An Apartment, Shield Community, the First City, the Nexus Wardship of Former Citizens of the Nimbus System
12th of JuneA middle-aged man with blond hair, shaven face and deep green eyes opens the door and is greeted with three individuals smiling pleasantly at him.
The one on the left carries a hopeful if somewhat shy expression. Somewhat tall, her wide black and amber orbs practically plead with him to help. The other two have a more determined, if still open - less so in the right one’s case - bearing to them.
“Ah… Can I help you?”
“You can!” The central one, shorter, with a visage akin to his own, answers. “We were wondering if you could help us with an investigation of ours… Mind if we come in?”
The man steps back, confusion running across his face. “I suppose… Could I ask who you are?”
“Tiffany Vallanite, Victoria Light and Alex Sanderson.” The one to the right - Alex - mutters something under his breath; Tiffany, the one to the left (according to Alex’s motioning, anyway), glances towards him, offering something between a sympathetic smile and a giggle. “We’re from Nexus Racing; the programming team.”
“Oh, you are? Cool!” The man nods enthusiastically, offering his hand to be shaken by each in turn. “I’m Germaine Umbra.” He chuckles. “I don’t do anything as interesting as you; I’m a Terrarail attendant.”
The two on the right raise their eyebrows and quickly gain knowing grins as the third gasps in delight. “Really? Oh, but that’s not boring at all!” Tiffany surges forward, practically levitating in excitement. “I
love the Terrarail! Do you have any timetables that I could see?”
“I mean, sure!” Germaine looks perhaps a touch surprised; mostly, however, he seems happy. “Oh, I’m keeping you all out here; come on.” He beckons the team in from the corridor, leading them through to a mid-sized kitchen/dining room with a small sofa and television screen. “Sit down, please.”
“If it’s alright with you, we are on a bit of a tight schedule…” Victoria smiles apologetically. “We’d just like to ask for your help, that’s all.”
“Sure! Ask away.”
“Well, you know about…” The blonde-haired woman winces, putting her hand to her head, closing her eyes. The pause stretches out for a couple of seconds before Tiffany goes to her side, wrapping her in a hug.
Alex speaks in her place. “You might recall Jean Mercer-Daly’s crash two months ago.”
Germaine’s expression turns serious. “Oh, yeah, that was bad, wasn’t it? I couldn’t find a single media outlet that didn’t mention it. I can’t imagine what it was like to be in his position, the way the shields didn’t activa-” The man blinks. “Oh. Oh, goodness. I - I’m sorry.”
Alex shakes his head decisively, his hand curled into a fist - atop which seems to rest some sort of shoebox… “Don’t be. We’re working to find the person responsible, which is where we need your help.”
“I’ve geolocated the proxy server through which the hacker was operating. Turns out it’s right across the street from here - and whoever owns it didn’t bother to invest in anything to block the windows. No clue why.” He raises the box. “Your window is a perfect place to film straight through to the machinery itself. With your permission, then, we’ll set up this camera and take footage of it. Then, if anything further happens, we’ll know.”
The man frowns. “That’s legal?”
“We checked.”
“Huh. Well, I suppose so… I mean, if it’s to help catch this person, sure.” Germaine frowns, then nods his head. “Yeah, okay. Go for it.”
Tiffany smiles one of her radiant smiles even as Alex moves towards the windowsill and kneels down, taking everything out to put in place. “Thank you so much; that’s a huge help.” Victoria, now a little calmer, nods in agreement.
“Well, if I
can help… Why not just get the police involved?”
Tiffany continues to smile. “Don’t worry; they are. We offered to help how we can, though, and they thought that we could help with this early part. They are busy people.”
Germaine raises his eyebrows, chuckling. “I suppose! That’s good of you.”
Tiffany’s blush is spared by Alex arriving at that moment. On the window now sits a camera upon an adjustable stand, miniature solar panel sticking up from the top. “Well, that’s done. Victoria?”
Nexus Racing’s Head Programmer nods. “Yeah… Yeah, I guess we’re finished. Let’s get back to headquarters.” She looks up at the apartment’s owner, weak smile on her face. “Thanks, Germaine. We owe you.”
“Actually…” Tiffany bites her lip, eyes shifting from her leader to her boyfriend. “Could I stay for a bit? If that’s okay with you, of course!” she adds quickly to Germaine. “I’d… I’d just like to talk about -”
The man laughs. “Certainly, if you’d like! I’ve got some maps here if you’d like to see them.”
Tiffany’s eyes gleam and, for the first time in the meeting, Victoria genuinely grins. “Oh, go on then, stay. We’ve got plenty done today anyway.”
Nexus Racing HQ, Crossbay Circuit, Nimbus Bay, the Nexus Wardship of Former Citizens of the Nimbus System
2nd of AugustTimothy Guard obliges, clapping his hands together in one of his characteristic quirks. “Wondrous! In that case, while you -” he points with both hands at Auburn - “render the document in print, the rest of us can head to our respective stations.” He stands from the table and, with a gently-grinning nod, leads the Abovian contingent to the door, instinctively reaching for the handle - only for the pluri-folding panel that makes up the divider to smoothly and entirely automatically glide away into the reel alongside it, concealed within a cuboidal covering painted to resemble the rest of the wall.
Ah, these ones have been replaced now, haven’t they? It oughtn’t be too long before all of the others are done; in fact, I believe that the technicians said that the work would be complete by the twelfth. Excellent.After giving another nod, this one of acknowledgement and mental archiving, Nexus Racing’s Project Manager strides through the doorframe and continues striding down the corridors of the team’s headquarters, all the way to a certain door. Guard stops just short of it, turning with a patient upturning of the lips to wait for the others to reinforce him - for he has covered the ground purposefully - and then, when they have arrived, pivots back to the door and lets it open before him.
Thus, the inner sanctum is revealed.
On one wall, a practical whiteboard details a list of projects, arranged by priority and denoted with cheerful symbols representing individual team members, colour-coded for areas of specialism; in the corner between two others lies a table above which is projected a translucent blue hologram of something box-like and internally complex. Lining all of them are dozens of desks, some immaculately ordered, laptops and tablets neatly stowed, tools placed in neat rows and parts gathered in boxes, while others look the picture of organised chaos. ‘Organised chaos’, indeed, might well describe the room’s occupants, some moving about from place to place; some talking with each other in arcane language; some feverishly - or calmly - assembling, disassembling or reassembling various parts and mechanisms; some tapping or typing away at devices; and some just sitting down to think hard or mutter about things. Nexus Racing’s garage bustles.
And, at the centre of it all…
Timothy looks askance at Janne, searching for his reaction, and chuckles upon witnessing it. “Well, that will be all from me for today.” As if on cue, a short, brown-haired man of a seemingly quiet disposition walks up to the group and waits, hand behind his back. “Edvin, Terho, you’ll be going with Martin, here, to see our race tracking and communication set-up. Everything is in the garage; we don’t locate our nerve centre on the pit wall, so you needn’t worry about being rained on. Meanwhile, you, Janne…”
As the others depart Guard scans the room, searching for something or, indeed, for someone. And, seemingly, that someone arrives; a figure dressed in Nexus Racing’s sky blue and holding up a pair of racing overalls in the same colour dodges through one of the doors before it has a chance to fully open and speeds towards them. Timothy sighs in an almost fatherly way, then smiles. “You will be going with -”
“Sorry!” The newcomer, apparently on the technical side of things based on his garb, leans over, panting for breath in an almost comical way. “Gertrude and Lucia were both busy, so I had to fill in last min-”
Guard shakes his head, paternal smile still on his face. “Worry not, Virgil. I know.” He turns back to the Abovian driver. “Janne, this is Virgil. He’ll be explaining the Chase Cutter to you; after that, you’ll have a chance to go out onto Crossbay Circuit and drive it for yourself. Virgil -”
“Janne Laukannen, right? From Aboveland?” Virgil looks up, grinning. “Good to meet ‘ya. Shall we go?”
The two head walk into the garage, closing with and finally coming to Janne’s car. Sleek and grey, its livery is clearly simple - this is, after all, a prototype - but it still carries personal touches. On either side printed text is mirrored; where there is Common Script, otherwise known the Latin alphabet, on one side for the general public there are Higher Script glyphs on the other, denoting the team’s uniquely Nimban nature. More apparent, however, is Janne’s name; his chosen number, sixteen, in the colours of the Abovian flag; the banner itself emblazoned below the Nimban ensign on the air intake.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Virgil crosses his arms, smirking. “Most advanced car in the WGPC. You lucky thing. So,” he says, walking around the car, “this is the Ultra High Speed Ground Vehicle Three ‘Competitive Testing Prototype’.” He makes air quotes with his fingers on those last three words. “Don’t call it that, though. It’s the UHSGV 2.5. Easier to remember.”
“Not its actual name, though! You could at least call it ‘Chase Cutter’!”
“Yes, I know, Shana!” Virgil calls back. “I swear… Right, where was I? Okay. First things first: power.” He slaps the side panel of the vehicle. “In here is our Paragon Warp Imagination convertor array. It consumes Imagination -” he waves his hand - “it’s the substance that powers our cars, you don’t need to know much yet other than that it makes the whole thing glow blue - and converts it into energy. Three parts to it, each of which does a different thing.”
“The first is the static Imagikinetic convertor. That pushes the car forwards. No wheels involved; it just applies a forward force throughout the car. Simple as. The second,” he continues, somewhat confusingly raising a finger, “is the
dynamic Imagikinetic convertor.” Virgil points to the car’s nose, at the centre point of the two wheels. “In there we’ve got an indicator aligned with whichever way the wheels are pointing. The second convertor applies force in the direction of that indicator. You turn the steering wheel, you’ve changed the direction of the force. Most of the time those two act in concert, so, if we have to turn one off for some reason, we’ll be turning off the other too. More relevantly, though, there’s no worrying about torque curves or gear changing or anything like that; just use the power when you need it.”
“The last part is the Imagielectric convertor. That converts Imagination to electricity, which then goes to four motors, each of which drives a wheel. Only part of the array that does and, well, it does make it a little more like a regular car to drive. Still got that instant torque, though.” Virgil gives a smile, then somehow gestures to the car’s entire body. “We’ve also got photovoltaic paint all across the car now, so there’s a bit more oomph there. My idea, that one. And there’s also the standard kinetic energy recovery stuff going on, so that too.”
“The final Imagination convertor in the car isn’t actually part of the array - but, well, it’s all in the same block. It’s an Imagithermal convertor and it basically regulates the temperature of the wheels for you. No need to heat the tyres on the formation lap for you, so, if there’s a habit there, you might want to break it.”
“Right, that’s that covered… Let’s get onto support systems. Most important is probably the Mass Aerodynamic Reconfiguration System. Basically, a ton of the car’s body surfaces are divided into panels that automatically adjust themselves based on what you’re doing with the car and the environment around it. Imagine the DRS that a lot of teams have got and apply it to the entire car, across the entire lap. Air-braking into the corners, less drag on the straights, that sort of thing.”
“Then we have the fan.” Virgil grins at that. “Yes, this is a fan car. Specifically, there’s a cross-flow fan just behind where you’ll be sitting. It’s pretty cool.”
He drums his hands on his thighs. “Let’s see, I’ve said… Right, next would be all the driver aids. First, the ‘Comprehensive Suspension and Traction Computer Control System’. Automatically adjusts power input, wheel alignment and camber, suspension and so on to make sure that you’re going where you want to be going. Then there’s the PA-AS. End result? Automated race starts.” Virgil chuckles at that one. “First mid-season addition that we ever made to the car and it hasn’t let us down once - the other half of our famous ‘off-line advantage’. And finally…”
Virgil holds up the suit that he’s been carrying in one hand, adorned, among other things, with the stylised depiction of the Imagination Nexus that is his team’s logo. “This is your RMEO. Thankfully doesn’t turn you into a sectionalist Veronese youth; it
does have thousands of body heat-powered nanomotors woven into the fabric that’ll respond to and reinforce your movements. Given how Marika Pedanovic said it made her feel literally divine when she was here, I’d imagine that it’s good for making sharp turns.”
“Should probably let you know about the Imagination convertors assigned to safety, too.” Virgil grimaces at that.” We’ve got three. The IASG protects the car by locking the air around it in place before a crash; the IRASSU protects you by getting rid of the energy of random shrapnel before it hits; and the ISISU literally holds the car together. That last helps with things like mechanical failure as well.”
“Now… You’ve probably heard all about last season and Mercer-Daly’s crash. Bit of reassurance, in case you don’t already know: that was a hacker, who got into the convertors through our computer network and hijacked them.” He sighs. “Standard practice is now to have two separate networks, one for the car and anything affecting it and another for everything else. Makes data management a nightmare but it’s keeping you guys safer, so…” Virgil shrugs. “Well, that’s what we’ve done.”
He claps his hands together, as if to bring the topic to a close. “Speaking of data… The last thing would be inputs and information.” He reaches forward into the cockpit, decoupling the steering wheel from its mounting point, then shows it to him; for all of Nexus Racing’s technology its car’s primary interface is remarkably analogue, lacking any screen at all in favour of numbered and coloured buttons and dials - and fewer of those, indeed, than on many others of its ilk. “This is your steering wheel. Right now it’s in factory state; one of the people from programming’ll come and talk you through customising all of the twiddly bits later. Probably the more important thing, though…”
Virgil grins. “Well, let’s just say that we made a copy of your helmet for you and it’s got an upgrade. First of all, there’s an Imagikinetic convertor that we’ve got set up to synchronise the air in front of your ear and the mouth of whoever’s talking to you and vice versa. Instant communication; no latency involved. Secondly: two small projectors built into the helmet’s inside, one on each side of the visor. All of the information that you’ll need’ll be projected right onto it for you; more than that, the design’s modular, so it can be customised however you’d like. More than that, though -” and here Virgil’s grin widens - “we’ve got a supercomputer here analysing every driver’s lines and modelling their behaviour to predict where they’ll go at any given moment. That information goes straight to you; projected right onto the helmet with everything else.”
He waits for that bombshell to fully process. “So, yeah. That’s waiting for you in the changing room.” He points: “First door off the corridor down there. Unless you’ve got questions… Well, your guys should be finishing on their side soon. You can go to get ready and get out on track.”