Page 39 of Speed Crush

Now they know—it wasn’t a global broadcast or a highlight reel. Just a real-time feed from the simulation room next door inside Mega Max. Real enough to fool a room full of seasoned auto journalists.

Gasps ripple through the room, followed by a burst of applause that rolls like a sudden downpour. Phones lift. Reporters scramble to reframe their angles. Even the camp kids look like they’ve just witnessed a magic trick.

Someone near the back whistles low. “No way that was a sim,” a voice mutters, half-laughing. Another chimes in—“That was insane.”

I glance over at the pair, Zeke and Dash, both wearing press badges and that familiar influencer smirk. One’s holding a GoPro on a selfie stick. The other’s got a gimbal, scanning the room like it’s already content.

Content creators, not motorsport press.

Still, I nod.

“Make sure you guys take a turn on the sim later.”

Dash’s eyebrows lift. “Seriously?”

“Of course,” I say. “Just don’t expect to match my time though.”

They laugh like they’ve already won.

The sound of shuffling notes, camera shutters, and murmured questions rises like static—buzzing with curiosity, disbelief, and something close to awe.

Dante’s gaze sweeps the crowd. His voice cuts clean through the energy in the room—steady, grounded, undeniable. “You just watched Noah Verelli on that screen—driving live inside the world’s most advanced simulator, right here at Mega Max."

Dante scans the crowd, letting the weight of recognition settle in their eyes before he continues. “At Fagioli, this is how we train our drivers. And now, we’re partnering with Cedar Falls to extend that same level of intensity, precision, and opportunity to a new generation. This isn’t a thrill ride. It’s how we find the fearless. How we push the gifted. The ones who can hold a line under pressure, even when no one’s watching.”

Applause breaks out across the room—claps, whistles, and excited murmurs erupting in the conference room. Cameras flash. Reporters scribble. For a moment, the energy crackles like a pit lane right before lights out.

I step up beside Dante and take the mic. "This simulator wasn’t just built for show. It’s what I use to stay sharp in the off-season. And now, thanks to the Fagioli team, Cedar Falls gets to be part of that edge."

The overhead screen flickers to life again, replaying the lap I just ran from a driver’s point of view—every shift, every corner, every breath.

I gesture toward it, letting my words land. “This is our newest simulator—now available right here at Mega Max.”

I step off the stage and move toward the front row where the camp kids are sitting—still in their Mega Max t-shirts, some wide-eyed, some trying to play it cool, but all of them watching.

I look into their eyes. “So, are you ready to live out a moment as an F1 driver?”

The hush is instant. That collective inhale of attention.

This is the part I live for.

Not the press. Not the buzz.

The spark—the quiet ignition in a kid’s eyes when fantasy collides with possibility.

The moment they realize this isn’t a fantasy. That it’s real, and it’s reachable.

I watch them—these older kids whom I’ve been working with all week at camp, now leaning forward, eyes wide. Some with fire already in their bones, others just starting to believe.

I clear my throat and hop back on the stage. “Simulators like this are usually top secret in F1—locked down, private, off-limits. But today, we’re sharing it. Because we believe the sport should be more accessible, more inspiring, and more real. And we’re not worried about the tech—because the Fagioli team is always innovating.”

I pause, let the silence carry.

“The next generation of talent starts here. With you guys. And trust me—every tenth of a second counts.”

A ripple of laughter and excited applause follow as I step off the stage. Dash, the influencer, calls out, "You’re smoother with a wheel than a mic, Verelli!"

I flash her a grin. “That’s fair. I let the lap do the talking.”

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