Only 1 point after three races. This is not what I had in mind. Where do I fail? Is it because of a lack of skill? a blight of substandard equipment? a quivering resolve? a force of nature? a ploy of the Gods? Whenever I try to drive fast, I spin or I crash. So I take it easy, I let the race come to me if it will. Repetition decays into expertise. So I thought.
This is my death act. Even though I am a slow guy, a career backmarker, a privateer just here to make up the numbers... they will revere me because I give up all I am programmed to do to be an online simulation racer. No prosperity, no romance, no light at the end of the tunnel, no glorious vindication. The years have been kind. I enjoy my sacrifice.
I look up, but the stars keep their place. And I hear music, and machines, and malevolence. I cannot ignore this cacophony. One voice in my head has a simple job to do: say her name. And with the power of my futility vehicle, I sullenly curve the time and the space to confirm my false persistent belief. Now I remember, I never saw her eyes.