Artificial

It's morning. Just as the clock hits 7am, a unique and futuristic alarm can be heard, pulsing in rhythm, emitting a sound that has been designed to recognize the brain's sleep cycles, going off only after it recognizes the end of a sleep cycle, preventing morning fatigue.

It was bright. It was majestic. Its presence filling the sky with a warm light and illuminating every detail of the land it basked its rays over. I looked up, and had to put my hand just beneath my eyes to prevent is incredible brightness from dazzling me too much.

It was beautiful.

I had only heard stories of this great light, and they had filled my nights with dreams and wonder of how it must have been to live amongst its presence. In my dreams, I would be filled with all of these fantasies, only to never find out where it came from, or why it was there; or why these rumors I'd heard filled my mind with so much wonder and curiosity.

It was at that moment, that my dream went black, as my alarm went off at 7am.

The morning was like any other. I laid in my bed for a few minutes, contemplating the week ahead. Outside my window, it was still dark, as it had always been. My room was simple. Adorned with my bed by the window, and on the other side, a desk, filled with tinkers and sketches from previous experiments. Since I was a kid, I had always had a curiosity about how things worked on the microscopic level. Now that I was in college, I had made it sort of a hobby; mainly because the stories I had heard about this mysterious light that had intrigued me so much when I was younger. After staring at the cluttered desk for a while, I had decided that spending the day in bed wasn't something I wanted to do.

I made my way to the bathroom, lazily, and I looked in the mirror, rubbing the last of my sleep out of my eyes, and I went about my morning routine. After a shower, I picked out my outfit. I checked the clock again, making sure I wasn't falling behind schedule. 7:45 am. Right on schedule. Checking the clock was second nature to us. It wasn't so much a habit, but rather, it was an instinct. It was how we grew up. It was how we were raised. It was a part of how we lived our daily lives from birth.

When we're born, each and every one of us is engrained with a chip, which enables us to tell the time numerically, without the need for a visual aid. We're taught how to use it in pre-school, and as we grow up, the idea that we have a computer chip in our brains eventually fades, to where it becomes a natural part of our thought process, although for the rest of our lives, we're always acutely aware that a part of us is, not really us.

I got back into my room, and I opened a special door. Behind it was a small room, the walls lined with warm, soothing colors, and positioned in the middle was a bed, adorned with a single pillow and lining, positioned beneath a large light hanging above that emitted a light that was specially designed to stimulate essential vitamins and minerals within our bodies. We are required to do this every day for 20 minutes to keep our skin healthy. Anyone who missed more than one week would have to go to the emergency room for Vitamin treatment. Without it, we wouldn't live very long. Of course, that was just another part of daily life for us.

In the stories I've heard, no one ever mentions anything about time. In fact, I never seem to think about it in my dreams. It never seems present. It seems natural. It was when I had my first dream about these fantasies and myths, that I started to wonder why they were so captivating to me.

The Rally.

The dirt was loose, the weather was bleak, and through my veins pulsed every ounce of blood my body contained at light speed, coursing through my hands, despite the white knuckle grip that I had bestowed upon the steering wheel. Under the hood, the power-snorting V8 engine roared as it carried me through the forest on this narrow stretch of dirt road, kicking up untold amounts of mud, dust and brush in its wake. This Land Rover was unlike any I had ever driven, and this race was unlike any I had ever competed in. In the passenger's seat my co driver accompanied me, providing insight on upcoming corners as we strived to finish the backwoods sprint as fast as physics and our minds would allow us to. This was the G4 challenge, and the stakes were high.

I had remembered at the beginning of the race what my father had told me as a child. It was a lesson that I had carried into my adulthood and to this day, it made perfect sense. Today, I was holding those words true to every corner I took with the Defender at blistering speed. My co-driver was steady with his instruction and I was anticipating each corner with great confidence.

"Left crown into 2 right sweep!" He exclaimed into the microphone, the adrenaline forcing the words out in a rushed tone and a proper volume. He had to shout to overcome the sheer volume of the powerful engine up front.

I cranked the wheel left, the sound of loose gravel and mud kicking up beneath the car, understeer threatening to put us into any one of the hundreds of trees that rushed passed us as we progressed through the sprint.

"Right sweep into 4 left crest!" He exclaimed with vigor.

As we came out of the bend, I mercilessly turned the wheel hard right, correcting the slide and putting the Land Rover back on track, a lick of over steer kicking the tail out just enough to whip our bodies against the grain of gravity and inertia. There was only a mile left.

A straight lay ahead, and as we came upon it, I pressed my foot hard down. Though the dirt and mud seemed straight and level to the naked eye, the story that the suspension told was quite the contrary. We hit dips and crests that pressed down the springs at some times, and took all four wheels off the ground at others. With my foot hard down, I continued on relentlessly, shaking all doubts I had in my driving abilities as confidence took over. Just as we neared the end of the straight and approached the tight right hander that would lead us to the finish, I turned the wheel, anticipating that I had slowed enough for the thick rally tires to find grip.

I hadn't.

I pressed hard on the brakes, careful not to lock up the wheels of this 2 ton beast as it hurled us toward a tree, rather than keeping us on the road. I only had milliseconds to react, and As the Defender seemed unresponsive to my corrective maneuvers, I turned the wheel as hard as I could to the right, hoping that it would give me a hope of at least avoiding the trunk of the massive Pine tree. I closed my eyes and braced for what I predicted would be a devastating impact.

The Land Rover leaped off the course, still sustaining enough speed to put me and my co driver through the windshield, but as we landed with a hard thud, the wheel which had been cranked to the right, gained traction and veered the truck just wide right of the tree, leaving us in the forest, still moving, the sound of thick and damaging brush banging on the under tray of the land rover, delivering engine-crippling blows as we slowed. Flashes of light came from the distance by the road from the cameras of the spectators and photographers that had witnessed the incident, assuming that we had given up. But we hadn't.

Still carrying speed through the thick and unforgiving brush, I hurled the Land Rover back round toward the track and made my way back through the brush and passed the tree that had nearly compromised our chances of winning; the only sound to warn onlookers to move coming from the ravaging V8 as it propelled us through the forest.

As I re-entered the course, me and my co driver glanced at one another, mutually agreeing that we were still physically in tact despite the battering we had taken from the rough terrain of the forest floor, and I put my foot back down. and continued toward the finish line. We hadn't won, but I knew that finishing with pride was better than not finishing at all. As the crippled Land Rover crossed the line, a steady line of applause filled the air as we came to a stop. Upon exiting the car, it had become apparent just how bad the damage was.

Two flat tires, a bent rim, a missing fender, a bent brush bar and a mucky coating of rocks and mud adorned the sides and back of the truck, turning the orange finish into a gradient brown as my gaze continued down toward the ground.

The Race

The rainy weather that had passed earlier in the race, and had slowed the cars down for most of the second half. Cars passing by left a cloud of steam in their trails, and as they rounded corners, the drivers feathered their throttles to avoid spinning out on the unforgivably tight turn and hitting the race-ending wall that lined the outside of the bend. This was the Gara di Resistenza.

 

Alex Milton found himself 5 places from the top on the last 2 laps. He’d fought hard for the lead in most of the race, but after a ruptured tire 20 laps back, getting a new one fitted following damage repairs had sent him nearly to the back of the pack. He’d spent the last 20 laps regaining his ground, and as he rounded the final corner onto the main straight coming into the final two laps, he knew that time was not his friend, and that between him and victory were 4 of the best drivers in the league; one of which he’d been rivals with since childhood.

 

His Crew Chief and coach, Jason McNulty, had been guiding him throughout the race. Their chemistry had been solid even after the tire problems they’d experienced. They knew the challenge they’d be facing coming out of the pit. The stakes were high, and as he saw Alex come down the straight, the roaring engine of the Ferrari reminded him that being in 5^th place 2 laps from the end was what got them to this point in the first place. Jason came over Alex’s radio as he crossed the start/finish line.

 

“That’s a 2:45-6 Alex, a tenth slower than your last. What’s going on?

 

“The road is still wet, and everyone is starting to play dirty.” Alex replied. “What are your ideas for getting past the 4 people ahead of me in this next lap?”

 

The cars roared toward the first corner, a medium right curve, at over 150 miles per hour. With little time to think, Milton and McNulty remembered the way they’d done this before; though they knew that the come from behind win didn’t come without a price.

 

 The accident happened 10 years ago at the same track, on lap 98 just 3 turns from the main straight. The car Milton had been driving lost grip in its rear tires, sending his car into a sideways tail spin toward the edge of the divider wall that separated the pit lane from the final turn. As he slid toward the tires at over 100 miles an hour, the drivers’ door lined up with the end of the barrier. He’d sustained back and head injuries that had kept him out of the competition for the entire following season. He was only 21 at the time, and after the accident, he’d faced the possibility of not regaining the function of his legs. Since then, Milton always had a fear of this track; a fear that would cost him this race if he let it best him. As he returned to the track throughout the following seasons, his lap times got slower, and windows of opportunity slipped away. Now though, he had a new sponsor, and with a newer, lighter, and faster car than he’d ever driven, Alex set to work preparing his next move.

 

 “Well at this rate you’ll have to make up time at more than a tenth of a second at a time. Jeremy posted a 2:45-1 just now. You know what I’m thinking?

 

“Nevada Gran Prix?” Alex said with a competitive smirk.

 

“Nevada Gran Prix baby,” replied Jason in an excited tone. “Let’s get to work. We have a lot of ground to cover and it’s going to be everything but easy.”

 

The sound of crunching metal forced Milton’s Ferrari into a screeching slide just before he shifted down for the first corner, forcing him to take action and correct; an event that forced a temporary rush of adrenaline through his body.

 

“You’re telling me,” he exclaimed. His tone was shaken, but still focused. “Bremen just tapped my rear fender, I think he wants me to move over for him; but that won’t be happening.”

 

As the pack of cars rounded the first corner, Alex bravely asserted a late braking technique that Jason taught him years back. As he concentrated, the sounds of the environment around him faded into muffled distortion, to where he retreated into a state of concentration as he performed the technique.

 

 Time seemed to slow down as Alex’s concentration lazer-focused on winning the battle at hand. In his mind, Alex analyzed the situation he was in and prepared to make his move.

 

“Target one: Paul Jessen: normal style is close and tight in the bends. This is a newer car, so he’s probably not used to it. Longer pedal gap between acceleration and braking. This is a reaction game. Brake just before the apex. Get on the gas sooner on the outside corner, and I’ll have him.”

 

The sounds of the race became louder and fiercer as Alex got up to Jessen’s outside rear fender, and prepared to pounce. As they approached the apex, Milton made his move. He shifted down just before Jessen, but because he knew the Ferrari’s limits of grip, he hit the brakes later. Paul did just as Milton predicted, and took the inside corner; and because Milton had already carried more speed into the outside corner of the bend, they came out of the bend neck and neck. A more confident foot from Alex put him on the gas just before Jessen, and no sooner, he had taken 4^th place.

 

“Jessen is down,” Alex said with a satisfied tone. “Looks like we got James Haford next.”

 

 “How’s the wet tarmac treating you?” Asked Jason.

 

“Nope, she’s holding nicely!” he replied as he prepared to confront James.

 

 “Good, now you know Haford’s style, and the only thing I know is that he’s been coming into the pits and they’ve been checking the right front suspension for most of the second half of the race. He’s probably going to be making the most out of the right hander before slowing down for the left curve. I suggest you keep a tail on him until then, and strike as soon as you see him take his foot off the throttle.”

 

Just then, a wave of confidence overcame Alex.

 

“I bet I can take him before then!”

 

Thinking that this would be a reckless move, Jason immediately confronted him.

 

“I wouldn’t try it, that sand trap is the end of your race if you lose it, and we both know Haford can be scrappy if you poke him with a stick.”

 

“I’m not worried.” Alex said as he sped up to the rear bumper of Haford’s GT3.

 

The purple Porsche ahead driven by James Haford had been behind Alex for most of the race, and they’d both been sporting battle scars from an intense 4 lap duel for 5^th earlier on. Milton had won the duel and took the lead until his tire problems arose. James continued on to hold 4^th for a majority of the second half, and as the next 2 bends approached, Alex knew that if there was any chance for retribution, it was now.

 

Again, Alex analyzed and prepared his next move.  

 

“James Haford: more conserved driving style, but a biter when he’s under pressure. He know’s im behind him, let’s pass –“ before he finished his thought, James suddenly moved toward the middle of the track in an effort to block Alex from passing, forcing him hard on the brakes, and a drop of sweat to leap from his brow.  Alex let out a resentful sigh, knowing that Jason would have said “I told you so” had he seen the maneuver. Alex regained his confidence and concentrated on his next move.

 

“Haford’s suspension problems will slow him down just enough on this left curve for me to make it past. He’ll be taking the outside corner. Brake hard, dive in and floor it out. Easy.”

 

As they approached the medium left curve, James Shifted down as Jason had predicted, and he was slowing in caution of the right front suspension problems he’d been encountering. Alex kept his foot down, and dove in beside Haford on the outside corner and entered neck and neck. Alex put his faith in the ferocious grip of the Ferrari and dove to the inside corner, a cloud of wet steam enveloping the track behind. He shifted down another gear and as he floored it, torque slide at the exit of the corner alarmed him only slightly. Not too much sooner, Jason McNulty came over his radio.

 

 “So how was Haford?” he asked. Alex replied in a crimped tone.

 

 “Yeah yeah, you were right, this time. But it looks like Matt Wietner is next, and the chicane is coming up. I think I know what to do here.”

 

“He’s lighter on fuel than you, so you might have to push him a little to get him out of the way.

 

Alex belted down the rear straight in third place, foot hard down, and gaining speed rapidly. The V8 produced a beautifully deafening roar as it tore past the checkpoint mark and caught him up to the nose of Matt Weitner’s McClaren. He began to work out the situation.

 

“His 4 wheel drive is keeping me in the weeds coming in. He’s lighter on fuel so that will allow him to brake at the exact same time as I do. Strategy: Keep foot down until 25 meters. Brake hard in and shift down to second. He’ll be in third, but second gear might allow me to get away with less damage coming out. I know he won’t just give me the outside.”

 

As the apex came into sight, Alex darted to the outside corner, and braced himself for impact. He would be aiming for the outside corner coming out of the chicane, but he knew that the only way that would happen, would be at a cost. He heard Matt shift down; the braking contest had begun. As they hooked left, they shifted down again; Weitner into third, and Alex down into second. As they hooked right, Alex mashed the gas pedal and shifted back up, and inevitably, fighting for the position, Matt followed suit, and soon found himself understeering wide, straight at Alex’s right side.

 

Just then, a violent jolt and the sound of screeching rubber sent the Ferrari’s two left wheels into the sand just off the exit corner of the chicane, and the sound of pummeling rocks and dirt combined with the insatiable tire squeal from the struggling racer nearly sent both of them into a spin. Soon thereafter, Alex found the grip he needed, and as the track straightened, he shifted up, and used the torque from his Ferrari to squeeze ahead of Weitner.

 

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought, but my car took a bit of a hit. I’m alive though.” Alex said to Jason.

 

“That’s good to hear Alex.” He replied. “Next and last, we have our favorite person.”

 

“ Davis.”

 

Jason: Jeremy, fuckin’, Davis. At that last checkpoint before the chicane was only two tenths ahead, but now there’s almost a full second, and you’re gaining on him fast. You’ve got 4 corners to decide this one.

 

“This is all too familiar. Davis vs Milton, just like Nevada.” Alex thought to himself as he caught up to Weitner.

 

Alex assessed the final leg of the race. He knew that if he wanted to catch Jeremy Davis, let alone pass him, he had to beat him out of the last corner onto the main straight. Davis had the best sponsor at the race, and the fastest car. He’d been Alex’s main rival ever since they could drive go karts, and the perils of this race meant that a pole positon was very much at stake. Alex closed in on Jeremy coming into the next corner, and despite the understanding Alex had developed of Davis’s driving style over the years, he had not been able to read his moves clearly today. He’d kept everyone on their toes.

 

 “He’s been getting a little complacent with being in the lead for so long.” James suggested. “Maybe you can play him into the final corner and take it on the inside edge; that’s really all I can say at this point.”

 

“I know how to handle it,” Alex replied. “It’s not like this thing hasn’t taken a few hits already.” He said, referring to the damaged 458 he was driving.

 

He dove to the inside corner coming into the first of the 4 turns left in this lap. He shifted into second, forcing the engine to over-rev and shoot a flare of blue flame out of the exhaust pipes, producing a noise similar to that of a rifle’s discharge. As the corner approached, Jeremy Davis suddenly took a dive inside as he shifted down. Upon swiping in to over-take Alex for the lead as they clipped the apex, the rear bumper of Jeremy’s car met with the front of Alex’s car with a violent crunch of metal and plastic, producing debris and the sound of squealing tires as the drivers attempted to re-gain control of their cars.

 

The next three turns seemed to take their toll on the drivers and their cars, as Alex and Jeremy vigorously fought to take the lead on the final lap. This race meant everything to Alex, and he reminded himself of the humiliation of defeat he’d be left with if he backed down. With each corner came more fierce competition, and with that, each car sustained yet more damage as he and Davis bumped their way through the bends onto the main straight and onto the final lap.

 

This was it. This was Alex’s time to move, and there wasn’t a second to waste.

 

Coming into the final lap, Alex and Jeremy tore down the main straight at blistering speeds, their competition a ferocious demonstration of aggressiveness, speed, and agility. Their engines filled the air around them with a thunderous roar, exciting the massive audience that observed the two cars as they hurdled and scraped against one another as they went across the finish line. Jeremy was not going down easy, and they both knew that this lap wouldn't be a clean one. Victory was one lap away, and both of them could taste it.

 

Alex felt a violent jolt as Jeremy shoved his car into his coming off of the straight, producing the unmistakable sound of scraping metal as each car sustained more and more battle wounds.

Jeremy was playing dirty, and Alex, ready to respond, prepared to nudge Jeremy until he heard an alarming rattling sound from one of his wheel wells.

 

“Something is loose after that one” Alex said to Jason

 

“Yeah I saw that from the pit, can you tell me what happened?” replied Jason.

 

After investigating, Alex discovered that a hub bearing had broken loose, which meant that at any moment, the wheel could separate itself from the rest of the car, resulting in a horrific wreck if he took a turn to quickly.

 

Jeremy, keen on his braking ability, continued to accelerate into the right hand bend as Alex, progressed toward the bend less aggressively than he'd planned, wary of his weak tire. If he was going to win, he had to be patient, smart, and unrelenting in his pursuit of victory. Alex wisely let Jeremy win the battle off the main straight. After, he set to work. 

 

"My wheel is loose again", Alex said nervously to James over the radio, "I'm not sure how much longer she's gonna hold"

This moment reminded Alex of the tire problems that he’d experienced earlier in the race. He felt the wind start to leave his sails as his confidence levels dropped. Jason then came over the radio.

 

"Just trust yourself and your car", Mcnulty replied defiantly. "You've come this far, Alex. Don't give up now"

 

He was right. If he wanted to win, he had to give it his all on this last lap; even if his car did wreck.

 

As they came out of the first bend, a menacing look overcame Alex's face. His stomach tingled with a combination of excitement, fear, and determination, and as the loose wheel squeaked and hissed with every right turn, he shifted down And mashed his foot to the floor; the Ferrari's engine letting out a loud grunt as he shifted gears.

 

The next turn approached; a sharp left hander. Inches separated the back bumper of Jeremy's Porsche from the scarred front bumper of Alex's Ferrari. The rest of the race followed suit a couple seconds behind, but none of the other 28 drivers mattered, as everyone's attention was glued to the battle taking place at the front of the pack.

 

 Every eye within the crowd watched with lip biting fear as Alex hoisted the Ferrari into the corner, taking Jeremy on the outside. The wall on the outer corner of the turn came within inches of Alex's side as Jeremy fought relentlessly to shut the door on him. Both drivers shifted down as they exited the bend; Alex's rear driver side wheel nipping the dirt as Jeremy continued to push him to the outside. The rain had stopped, leaving the track covered in a slippery coat of water, making the task of gaining grip in most corners questionable at best for both drivers.

 

They left a cloud of steam in their wake as they belted down the nest part of the track, a series of high speed chicane like twists that required just enough concentration to allow for full speed acceleration, but that were curved enough to still test the grip of the drivers as they raced down the stretch of road. 

 

Alex and Jeremy continued to fight their way down the track, still bumping and scraping as they came into the sharp right hander neck and neck. As Alex sped toward the entry of the turn, he put his foot to the floor and ignored the wall that awaited him if the damaged tire were to fail. Both drivers raced into the corner much faster than they had done in previous laps, tires screeching as their engines over revved from sudden downshifts in their attempt to slow down in time to make it out of the bend. As Alex turned into the right hander, he felt his rear end lose grip, and before he knew it, his car was in a sideways slide.

 

 Adrenaline kicked in, and he grabbed the steering wheel and combated the over steer as he jabbed left trying to regain control and maintain his lead over Jeremy as they approached the exit. The wall was approaching fast, but Alex refused to brace. Instead he let off the throttle and shifted down another gear, forcing the tires to find their grip. 

 

Alex put his foot down and kept his car straight and true as they exited the corner. He took the lead and pushed in just in front of a displeased Jeremy. He had to stay relentless, even in the face of inevitable danger. The drone coming from the damaged tire was considerably louder than it had been at the start of the lap, and the bearing that held the wheel onto the car was now just hanging by a thread. Both he and Jason knew that t wouldn't hold much longer, and there was still half a lap to cover. This didn't faze Alex, however, as he continued on with the same relentless determination.

 

“I will not lose this,” Alex said to himself. “I can’t lose it. Not now.”

 

The two rivals continued to fight relentlessly through the bends as they fought for the lead. Mcnulty checked in with Alex as the race continued.

 

"How's it going out there? He asked.

 

"Nothing I can't handle," Alex replied as he quickly traced his gaze down to the wheel well below his feet. "It'll be a miracle if this holds till the end,” he said to himself.

 

As they began the last half of the race, Alex reminded himself of why he was here. His traumatic experience had brought him down before, and now, his car threatened to deliver the same fate. He’d been fearless this entire race, despite the issues he’d been having. Jeremy had been equally as relentless, as he knew that if he didn’t win, his contract would be on the line. Both drivers had much at stake personally, and for that reason, they fought tenaciously for the lead.

 

The next bend approached; a medium left curve. Alex breathed a little as he knew that there wouldn’t be much strain on the damaged wheel. He sped toward the bend with Jeremy following suit, mirroring Alex’s every move while riding his rear bumper. He was waiting for an opportunity; an opportunity that Alex would not surrender. As he slowed and downshifted, Alex dove to the inside, and to his surprise, he felt that his brakes weren’t working as effectively; however, it wasn’t mechanical. Jeremy grinded his front end onto the back of the Ferrari, and was push-drafting as they went in. A concentrated maneuver turned into a wet steam cloud of squealing tires as Alex’s Ferrari began to power slide into the bend. He quickly reacted by countersteering; but overcorrection lead Alex into a dangerous tank-slapper. His concentration was broken, and as he felt the Ferrari lose grip and go into a spin, he thought that this was it. The race was over; but just as his car went for the grass, Alex remembered a technique that Jason had taught him, and he acted quickly.

 

A flick of counter steer, and a feathered throttle enabled Alex to regain control of his car as he exited the corner, forcing him to kick up a substantial amount of dirt as his two left wheels left the tarmac. He was in control, but not without giving up the lead.

 

Jeremy had begun to play dirty; a tactic he’d used ever since they were young rivals on karts.

 

“He’s being a bastard!” Alex exclaimed over the radio. “Damn near spun me out!”

 

“Did you expect him to play nice?” Jason replied

 

“No, I didn’t, but I also didn’t think he’d try to push me off the track.” Alex replied. “He’ll pay for that one.”

 

As they crossed the half-way checkpoint, Jeremy had gained two seconds on Alex. They continued to fight and trade paint as they completed the next series of bends. Alex was being cautious, however, as he nursed his car through, catching up to Jeremy, while nursing the war-wounded Ferrari, his sore wheel aching through each bend with a nasty hiss.

 

He had to catch him before they went into the final turn, which was coming up fast. Just then, a loud pinging noise came from the front of the Ferrari. The hub bearing was failing, and with two turns to go, Alex became nervous. He knew he couldn’t lose, but he also knew that any harder driving meant that the Ferrari wouldn’t see the end of the race. But he remembered that this was the Gara di Resistenza, the race he’d wanted to win ever since he’d come up short many years before. He put his foot to the floor, and replaced his fear with careful recklessness as he caught up to Jeremy. His concentration levels rose, and he drowned out every distraction he could think of. The next two bends would become a test of his determination, fortitude, and courage.

 

Jason’s voice came into Alex’s earphone. “Alex, you have to be careful, that wheel is done – Alex…..ALEX!!!”

 

There was no response. Alex had his eyes on the back of Jeremy’s Porsche. The next-to-last bend was a blind hill. He floored it and pursued the Apex with every ounce of vigor the Ferrari could deliver.

 

As they came up the hill, Alex fast-approached the Porsche. He knew that Jeremy wasn’t good a blind hills. He knew that he would slow down sooner than him. He prepared to make his move to the inside, knowing that Jeremy would be there to meet him. With a look of determination, Alex took to the inside, and as he did, Jeremy dove in in front of him; but he underestimated the distance as Alex clipped Jeremy’s back bumper, initiating sporadic tire squeal as Jeremy was forced to correct the spin.

 

As they exited the bend neck and neck, Alex knew that the next left hander could make or break the Ferrari – literally.

 

“I have to give it everything on this short straight” Alex said to himself.

 

This was it. This was victory; and as Alex inched in front of Jeremy, he floored it, and the Ferrari took off. The last corner approached, and Jeremy was right behind Alex. Every move had to be perfect. Every turn had to be calculated. Every thought that raced through Alex’s mind was filled with the fear of his car failing, and of the sweet valor of victory that lay a quarter of a mile ahead.

 

He was relentless, determined, and as he went into the last turn, he gave the Ferrari a push with the gas pedal, and threw the clutch into second. This, however, proved to be a shock to the race car. As he went into second, another loud grinding noise echoed in the cabin. The clutch was jammed in 3^rd. .

 

All hope went grim, and the wind had seemingly been taken out of his sails. The main straight approached, and with a jammed clutch and no way to shift up, Alex’s only chance was to fight off Jeremy on the main straight, and hope that the Ferrari could hold enough speed to catch the finish line before him; but Alex didn’t realize that Jeremy had issues of his own to contend with.

 

As they exited the turn, the two relentless racers were neck and neck. The main straight was in their sights, but as they went wide, Jeremy took to the outside to try and carry enough speed to overtake Alex.

 

He was going too fast. The Porsche hit the outside Apex, and before he could get it back onto the track, the right wheels of Jeremy’s car hit the wet grass, and as he lost speed and tried to compensate, a flick of the wheel sent the gripless race car into a spin.

 

Jason, along with Alex’s family and friends saw the incident on the monitors in the pit, and as Jeremy spun, they let out a cry of joy. The race was Alex’s to win as he tore down the main straight toward the finish line. The crowd was cheering wildly, and as he crossed the line, the black and white checkered flag waved him into the winner’s circle.

 

“Holy shit you did it!” Exclaimed Jason over the radio, the shouts of joy and encouragement from family and friends filling the background.

 

Alex pumped his fist out of his window as he slowed the battle-scarred Ferrari down and came into the pit. He was speechless. The Gara di Resitenza, a 10 hour test of courage, durability, endurance, and concentration, had ended, and Alex Milton held the gold as he drove to the winner’s circle, still with a clutch jammed in second, and with a still hissing tire.

 

The rainy mist that had filled the air for most of the race had dissipated, and as the race official announced Alex’s victory, he handed him the trophy. As he held it up on a decorated podium in front of a cheering audience snapping away at their cameras and putting microphones up to his face, the sun peaked out from behind the gray clouds, bathing the still soaked track in a warm glow, and reflecting dew off of the grass and track. Alex walked back to the pits where he was greeted by his family. His first win since his last injury on the same track had put an air of sentimental joy into the family that greeted him with tears of relief.

 

“I knew you could do it” said Jason as he embraced Alex. “Fear is all in your head, and today, you proved that it has no place there.”

 

“I don’t know what to say, really. I’m just glad to be alive!” Alex replied, still in awe of the race he’d fought so hard to win.

 

The race was over; the crowds were dispersing, and as he looked back at the still wet track, the setting sun over the horizon of the main straight still echoed with one of the best and most memorable finishes in Alex’s career.

 

He had won.

Daily Free-Verse # 4: Creativity

The sun parts the clouds

Waves on the shore

Another cup of coffee

Pack another for more

Inspiration.


The sketchbook is filled

A foundation for some ideas

A graveyard for others

Make shapes with clouds

Persistence can be inferred

However, not perceived

Innovation.


Sip leisurely from the fountain of youth

Hydrate your work

Fermented ideas

Turn into fine wine

Change your perspective

Or your state of mind

Creativity.

Thoughts: The post college job hunt

For everyone like me who's recently walked across the stage and received their ticket to life, you know what I mean when I say this:

It's here.

For the past 4 to 5 years of your life, you've been making your way through the halls, classrooms, books, and basement parties that college life consists of. You studied diligently, procrastinated, and slaved over 25 page papers, 600 page books, and piles, upon piles of flashcards. your memory still tingles about with that one semi-interesting fact you learned in your philosophy class, and despite taking several years of a foreign language, most of you still speak it pretty loosely. But there was always that one big goal; that one big dream that underneath the late nights, early mornings, and the hangovers that we were always working toward, and now, it's your time to show the world what the past 4 years have taught you. Sounds like a pretty easy transition, until you take a look at the numbers for recent grads coming out of college, such as you and me.

For starters, a lot of us don't exactly go into the field working in an area that we spent the last 4 years and over 100 grand studying and educating ourselves on. In fact, according to an article on The Huffington Post regarding post graduation, half of all recent grads go into the work field working a job that doesn't even require a degree. That doesn't mean that students aren't getting jobs eventually though.

Though current unemployment rates aren't terrible, it's not like students are landing positions right away. Most graduates that began their job hunt months before graduation are still on the market searching, and according to most that I've spoken with personally, it can take anywhere from 8 months to a year and a half before that expensive degree gets put to any relevant use for most. Which brings me to my next and main point: the job hunt.

If you've listened to your advisor, good for you. For most, you began your job hunt early on, and now, you're starting to figure out why that might have been the single most important piece of advice you could have ever received. If you're like me, you followed those orders to start sifting through every employment site you could find, and you've been applying for every single position you could find. At first, the challenge doesn't seem that daunting. You'd sent out a few applications a week, and hearing back from only 1 or 2 companies out of the 10 applications you'd sent out wasn't so much of a burden, but then, something came over the horizon that has since started to trouble you more and more: time.

Months have passed, and though you're interviewing and continually filling out apps, the job hunt doesn't show any signs of coming to an end. The stress levels have elevated, and you've become weary of the relentless search you'd confidently set out on months prior. This is an especially stressful time, but I'm here to say something that will add some perspective and widen the tunnel vision you've been experiencing recently: It's not all that bad.

If you think about it, post graduation job hunting isn't as bad as it seems when you consider every other fact of life you're facing as a recent graduate. For one, you don't have to spend your nights at the library, waste deep in notes and online activities as you prepare for that exam that for some reason is rumored to be incredibly daunting, despite it being an elective. You can actually get some sleep for once, and above all else, you don't have to worry about "homework" any more. You've got more free time on your hands, and in all honesty, this transition period has been sort of a relief from the past 4 years of your life. See? Not terrible. Sure, there are other drawbacks, such as the worry of student loans, for example; not to mention, if you're passionate like I am, rather than taking a breath and relaxing, you're more so filled with a sense of boredom and unproductiveness. I know that makes me seem a bit tight, but if there's one thing I have a passion for, it's writing, and being able to do something like change the world through my creativity is something that I've dreamed of while playing with legos and filling countless sketchbooks with my thoughts growing up.

My point is, you should be congratulating yourself for making it through college. Though the job hunt is still on for many of us, it's important to remember that it's just that: a job. You still have family that loves you, and you still have friends that are going to play clever pranks on you after you've had one to many at the bar. Life is still going, and once you learn how to channel the stress of job searching into positive and motivational energy, it becomes a little easier to deal with. Life may have opened a new chapter for you, but you're still the one with the pen in hand who is charged with writing it. So do yourself a favor, sit back, and reflect on all the positives of where you're at right now, and think about what the college experience has taught you about yourself and the world you live in. At this point, stress is your enemy, and, in all honesty, in order to truly defeat it, you have to continue to live your life to the fullest. And that is my driving point behind the struggles and attributes of the post-college job hunt.

--Cheers, and happy reading!

The Train Station - Part 2

As the man pondered his next move, a force of tranquility overcame him. It was like the sultry voice of thought had entered his roller coaster of thoughts and made itself comfortable in the front row. His nervousness subsided, and as he took a deep breath, he knew that this awkward moment between the two wouldn't be alleviated by merely standing stationary. He turned and casually approached the girl, and scrambled the first thought that came into his mind of what to say.

"That looks like a lot of luggage for you to be carrying around", he said as he came to a stop on the platform; a slight smile taking his lip.

"Yeah, but I think I'm managing pretty well so far" she reciprocated. "I just hope this train gets here in time" she continued.

He chuckled slightly. "That makes two of us"

"Yeah, I suppose it does. Where are you headed?" She asked.

"San Francisco" She replied, "What brings you to Union Station

"Chicago; nothing special."

"What do you mean nothing special? Chicago's the second best city in the world; right behind the big apple, of course. Come on, indulge me, why the Windy City?"

The man knew why he had been going to Chicago. His family was there, and the real story behind why he had to make the journey was something that he felt might put a damper on her already seemingly distressed day. On this, he knew that he had to keep it short and sweet.

"I'm just seeing the family, and doing a little sight seeing. I haven't been there in a few years." He replied to her.

"Sounds like they'll be looking forward to seeing you, being that it's been a while", she said.

He let out a small passive chuckle as he responded.

"Yeah, I'm sure they'll be thrilled" he said; a slight glaze overcoming his eyes. "Care to tell me why you have so much luggage? Seems like your trip is more than just a vacation."

"Yeah, I'm going out there for a while. I have a friend that I'm staying with", she replied in a slightly solemn tone

"Mind if I ask why?"

"I just needed a get away, and I figured, what better place than on the completely opposite end of the country?" she explained. "Haven't you ever just wanted to get away, from everything?"

He looked down to avoid giving her a tell that would open the gates to the river of thoughts flowing through his mind upon hearing that question. He refocused the conversation on her. 

"The greatest city in the world doesn't seem so great to you from what I'm hearing."

She focused her eyes directly on his, as her seemingly distressed complexion was fighting back a smile that was pushing its way to the front, eventually enveloping her lips for a few short seconds, followed by a light sigh of humor.

"It has its ups, but it also has its downs."

Before she could continue, the unmistakable rumble of an approaching train shook the platform beneath their feet. A train horn played three short bursts, and the familiar sound of the ringing bells filled the tunnel as the passenger train made its way into the station with the screeches and groans of the breaks bringing the train to a slow stop. The doors opened, and just like that, the rapid flow of the city above broke the silence of the platform, now filled with a plethora of passengers, most rushing to their next train, and trying to gather their baggage. It looked like an organized chaos, and as he looked back at her, he could see her boarding the train.

"What cabin are you going to?" He asked hastily.

"I'm going to second class" she replied. "Come by later if you'd like. Train rides are pretty boring."

"I might take you up on that -- what's your name?"

"Sarah; what's yours?"

"Brennan."

The Train Station - Part 1

It was a day like any other in the heart of New York City's Grand Central Station. The halls were filled with the echoes of conversation, and the occasional sound of a train making its way through to pick up the next round of riders to take them on their way. The faint smell of copper and marble filled the air with a trademark scent that brought back the illustrious history of this great land mark with each breath.

On the platform, a young dapper gentleman talked on his phone while he waited for his train to arrive. As he paced about, discussing business and other things, he looked to the end of the platform impatiently to check for the familiar site of headlights approaching. After no such success, he panned his vision over to the scheduling board. 15 minutes late. As he began to think about whether or not it should be a crime for a train to be this late, he turned and faced the turnstiles which seemed to have an ever-lasting flow of passengers entering and exiting in a hurried pace. It was at this point that something wonderful happened.

As he pondered his limited options, a woman caught his eye as she made her way down the stairs. She was a beautiful creature, with a long, brunette flow, beautiful creamy skin, and a captivating smile that was accompanied by entrancing brown eyes. To him, she was perfect, and suddenly, the delay became irrelevant to the man as he looked as if she was an angel making her way down from heaven.

She had three very full bags, and as she approached the platform, he immediately adored her as he watched her throw everything down with what he thought was the most beautiful face of frustration he had ever seen. As he saw her look up after checking her phone, he broke his gaze so she wouldn't notice him looking. She hadn't noticed him staring until she took a glance down the tunnel, much like he did, with no success. In a way he thought he was being clever, he turned himself and waited for her gaze to return to her phone; only he had under-estimated the time that this would take, as when he looked her way once again, she was staring right back at him.

Just then, a feeling with the force of a thousand hammers landed on his chest, and he could feel his heart skip a beat. They quickly broke their gaze, and soon after a powerful silence took him over, accompanied by a million thoughts that he was not sure how to handle. The moment seemed original, but awkward simultaneously. As he stared at the home screen of his phone, he pondered his next move.