In the massive, circular briefing hall of the Interstellar Racing Corp's branch, over fifty young graduates gathered. Soft blue lights washed over their faces, adding to the tense, excited feeling that filled the air. Holographic displays lined the walls, showing flight paths weaving around a huge asteroid belt that looked close enough to touch.
Oliver sat quietly in a corner, his eyes scanning the crowd of competitors. The room buzzed with whispers and laughter, but he felt strangely alone. His friend Kid was beside him, practically vibrating with excitement, rubbing his hands together as he imagined the prize.
"Five hundred credits!" Kid whispered, his voice brimming with energy. "All we have to do is finish the race, and we score big!"
Oliver nodded, a faint smile on his face. He didn't show it like Kid, but he knew just how important this money was. Since graduating, job offers had been hard to find, and this race might be their only chance for some financial relief. Memories of his parents' exhausted faces and the stack of job rejections he'd received pushed a wave of determination through him.
"Yeah, it's a good chance," he replied, though his eyes lingered on the holographic asteroid belt, stretching out like an impossible barrier.
Just then, a figure appeared in the hologram—Red Peach Three. She wore a perfectly tailored black suit, looking calm and commanding. Her presence brought an instant hush, and the room's tension thickened.
"Welcome, everyone," she began, her voice clear and strong. "Today, twenty of you will be chosen for a challenge like no other—flying through the asteroid belt. It's high-risk, but the rewards are just as high. If you finish, you'll each get two hundred credits, and if you qualify in the top twenty, you'll earn an extra five hundred."
A wave of shocked whispers rippled through the crowd. This was way more than they'd expected. For fresh graduates like them, that kind of money could cover a big part of living expenses.
Red Peach Three continued, "We're looking for only the best pilots for a real race. Mr. Fu believes that money can solve most problems. Now it's up to you to prove you deserve it."
As her words faded, one of the graduates stood up, his voice cutting through the room. "This doesn't add up! Most races charge an entry fee, and only the top finishers win big prizes, thanks to betting. Is this even legal? I've heard about events like this—some have smuggling deals behind them."
The room froze, every eye turning to the speaker. His words seemed to puncture the excitement, letting doubt seep in. Oliver felt his own buried worries rising.
Red Peach Three stayed calm, as if expecting the question. "You've all heard of Mr. Fu, I'm sure. He's one of the planet's richest heirs. He owns part of this racing club and hosts these competitions every quarter with friends. If you compete, you'll get a look at their world. For them, this is just a bit of fun—and you're part of that. As for smuggling," she paused, giving a small smile, "that's a story for the uninformed."
Most of the graduates relaxed, but Oliver's doubts only deepened. Sometimes, the calmest answers hid the biggest secrets. But right now, he didn't have much choice.
Red Peach Three scanned the crowd, her voice steady. "Get ready. We'll start the simulation trials to pick the final twenty racers."
Oliver and Kid suited up and stepped into their assigned simulation pods. The cockpits were dark and cramped, control lights blinking across the panel. Oliver's pulse quickened as the countdown began, his palms starting to sweat. He took a deep breath to steady himself.
"I can't mess this up," he whispered, determination sparking in his eyes.
The ship's engine hummed to life, vibrating through his seat. The holo-screen flickered, and the course appeared—a blur of rocks and obstacles. Oliver gripped the controls, feeling the ship's slight tremor, a mix of excitement and nerves churning inside him.
"Mechanized Mind, activate." Concentrating, he linked his awareness to the ship's systems, feeling every tremor, every surge of energy within the thrusters, every shift in balance. The ship became like an extension of himself, each data flash and pulse giving him instant feedback. He couldn't keep this connection going for long, though—there were limits to his ability.
The race started, and his ship shot forward, weaving through the asteroid field. Light flashed as he flew, dodging around every obstacle, each turn demanding intense focus and lightning-fast reflexes. Shadows of rocks skimmed over the hull, each one a close call he couldn't ignore.
Oliver focused, syncing with the ship, his Mechanized Mind pushing him to react faster than most pilots. At one point, he sensed a hidden rock on his left and adjusted just in time, skimming by with barely a breath to spare.
"This is mad!" Kid's voice crackled through the comms, full of excitement.
But things weren't all smooth. Oliver's dashboard blinked with overheating warnings, and the alarm shrieked through the cockpit. He knew pushing his Mechanized Mind too hard would drain him and strain the ship's systems. He had to be careful.
"Stay calm, stay focused," he murmured, taking a breath, pulling back from the ship's systems to rely on his own instincts for a while.
The asteroid field tightened. He yanked the joystick, twisting through a tight gap that would have ended the race for anyone else. His heart pounded, adrenaline pumping through him, but there was no time to think about it.
"Almost there," he told himself, glancing at the distance marker. Just a little more.
After a tense hour, Oliver finally broke through the simulated asteroid belt. He sagged in his seat, lungs heaving as sweat trickled down his forehead.
The pod door opened, and he stepped into the bright light outside. Kid was already there, practically jumping with excitement.
"You smashed it, mate! I knew you'd crush it!" Kid grinned, pulling him into a rough hug.
Oliver managed a tired smile, relief flooding over him. Despite not being the top pilot, his focus and the help of his Mechanized Mind had earned him a spot—seventeenth place.
"Congrats to those who made it," Red Peach Three's voice boomed over the PA. "Your credits have been transferred. Rest here tonight; tomorrow, we head to the real race."
Oliver checked his comm, and sure enough, his account balance had gone up by seven hundred credits. He felt a thrill of pride.
But later, as he sat by his window at home, looking out over the city lights and neon glow, he couldn't shake a nagging feeling that something was off. Just today, they'd thrown around nearly thirty thousand credits like pocket change. To the wealthy, maybe money really didn't mean a thing.
He sighed, muttering, "Guess I'm in too deep now." Out in the night sky, a meteor streaked through the darkness. Oliver clenched his fists, his resolve strengthening.
"Whatever it takes, I'm giving it everything I've got."