Alive

By: Aviantei

21 mph


The thing is only a simulator, but it still operates best when you have a piloting suit on. Alexander, Jan, and Dew all have the wrong body type for me to fit into any of their gear, but occasionally some of the team techs need to step into the things to do maintenance work, so they have their own equipment that's far less intensive than an actual IG suit, but it gets the job done. And since one of the techs happens to be around my size, I get one of their spares to use.

"You did ask for permission for this, right?" I ask for like the fifth time, raising my voice loud enough to be heard through the door as I change. Velshtein has a changing room way too big for three people, and Alexander is waiting for me outside. "Like I'm not gonna have someone wonder what the hell I'm doing with their clothes, right?"

"If you're feeling sick, Kirsten, I can take you back home." I throw one of my tennis shoes at the door, bringing out a satisfying slam; just because I don't want to cause trouble doesn't mean I'm sick. Alexander chuckles, the sound muffled, but still bright. "Come on, relax. I went through the whole process of making sure we could use the equipment and other things from everyone involved. You think Sir Hamgra would have let me into the building if I hadn't?"

"I think it's fucking weird that you all call him 'sir' like it's perfectly normal." Done with changing, I ball up my street clothes and leave them aside, skipping over my own shoe as I step out of the door. Adjusting my ponytail, I turn to Alexander. "But you make a fair point. Where do I sign the waver that says anything that goes wrong today is your fault and I'm innocent?"

Alexander laughs again and gestures for me to follow him over to the simulator. "I know better than that. How's the gear feel?"

"Close enough." I tug at the sleeve, which is a bit too short for my arms, but everything else feels fine. Rather than some obnoxious tight fit, things are a bit loose, like wearing a familiar track suit. It's not as complex as the full racing suits—those have all sorts of protections in them to help cushion against the kind of damage that can happen when you're using a giant robot to pummel the crap out of other robots—but it does have all the right sensors for monitoring performance. I'm pretty sure it's even the same red as the team's own mech suits, but I haven't gotten a good color glimpse at it yet. Alexander, however, hasn't changed at all. "You didn't want to do matchies with me? I'm offended."

Stepping up to the simulator, Alexander leans over the opening, adjusting who knows what. "Since I'm the only person here to do monitoring, I'm gonna have to pass on riding with you today. Go ahead, take a seat."

Without too many other options, I do as he says. The seat isn't as comfortable as the one in his car, but it's got plenty of cushioning, and it feels similar to the actual cockpit in Alexander's mech. Unable to resist the temptation, I grab onto the controls, not even the gloves of the practice suit able to erase the utter thrill that courses through me. And this is just the simulator. What's it like for Alexander when he gets in his mech, about to head out on the course for a race?

"I can't believe you had the audacity to be bored when doing this all day is your job," I say under my breath.

"Thankfully, I don't have that problem anymore." I only catch a glimpse of Alexander's mirthless smile before he adjusts as best he can to lean against the side of the simulator, looking over my position. "Not a bad grip for a rookie, but you really want to get your wrist at this angle. It's easier to move that way." He doesn't even hesitate to reach out for my hands, adjusting them just so before pulling back, leaving me to get a feel for things on my own. "Much better. Okay, let's talk basic controls. When you press forward…"

And just like that, I'm in a tutorial for how to pilot a mech. Some thing I've heard of, since I did do my due research and all into the idea before giving up on joining the IG leagues, but that was ages ago, and memory hasn't been on my side. Alexander's stupid genius side is in full swing, too, and he doesn't miss a beat in his instructions—or maybe that's because of the strict standards of his training? Either way, I'm too busy trying to keep up to complain about how fast he's going, and the pounding of my heart from adrenaline doesn't seem like it'll let up anytime soon.

"...and then these switches are what swap you in and out of speed mode. But we'll mess with that after you get the basics down." I run my fingers over the buttons on the handles without pressing down on them, trying to remember where everything is. Alexander stands up straight and stretches his arms out before shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Congrats, you've just completed the first lesson in rookie training 101."

I release my pent up breath, but the tension is nowhere near gone from my shoulders, even though I know better. I urge my muscles to calm down as a sink back into the pilot seat. "How many other lessons are there?"

"That depends on how far you wanna go. With mech updates and new IG regulations, there's always something new to figure out." He gives me a broad smile, and I don't think I've seen him look so pleased; for all his boredom issues, he seriously does love the IGPX. "But in your case, this should be enough to get you started. What do ya say, Kirsten? Want to go for a ride?"

"Is that even a real question?" It's just a dumb simulator. I should not be this damn excited. But I'm ecstatic anyways, and I grip onto the controls, paying attention to the angle of my hands, just like Alexander taught me. "Let's roll, Captain."

Alexander turns away and crosses the room before I can see his reaction, and then the hatch is closing down. The consoles light up the would be darkness, though it's still dimmer than the fully illuminated room outside. My eyes don't have much time to adjust, as the screen lights up before me, showing a simulated image of the IGPX track, in such pristine quality that it looks real. Yeah, the IG racing games at the arcades have nothing on this. I still agree that it would've been a hassle to get into the leagues, but fuck I've been missing out.

"Alright," Alexander's voice says through the mock cockpit's speaker systems. I just have it set up for basic controls, so no challenge scenarios or anything." I think I remember him mentioning something about training against AI opponents before. Probably not something that I can handle, though it sounds ridiculously fun. "Have at it, Kirsten. I'll monitor you from here."

The adrenaline is still burning through me, and I hum more to myself than in response. I go over the crash course in controls one more time in my head before I push on the handle, urging the mech forward. Right away, the camera starts moving and I can feel the faint shakes in the simulator, imitating the movements of a mech walking, the massive steps slow but powerful. What's it like when you're walking out onto the track, knowing that thousands of people are watching you, that the thrill of the race is ahead.

"Yeah, I'm extra pissed off that you get to do this for a living," I mutter, half in jest. Whatever mic I have in there is enough for Alexander to hear even my quiet words, and he laughs in response.

"Forgive me?"

"Only 'cause being your friend has such great perks."

As much as I can feel my body sparking, walking isn't enough. It takes me a moment to find the right setting to toggle, but then the simulation swaps the mech into race mode, and my next push on the accelerator sends the image of the track ahead of me flashing by in a blur. I can hardly make out the road, let alone the rest of the simulated surroundings. And with five other mechs on the track at any time, it's a wonder pilots aren't constantly crashing into each other, especially when they're racing to be number one, to go faster

I'm not exactly sure what, but I push something in the controls just the wrong way, and next thing I know the image is flipping, the simulator shaking from the virtual impact of my rather spectacular crash. I get bumped around a bit, but the cockpit is just the right amount of padded to prevent what might have been a rather nasty injury on the actual track.

"Ah, man," Alexander says, not even his manners keeping the laughter out from his voice, "been a while since I've seen anyone go so hard on the throttle even the simulator won't keep them balanced. That seriously takes me back."

"You weren't a genius from the start? I want my money back."

"No need for a refund. Jan and Dew were the ones that got ahead of themselves. I was a stellar pilot from day one."

"Show off." I snort, taking a moment to stretch my arms out as best I can in the space. The image of the sky on the screen above me is an amazing desert blue. "Is there a trick to getting this thing back up, or can you just handle that from your end?"

"Technically I can handle it, but you'll be wasting good practice if you don't do it yourself," Alexander says, his tone a blend of amusement and fondness. I wonder what sort of face he's making. "Then again, that's up to you how you wanna handle it."

All things considered, I shouldn't be worrying much about learning how to make a mech stand up from a fall when I likely won't ever have a practical use for that knowledge. But I'm also the type to push every experience to the fullest, and I don't want to waste a single chance I have.

"Alexander, I'm planning on stealing all your piloting secrets. Tell me how."

And somehow sounding just as enthusiastic as I am, Alexander answers.


Before I know it, several hours have passed, and when Alexander pulls me out of the simulator, it's way past the time for lunch. At this point, we might as well call whatever we eat next dinner, really. My stomach rumbles for food, and I didn't even notice thanks to the friendly buzz of excitement radiating throughout every cell.

Compared to what IG1 pilots pull off, I didn't learn anything impressive. Basic piloting. How not to make the mech fall over every five seconds because of excessive enthusiasm on my part. Getting the positions right for swapping in and out of speed mode. Avoiding nausea from the rush of speed around obstacles like the hills and loops. Nothing even close to combat controls or simulated clashes with opponents.

But it was still unmistakably…fun.

"I know repeating the same thing over and over probably isn't the most fun thing in the world for you, but we can come and use the equipment whenever you like, so long as I have the day off," Alexander says, leading the way back to his car. He presses the key fob as an awkward expression falls over his face. "Well, Sir Hamgra probably won't like it during the season, but until then, we can come here together. It was… Well, this was the best I could come up with when it came to surprising you." He pauses, both in speech and stride, and I raise an eyebrow, indulging in the rare sight of watching him fumble over his words. "How was it?"

I look at him, brilliant green eyes, tousled brown hair, the faintest red coloring of embarrassment creeping across his neck. If he could see what I see, he'd know the answer, but without that option, we need to exchange words.

"You pass for today," I say, smacking his back and taking the lead towards the exit. "Be sure to give me a good show next time, too."


[Author's Notes]

I distinctly remember while writing this chapter I was in the middle of screaming a lot because I was getting close to a plot point that I'd been planning forever but I wasn't there yet. It's those sorts of moments that make you itch to write more, if I'm being wholly honest. So know that you have that to look forward to in the coming chapters! Meanwhile, I'll just be screaming about all my feelings about Promare...

Next chapter, next week! Though we won't be in spooky season mode for this story, we'll still be on a roll, so please look forward to it!

-Avi

[09.23.2019]