that they find more attractive. We will just have to see what happens. After all it will be the fans to decide.” He shrugged as if it was beyond his power to predict which it was.
Aurora chuckled, smiling back and knowing that as difficult a question as it was, well, in front of a crowd that laughed and cheered along with it, that was a power all its own.
“Well, we will have to see! How has been working with Dorian been over the last few months? He’s someone who raced with your father, too; what have you gained from his approach to racing?”
Paul smiled as this question was much easier to answer. “Well Dorian was justifiably frustrated with setbacks within the team. He has been a supportive teammate. We have very different racing styles. I would say I have learned more from him about the business side of racing than actual racing skills. It has been nice to hear stories of my father from someone who knew him.” He gave a warm smile at that thought.
“Aww, it’s a wholesome turn of events, and he seems to be enjoying his last year in Formula AG with you. With his retirement this year, many are wondering, what comes next for Valkyrie? Would there be anyone you would love to partner with next year?” Aurora asked, the question baited, but of course, a little media training would help control. Unless, Paul really had any preferences….
Paul looked thoughtful before giving his answer. “I have no idea who Alexander Knight is looking at to replace Dorian as he retires. I honestly think he has been too busy fixing issues to focus on it much. I can say we have some promising talent in our Junior AG circuit that might be stepped up. As for me, I am content where I am. Team Valkyrie has been good to me. I don’t plan on going anywhere. Dorian might need something to keep him busy though Aurora. Do you need a costar?” Paul poked back at Aurora with a grin. Who knew maybe Dorian would like the idea.
Aurora chuckled, nodding with a grin, tilting her head.
“Well, he’d make a fine addition to Delta Hyper’s team! Let’s see what the future brings, and well, we are all excited to see what happens next.” Aurora started, turning back to the crowd, these short interviews a snippet into the drivers, this time in the flesh.
“On that note, Silverstone, please give it up for Paul Mulder everyone!”
Paul smiled and waved to the fans. “Thank you for having me Aurora.” He continued to wave to the fans as he left the stage.
“From the land of the pyramids, and lighting the track up with his meteoric overtakes, welcome on stage Kais Zenix!” The crowd was not as wild as perhaps they were for Bea or perhaps swooning like Paul, but Kais had his own die-hards in the crowd that were obsessed with the Meteor. Like a certain football club, it was painful to follow sometimes, but when he got it right, they adored it and felt so vindicated. And well, even though many anticipated Layla to be up, here, unexpectedly to some, was Kais Zenix, in possibly the highest profile interview he’d had. And considering that was versus a cafe in Monaco, the actual Moon, and on top of a mountain in Italy, this was perhaps something a little different.
“Al-Saqr have been the dark horse of this season, and to the crowd, what would you say about a team that’s chasing the frontrunners with one of the most aggressive, absolutely punchy ships in recent years? We love your tech focussed socials, so tell us more about what it’s like to be at the cutting edge?”
Aurora was certainly still keeping the energy going, certainly helped out by plenty of natural-based stimulants keeping her on her toes.
“For all you Zygon fans out there, please welcome Han Hyeon-Ae!” The cheers roared, the K-Pop in full blare, introducing Han to the crowd, the die-hard Zygon flags in the festival crowd waved high.
“Han, safe to say you’re the best racer in Korea, and with the upgrades this week that I heard about from a little bird, how are you feeling going into this weekend?
Soundtrack: Flume- Highest Building (Prospa Remix)
“Next up, the sensation taking Formula AG by storm, and even one of the worst crashes in recent years couldn’t stop her from being here today, give it up for Nitro, Nora, Kelly!”
The crowd screamed, Nora’s punkish vibe catching the crowd’s joy- because Nora was one of them, unlike a few of the others from esteemed backgrounds, Nora was the racer from an underground league, someone who fiddled with old cars like they did, and lived rough just likey had.
“Nora, what a season it has been for you, ups and downs! We’re still blown away you’ve come so back so fast, and I think the crowd will agree, it’s awesome to have you here! How are you feeling coming back to the title fight between you, Harrison and Amy for this season?”
Last but not least? Everyone’s favourite frenemy. And to some Royal Blood that sounded straight up villainous on walk out.
Soundtrack: Royal Blood- Typhoons
The boos were drowned out by of course, Silver Apex’s most adoring fans. British people, maybe that bias was still there if it hadn’t swung for Bea, Cassie or Jenny.
“Silverstone, how are we doing this evening!” Amy called out, almost sidestepping Aurora completely, putting her hands in the air.
“Love you all, and we are so freaking back!” Amy blew a kiss to the crowd, brushing her blonde hair to the side, crashing onto the couch.
“Making an entrance here are we Amy? Sounds like you’re back at your favourite event, looks like you answered my question I was about to ask!” Aurora called, Amy simply beaming a glow. This wasn’t some cold, detached, by the numbers racer. This was an alive, animated Amy, who was completely feeding on energy like solar power here from the crowd that had turned up.
“Absolutely, Aurora, it is amazing. So many amazing people, and yeah, we’re the home team. Of course we’re making a statement!” Amy yelled, chugging an arm in like she was pulling on the shackle of a steam train’s horn, to the roar of the crowd.
“Wow, and what a response! We have seen you fight with Nora and Harrison this season, is it fair to say you plan on giving us a show?” Aurora asked, as Amy simply pointed the mic at the screaming audience, shrugging her shoulders, grinning and simply giving a bow, almost bounding across the stage.
“Looks like I will! Nora and Harrison have been pushing me this season, Kais and Paul too but you know what I think…..I reckon I might have the crowd reaction, right, Silverstone?” Amy put hand to ear and mic out as the audience whooped, as she dropped the mic, grinning ear to ear, walking out on Aurora early and with a certain lack of care, waving and blowing a kiss to the festival masses, before walking out through the door at the back of the stage.
If Auckland felt like the new breed coming out and swinging, it felt like Silverstone was a chance to swing back.
Friday 14th June, 2094
Silverstone, Northamptonshire, England
1400 GMT (Earlier that day)
Silverstone, Northamptonshire, England
1400 GMT (Earlier that day)
La Chauffeur
Dorian shut the canopy, as Maxine Lomas clambered in, the French World Cup winning footballer geared up in a Valkyrie racing suit and helmet, more like she was off to fly with Chevaliers de la Ciel rather than on board with Dorian in the specialised ship. The captain of Les Bleues was a legend in her own right, perhaps a little bit like Dorian. She was joining him for a hotlap at Silverstone after practice, an unusual slot but Friday was jam-packed with activities- the Delta Hyper intro records in the morning and the exhibition showrun, the practice sessions, then the VIP work, the data delve and then the festival appearances later, before more data work, food and getting sleep. This was less of a sponsorship gig for Valkyrie's ends, but definitely one that would improve socials and optics. After all, a few more footballers had also turned up given the World Cup was on in a few weeks during the Season Break, and many leagues had finished, or were about to complete.
"Okay, ready! Hit it, Dorian!" She yelped, the Valkyrie team harnessing her in, thumb up to the seat in front as Dorian chuckled.
"My pleasure, just remember, gentle breathing through the first few corners, hold on tight!" Dorian replied.
And with it, the two-seater Valkyrie ship set off, trundling slow, but the energy packs and engine warming up. This wasn't like the old supercars that were taking celebrities around, this was a bit more....well, the real thing. An AG ship like this was one of the main selling points to VIPs after all- no point being bimbled around in something that wasn't really close to the real thing. This might not have been, but when the pit lane ended and Dorian put the throttle down, Maxine screamed.
To anyone that wasn't an AG pilot, this was like being on a rollercoaster except instead of being on wheels, it felt like being in a stunt plane at barely a meter off ground. It felt like every corner was just an insane throw, like a motorbike leaning in yet the G-forces suckering in and making it feel like the ship was being pulled in by an invisible force. Even with an anti-gravity generator in the ship, it was relentless in the corners on whoever was inside, it felt like being sucker punched, coming in and out of phase. While Dorian had been told that Maxine was fit and resilient, given she was one of the best female footballers on Earth right now, nothing prepared anyone for this. Remarkably football hadn't been hit by much in the way of augments, but then again, even if she had designer or consumer grade contents, right now she wouldn't find they would help at all.
The second lap and Maxine was still screaming because every corner would feel almost like certain death. It was acceleration that was like being fired from a gun, and through the corners, barely tapering off.
"Putain de merde!" A scream could be heard from the back as Copse came up and Dorian didn't even let off the throttle, the ship to him going pedestrian speeds relative to race day but to someone without a neural implant, going faster than they could even think humanly possible.
And with a pull into the pit lane at the end of Vale, after the adapted Stowe corner's MAG-driven coil like sequence, the ship's cooling immediately kicked in, as Maxine exhaled hard, Dorian aware she'd been shown what real speed looked like.
"You ok?"
"Wow, oh my God, that was incredible! Thank you so, so much!" Dorian heard in reply, grinning as while it was always a bit of a task with VIPs, well, Maxine was a national treasure. And this made so much reward from taking people like her out. Opening the canopy, the stairs came in as he pulled himself out of his harness and offered Maxine a hand down, somehow her guts not wanting to immediately spill like many passengers did, but instead hugging Dorian, smiling and posing for a photo, easily one of the moments of her life up until now to put on the socials. With Paul geared up, he had his own VIP to show around the track.
"Paul, find a passenger as big as a deal as Maxine, non?" Dorian chuckled, giving him a nudge as Maxine reached a hand out, helmet off, the red and blue haired 30-someting footballer, a defender by trade with tattoos across her neck and an air of absolute shithousery in her general vibe now she was actually more visible to camera. The kind of person who would be carrying drunk men out of a bar on her own, because despite the nice hair, was an absolute thug of a centre-back that led France's football team. Maxine was taller than Paul, and yet that experience had definitely reduced her a little bit.
"A pleasure to meet you, Paul, this is incredible! Thank you both for showing me around the garage!" Maxine yelled over the roaring sound of another two-seater ship going out, the whine converting into a full blown roar when it left the pit.
Friday 15th June, 2094
Silverstone, Northamptonshire, England
2030 GMT
Silverstone, Northamptonshire, England
2030 GMT
Late Shift
It had been a hell of a day.
For some pilots, they'd been up since early morning and had the constant backdrop of the festival at Silverstone, then practice where they were dialling in the ships.
One thing was for certain- Zygon had improved significantly, there was something about that ship that seemed to be on acid, and there were five teams that were easily in the fray. Some better than others, but the setups were looking optimised for a handful.
Ava sat inside Carrera Condor's pit bay looking through the telemetry, wrapped up in a very loose, almost shiny Wiphala tech hoodie and her legs on the table, glancing across the room at Bea and the other engineers on the holocall.
"Okay, that sorts that out. Thanks guys." With it, Ava peeled off the call, looking across to Bea, the discussion over the phone with the Buenos Aires-based backend engineering team that ran the simulations for each of the pilots preferences in aero, and ELS deployment sequences, and how it tied to their literal hardware in their neural link. It was more like tweaking personal preferences on a phone, but it was nice to have it set up exactly the way it was preferred.
"Mierda. This is a hell of a day. You must be exhausted?" Ava asked, knowing they were finally about done- after a day with a practice session, the festival engagement, VIP meet and greets, and everything else inbetween.
"Well, this is the life. Tomorrow tends to be easier. Fridays are always crazy. And Sundays? Well, if you put it on podium, you are getting hearing damage."
