Driver Wanted

HUMAN RACE CAR DRIVER WANTED.

MUST SIGN WAIVER RELEASING
Braden Brad,

"GREATEST SHOWMAN IN THE KNOWN SOLAR SYSTEM,"

OF ANY LIABILITY IN CASE OF PERMANENT INJURY, DISMEMBERMENT, OR UPON THE DRIVER'S DEATH.

IF THE DRIVER SURVIVES, HE OR SHE WILL BE REWARDED A LIFETIME SUPPLY OF H2O, HIS OR HER OWN BEACHFRONT PROPERTY ON ANY OCEAN OF ONES CHOICE ON THE PLANET EARTH, AND ONE'S VERY OWN PLATINUM MINING COMPANY ON MARS.

ALL THE DRIVER HAS TO DO IS FINISH THE RACE ALIVE.

   It is an advertisement flashed across all humanoid visionary media implants, by the Khan Media Corporation, on all three major occupied celestial bodies in the Solar System, Terra, Luna, and Mars.

   Jason Harmagedon switches on his media implant, by a single mental thought, and sees the ad after his usual five minute shower in his old Japanese style cubicle apartment in the lava mining tubes on Mars, before he goes off to work.

   He has known no other life than being a miner. His father and mother were miners, and his grandfather and grandmother were miners here on Mars too!

   The pay is supposedly great for a grunt worker, but anyone with a little knowledge of the history of living on the islands of Hawaii during the Twentieth and Twenty-First Centuries will tell you, "Nothing is manufactured here." So, the cost of bringing a luxury item to Mars, or for that matter, life sustaining food which wasn't made chemically in a lab, is astronomical.

   No one is getting rich on Mars except the already rich One Per-Centers who own everything.

   Jason thinks about the offer. He then requests the detail page, of the driver's rules, with a single thought.

   The ad highlights, in blue, a link on the small fine print on the bottom of a semi-transparent page, which seems to be floating in front of him, then switches pages to display the rules.

   RULES OF THE RACE.

DRIVER WILL HAVE CUSTOMIZED ELECTRONIC FOUR WHEEL DRIVE VEHICLE, FROM THE CRITERIA OF 21st CENTURY TECHNOLOGY CARS, MANUFACTURED BY THE BRADEN BRAD DEVELOPMENT DEPARTMENT, MINUS THE SELF AUTONOMY DRIVING COMPUTER.
THE HUMAN DRIVER WILL COMPETE WITH FIVE COMPUTERIZED AUTONOMY DRIVEN VEHICLES IN A RACE TO SEE IF THE HUMAN MIND CAN BEAT ANY OF BRADEN BRAD'S 23rd CENTURY COMPUTER AUTONOMY DRIVEN CARS.
THE ONLY THREE STIPULATIONS THE HUMAN DRIVER MUST FOLLOW IS TO FINISH THE RACE, REFRAIN FROM CRASHING INTO ANOTHER VEHICLE, LIKEWISE THE OTHER VEHICLES ARE NOT ALLOWED TO CRASH INTO YOURS, AND YOU HAVE TO LIVE TO TELL THE TALE OF YOUR MIRACULOUS SURVIVAL.

   After clocking in by going through the retina scan at the opening of the mining facility, Jason goes to the grunt's locker room to look for his friend Kelly.

   "Hey Kelly," he yells across the cramped room. "I want to talk to you about something."

   "Sure buddy," Kelly replies. "Let's wait until the last transport so we can be alone when we talk. You know how gossipy miners can be."

   Alone? Jason thinks to himself.

   Grunts can't even turn off their media implants while on the premises of the mining company. Every movement, every word, and every thought is recorded in case someone takes upon themselves, the act of stealing any of the company's precious platinum.

   It was ruled by the courts of the Two Planetary Governments, way back in the 22nd century, that no one can be prosecuted for the ideas he or she has in one's head even if he or she has thoughts of murder, corporate espionage, or of theft. Psychologically, these thoughts cannot be weeded out of an individual's mind genetically. How could a writer write a fiction novel or a painter paint a horrific scene if his thoughts landed him in jail? His recorded thoughts though can be used against him, in a court of law, if he acts upon those thoughts.

   Alone?

   The only way to be truly alone is to become a one per-center. The only way to do that will be to win the race. Jason says quietly to himself.

   "What's up?" asks his friend Kelly.

   Jason explains what he wants to do.

   After the look of shock leaves Kelly's face, he says to his friend, "Are you nuts?"

   "No," Jason says calmly.

   "It's going to be a race track designed by Branden's computers, for computer racing," Kelly says, almost demeaning. "There will be rubber tires on the cars. The aerodynamics of the cars and the road surface will be designed to disturb the airflow around all the cars. The computer cars will be able to compensate instantly, while your reaction time will be slower. Besides, you have never driven a real car before."
   "I have been playing the Formula 1 vintage racing game on my virtual reality console," Jason tells him. "I will ask Mister Brad for the specs of the track I will be racing on, program it into my virtual gaming console, and practice as much as I can."
   "Didn't you listen to me?" a frustrated Kelly asks. "Your gaming console will never be able to duplicate the aerodynamics of real life. Those computerized cars will be able to come within a sixteenth of an inch, without hitting you, disturbing your airflow, so your car flies off the track. They will be able to cause you to crash without ever hitting you."
   Kelly takes a deep breath and stares at his friend, waiting for him to say something. After a few minutes of silence, he can't take it any longer and says to Jason, "You know Braden Brad has done this before. Five years ago a female driver thought that he would be lenient on her because of her gender. But he doesn't care. After the two worlds saw her in a fiery crash which killed her, his sales of his autonomy cars shot through the roof for a couple of years. You're gonna get yourself killed Jason. You know that, right?"
   All Jason could say is, "I gotta try man. I cannot live like this forever."
   Kelly shakes his head in disbelief and walks off to his work station without saying a word.

   It has been six months since Jason has signed up to race the five other computer cars. Five months of practicing his skills on his virtual gaming console and one afternoon to drive the real vehicle he will be racing.
   Today is the day.
   After countless interviews from news and sport medias, harassment from friends and strangers on social media saying he is stupid for racing, and the smug attitude from Braden Brad about how it is too late to back out now because he has signed a contract, two worlds and a moon, full of people, have tuned their media implants to watch the fiery death of one Jason Harmagedon.
   Talking to the three celestial body media at once, Braden tries to act magnanimous by saying to all the people who have tuned in, "I gave Jason the choice of the starting position on the starting grid. He wisely chose the back. He knows of course that his reaction time will be lacking compared to my computer cars. And being upfront, trying to outpace my cars will be foolish indeed. So his strategy is to start from the back, but it will be to no avail. Once my cars come up from behind him, when they are lapping him, he will find out how dynamic my Braden Brad's Autonomy Computer Cars really are. I just hope his life insurance is paid up."
   Braden laughs coldly for a moment, then continues, "Oh, that's right. He doesn't have any life insurance."
   And laughs again, harder.

   It is time for the race. The six cars line up on the grid, with Jason in the last position. There are five lights that come on, less than one second apart, red in color, then after one full second, they all turn green simultaneously and the race is on.
   First light comes on, then the second, third, fourth, fifth, and finally, after one full second, the five red lights turn green and they're off.

   Jason is barely moving from his starting position. He is going a paltry five miles an hour from the back of the grid.
   Everyone watching, and Braden Brad himself are asking themselves, "What is he doing? Is there something wrong with the car?"
   But Braden's engineers confirm that everything is OK. There is nothing wrong with Jason's vehicle.
   Time and time again, the autonomous computerized vehicles come upon Jason, as close as a sixteenth of an inch next to him, trying to either scare him into making a mistake, or disturbing the airflow in front of him, trying to cause him to crash.
   But Jason just keeps moving on slowly. Never putting his foot on the brakes or the so called gas pedal. It is an electric car of course.
   He knew, from countless trial and error on his virtual simulation that he could never race with the computers. If he wasn't traveling at a high rate of speed, disturbing the airflow in front of his vehicle wouldn't make a difference. So he keeps going five miles an hour, steering straight down the middle of the track.
   As soon as the people watching from the three celestial bodies know what he is doing, he becomes an instant folk hero.
   And after five years of fighting in the Courts to be paid his winnings from Braden Brad, our folk hero is found lounging on a beachfront property, drinking Mai Tais with his friend Kelly.

This is,

Predicting The Future,

Jim Hauenstein,

And,

"Being second is to be the first of the ones who lose."
- Ayrton Senna -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

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