Extreme Machine Challenge Read online

  About the Book

  You are attending the Extreme Machine Expo. Every type of fast car is on display – some are even available to test! Among the mind-boggling collection of sports cars, hovercrafts and jet planes are strange characters. Could they be secret agents?

  Will you become a pro racer, or will the machines send you spinning out of control?

  YOU CHOOSE …

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  You Choose 9: Extreme Machine Challenge

  Collect them all

  Copyright Notice

  For my friends Paul and Trudi … and their new EXTREME garage – G. I.

  Speed. You love it!

  You dream of being a professional race car driver. But anything that goes FAST is great.

  Motorcycles. Jet planes. Helicopters. Speedboats. Any chance you get, you’re watching them, reading about them and begging your parents to let you ride in them.

  Right now, you’re in a massive hall full of them!

  Your parents have bought you a ticket to the Extreme Machine Expo.

  You have just entered and are staring at the gigantic space loaded with marvellous machines, awesome accessories and exciting equipment.

  There’s so much to see and do … but where will you start?

  If you want to wander around randomly and explore, go here.

  Or you could check out the program booklet that you were handed as you entered.

  Go here.

  You wander down the first aisle. It’s full of accessories – everything from leather seat covers and car spoilers to heads-up-display sunglasses and motorcycle helmets with inbuilt windscreen wipers.

  The next aisle has food and drink. That sounds good. You are about to investigate when you notice a large sign hanging in the far corner of the exhibition centre – ‘Hovercraft’.

  If you want to go and check out the hovercraft, go here.

  If you’ d rather get something to eat and drink, go here.

  You flick open the program and begin browsing. After a couple of pages of ads, you read about the simulator trials.

  At the opposite end of the exhibition hall is an area set up with various simulators. ‘The closest thing to the real experience!’ it says in the booklet. But, due to expected interest, only one turn is allowed per person. How long your turn is depends on your skill. And, if you’re really good, you can win a prize – a ride in the real deal.

  Heart fluttering with excitement, you check the map and head straight for the simulators. There are four machines. But you can only try one. Which will you choose? There’s a long line of people waiting, so you’ve got plenty of time to decide.

  Sports Car

  You’ve played lots of racing video games, so you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to drive well and get a lengthy turn on this simulator.

  Go here.

  Motorcycle

  You’ve never played any motorcycle video games, so this would be a new experience for you. But how hard could it be?

  Go here.

  Helicopter

  You’ve played helicopter video games before, but you’ve never really got the hang of them.

  Do you want to take the risk? Go here.

  Jet Plane

  Piloting a jet would be the ultimate experience, but undoubtedly hard. Go here.

  You jump onto the motorcycle. It’s on an elevated platform, in front of a screen that curves to the sides within your peripheral vision.

  ‘Don’t forget the seatbelt,’ says the operator.

  Seatbelt? Motorcycles don’t have seatbelts. And this is just a simulator. It’s not real. Why would you need to wear one?

  ‘Suit yourself,’ says the operator. ‘But it can get a bit rough.’

  You’re not worried. You lean forward, grip the handlebars and nod your readiness. The operator switches the simulator on.

  The screen winks into life, a racetrack appearing in front of you. You cautiously put pressure on the accelerator and move forward. This doesn’t seem too hard.

  You increase your speed as you take the first corner, the bike leaning to the side. You hold on tighter and go faster.

  Your next corner doesn’t go so well. Your turning arc is too wide and you’re heading for the fence.

  You jerk the handlebars to one side, but now you’re going too far in the opposite direction. The bike heads off the track onto the gravel. Your teeth chatter as you’re shaken in the bike seat.

  You steer the motorcycle back onto the track but hit an oil slick. The bike spins out of control as you cling to it for dear life. You scream as you crash into the fence.

  The motorcycle bucks and you are thrown off.

  You smash straight through the screen.

  The operator is furious. ‘I told you to wear the seatbelt!’ he yells.

  People are gathering around, pointing and laughing at you.

  And then there are cameras aimed at you. It’s a television news crew. They have caught your entire experience.

  You brush yourself off and slink away. But, minutes later, the giant television screens positioned around the walls of the exhibition centre start showing your crash. People are pointing and laughing again.

  The rest of your day is miserable. Finally, when you get home, you think that it’s all over. But as soon as you switch on the TV, you see yourself on the news.

  ‘At today’s Extreme Machine Expo, one reckless participant was thrown from a simulator,’ says the voice over. ‘The obstinate youth had refused to use the seatbelt and paid the price.’

  Public humiliation! You desperately hope that none of your school friends saw it.

  The helicopter simulator is a seat enclosed in a large plastic crate. You hop in and close the door. There are screens where the windows should be. You grab hold of the control stick, which looks similar to a video-game joystick, and switch the game on.

  You slowly pull back on the stick and begin to rise. You are hardly off the ground when you see dozens of kites flying towards you.

  If you want to swerve away from the kites, go here.

  But do you really care about some flying toys?

  You could just go straight through them.

  Go here.

  You head for the sports car simulator and climb in. It’s like being in an actual car, except that there are screens where the windows should be. As you close the door, the screens come to life.

  You are on a racetrack. A man with a checkered flag stands on the bitumen ahead of you. You can see other cars through the windows on either side. It’s so realistic! You can feel your heartbeat quicken with excitement.

  You start the engine, revving it a few times to test it out. The other cars do the same.

  As the flag is waved, you slam the car into gear and take off. You are flattened in your seat as the tyres screech and your engine roars. You grip the steering wheel and manoeuvre your way around the track. You pull ahead of the other cars, take hairpin corners at full speed and swerve around the oil slicks. Minutes later you cross the finish line, well in front. Too easy!

  You’ve set a new record.

  You go up to the next level, a more difficult race through treacherous mountain tracks. A couple of times you come close to the edge of a cliff, but you manage to keep the car under control … and win again!

  The next track is through icy polar waste-lands. You nail it!

  The fourth race is through a desert landscape with dangerous sandstorms. Score!

  You have won all your races, managing to stay in the simulator for more than half an hour, way longer than anyone before you.

  The final track is a combinatio
n of the previous ones, and again you nail it.

  Sirens blare and lights flash as you speed across the finish line. The door opens.

  ‘Well done!’ says the operator, shaking your hand excitedly as you emerge. ‘I’ve never seen anyone drive like that! You’ve broken every record and won the Extreme Machine Simulator Challenge! We would like to award you with a special prize – the chance to drive the real prototype race car that this simulator is modelled on. It’s out on the track behind the exhibition centre.’

  He hands you a piece of paper. ‘But, as you are underage, you will need to get a parent or guardian to sign this permission form, acknowledging that it’s not our fault if you crash the car and die a horrible death during the session.’ He gives you a jovial wink.

  Your heart sinks. You’re not sure either of your parents will allow you to drive a real race car. Which of them is more likely to give you permission?

  To ring Dad and ask him, go here.

  To ring Mum and ask her, go here.

  Or maybe you could forge one of their signatures … Go here.

  You decide Dad is more likely to sign the permission form, so you ring him.

  ‘What?’ he bellows down the phone. ‘Drive a real race car on a real racetrack? That’s far too dangerous. No way, I’m not signing that!’

  You are devastated. Now what?

  If you want to forge your dad’s signature, go here.

  Or you could accept the situation and simply enjoy the rest of the Expo. Go here.

  You make your way to the ‘Hovercraft’ sign. The entire corner of the exhibition centre is roped off, enclosing an actual working hovercraft. There is a bunch of people waiting to have a ride. You join the queue.

  The machine is quite small – only a two seater and about half the size of a small car. With its inflatable sides, it looks a bit like a boat. But attached to the back is a large fan. It looks quite elegant, moving around on its cushion of air.

  The driver seems pretty young. Dressed in shorts and T-shirt, he can’t be that much older than you.

  After thirty minutes of waiting, it’s finally your turn. You get on board and the driver steers you around the roped-off area. You are amazed by how smooth and quiet the ride is. But you really wish you could have a turn of driving. It looks easy enough. There’s a steering wheel, brake and accelerator, just like a car.

  Perhaps you should ask?

  If you want to request a turn, go here.

  Or you could just sit back and enjoy the ride.

  Go here.

  You wander around the Expo. You approach a display of drones. There are three trestle tables covered in UAVs (unmanned aerial vehicles) of all sizes. You sneer as you look them over. You’ve never considered drones to be extreme machines; you’ve always thought of them as toys.

  ‘Toys!’ the man in charge of the display says, shuffling forward. He seems to have read your mind. ‘These aren’t toys.’

  He’s a weird-looking guy. He’s wearing grease-stained mechanic’s overalls and a backwards baseball cap. His face is pale with deep-set, dark eyes and eyebrows that connect in a tuft of dark hair. He looks as if he could use a good night’s sleep.

  ‘Drones are the future,’ he continues. ‘The movie industry uses them for filming, the military uses them for combat, the government uses them to spy on us. People race them, fight with them and … and do all sort of extreme, unethical things with them.’

  You cross your arms. You’re not convinced.

  ‘Take a look at this.’ The guy opens out his hand.

  You stare at it. Is that a fly? A mosquito?

  ‘No, you fool,’ the guy snaps. ‘It’s a miniature drone.’ He holds up a magnifying glass.

  You take a closer look. It’s a mechanical insect with a needle-like stinger. Why build a tiny drone with a stinger?

  ‘To assassinate people, of course.’ The guy is whispering now. ‘No one hires hit men anymore. You want someone taken care of, you get a mini drone and fill it with poison.’

  His dark eyes are gleaming.

  You think he’s quite mad and begin to back away slowly. But you trip over your own feet and fall across one of the tables. With a tremendous crash and a scattering of parts, the drones smash to the floor.

  ‘You clumsy imbecile!’ he screeches. ‘You’ll pay for this!’

  Does he mean pay as in money? Or does he mean something a little more permanent? You’re not about to stick around to find out!

  You dash off. As you weave your way through the crowd, you notice two drones flying above … following you! You speed up and head for the exit.

  Once outside, you run along the street, constantly glancing over your shoulder. People look at you strangely.

  The drones fall back. You think you’re safe, then …

  Out of nowhere a low-flying drone skimming the footpath heads straight for you. You try to jump over it but it hits your legs, tripping you up. You crash to the ground.

  You look up to see three large drones hovering above. Helpless on the footpath, you watch as they each release a water bomb.

  SPLAT!

  They burst on impact, drenching you.

  The drones fly off.

  You stagger to your feet, sad and sorry and ready to go home.

  But then you hear a tiny buzzing sound. A mosquito? Or is it a miniature drone?

  You wave your arms about hysterically, trying to shoo it away. Passers-by stare at you strangely. You think you’ve succeeded in getting whatever it is away from you, when you feel a sharp sting on your neck.

  Mosquito bite? Or poisonous drone attack?

  You scream. You run to the nearest hospital. They don’t believe your story about toxic miniature drones. But they check you anyway.

  It was just a mosquito sting …

  This time!

  You spend the rest of your life paranoid about drones and going into a panic whenever you hear a mosquito buzz.

  You climb into the jet-plane cockpit. There is a mass of complex instrumentation before you and a control stick that looks similar to a video-game joystick. There are screens instead of windows.

  You close the door and the screens light up, an airstrip appearing in front of you. You take hold of the control stick and switch on the plane’s engines. On the screens, the image jumps.

  You push forward on the stick. Nothing happens.

  You pull back. The screens pixelate, blur and then refocus.

  You jiggle the stick, but still nothing.

  Frustrated, you thump your fist into the controls.

  The screens go black.

  Seconds later the door is yanked open and an angry attendant glares in at you. He’s bald and paunchy, with a red face and bulbous nose.

  ‘What have you done?’ he demands.

  You try to explain that the simulator isn’t working.

  ‘You’ve broken it, haven’t you?’ he cries. ‘Stupid, irresponsible kid. We shouldn’t be allowing anyone under eighteen on these simulators. They’re delicate pieces of professional equipment, not toys for children to play with – and BREAK!’ He grabs you by the arm and yanks you out of the cockpit, then continues ranting. ‘That’s it, I’ve had it! I am going to make an example of you.’

  The attendant calls for security. Two burly guards arrive and throw you out of the Expo. No more extreme machines for you.

  You decide that Mum is your best bet. The only problem is that she’s working today and her office is at the other end of the city. You ring her anyway.

  You breathe a sigh of relief when she says yes. But she can’t leave work for another hour and she’ll be in a hurry. She tells you to meet her outside the exhibition centre so she can quickly sign the permission form and then get back to work.

  Rather than take the chance of missing her, you go outside to wait straight away, even though it’s still an hour before she’s due to arrive.

  You play games on your phone as you wait.

  An hour and a half later, you are s
till waiting. You begin to get worried.

  And then you get a text: Running L8. Leaving now. Soz.

  You sigh and continue to wait.

  Half an hour later another text arrives: Caught in traffic. Soz.

  Another half hour later, your phone battery dies.

  Finally, an hour later, your mum arrives. Full of apologies, she signs your permission form and rushes off.

  You race through the Expo and out to the racetrack behind it. There’s a red sports car zooming around the track. A woman in blue overalls and thick glasses, holding a monkey wrench, is watching it. You approach her and she introduces herself as the mechanic. You show her your form.

  ‘Oh,’ she says, ‘we were wondering what happened to you. Since you didn’t show up, we gave the prize to the second-best driver. He’s out on the track now.’

  What? They gave your prize away?

  ‘Don’t worry,’ says the mechanic, ‘you can have a turn as soon as he’s finished.’

  You watch the car go round the track, faster and faster, as you get more and more impatient. Finally, the car slows down and heads towards you. But wait – what’s that? There’s smoke coming from beneath the bonnet. The driver hops out of the car and pops the hood. Thick plumes belch from the engine and a puddle swells underneath.

  This show-off has broken the car!

  ‘Oh well,’ says the mechanic. ‘I guess you won’t get a turn after all.’

  You are furious.

  Do you keep your anger under control and go back to the Expo? Go here.

  Do you vent your anger by shouting at the driver? Go here.