Extreme Machine Challenge

by George Ivanoff

  You know you shouldn’t do it … but you do. With a nervous, shaking hand, you forge your dad’s signature on the permission form and head out the back of the exhibition centre.

  There’s a red race car parked next to the track. It’s sleek and streamlined and low to the ground, with a massive spoiler on the back like wings. It gleams in the sun.

  It’s a dream come true! You approach it.

  A little man with a computer tablet pops up from behind the car. He is wearing a dark suit with a bow tie, as well as a red crash helmet and massive goggles.

  ‘Permission form?’ he says in a clipped and officious tone, holding out his hand.

  You tentatively pass him the form. He checks it over, scans it with the tablet and hands it back to you.

  ‘Just have to wait for the data to transfer to main office,’ he says, tapping on his gadget. The tablet pings. ‘Okie dokie, all good.’ He points to the car. ‘Let’s go.’

  He’s coming with you?

  ‘Oh, most definitely yes,’ says the man. ‘This car is worth a fortune. There’s no way I’m letting an underage driver take it out without supervision. My name is Race Pacer. You can call me Mr Pacer. Now, get in the car. You have five minutes and your time starts now.’ He taps his tablet again.

  Only five minutes! You’d better not waste any time.

  You jump into the driver’s seat, Mr Pacer getting in beside you. The dashboard looks like the flight controls of an aeroplane. This is way more complicated than you expected. Mr Pacer presses a button and a rounded glass roof slides into place, encasing the two of you in the car.

  ‘You can ignore most of the controls,’ instructs Mr Pacer. ‘Just drive it like you would normally.’

  The key is in the ignition, so you start the car. The engine turns over, growling like a tiger. A little thrill of excitement runs up your spine. You put the car into gear and head out onto the track.

  ‘Four minutes left,’ says Mr Pacer.

  Four minutes. You’d better make the most of this.

  You take a deep breath, slam the car into high gear and stomp on the accelerator. The car streaks off along the track and you can’t help letting loose a cheer of exhilaration.

  ‘Are you insane?!’ shouts Mr Pacer. ‘Slow down!’

  To follow Mr Pacer’s instruction and reduce your speed, go here.

  But if you want to ignore him and make the most of your remaining time, go here.

  You sit back and leave things to the driver.

  A minute later, a toddler climbs under the rope barrier. The driver stops the hovercraft, hops out and runs over to escort the child to safety.

  You’re left sitting alone in the hovercraft.

  If you’ d like to sneak in a quick drive while the driver is away, go here.

  If you’ d prefer to play it safe and wait for the driver to return, go here.

  You ask the driver if you can have a turn at steering.

  ‘Well …’ The driver looks from one side to the other. ‘The boss isn’t around. So … what the hey. Why not?’

  Seriously? You didn’t actually expect him to say yes!

  ‘Just don’t touch any of those controls.’ He indicates the dashboard. ‘I’m not sure what most of them do.’

  You swap places and steer the contraption around.

  All is going well until a toddler climbs under the rope barrier.

  ‘Watch out!’ The driver reaches over and yanks the steering wheel to one side. The hovercraft lurches to avoid the child, but you lose your balance and knock into the dashboard controls.

  With an extraordinary burst of speed, the hovercraft crashes through the barrier and zooms off into the Expo crowd.

  The driver is thrown from the seat. He really should have been wearing a seatbelt. Luckily, he grasps the top of the rear fan casing and manages to hold on.

  You step on the brake but nothing happens. All you can do is steer, trying hard not to knock anyone down. The crowd parts before you, people running and throwing themselves out of the way. You knock over a display of ball bearings, and the little metal marbles scatter across the floor, causing people to trip and fall.

  You continue to smash through display stand after display stand, wreaking complete havoc.

  What can you do?

  You really only have one option – you’ve got to try the dashboard controls. Maybe there’s a button or switch that will stop the runaway hovercraft. But which one? None of them are labelled.

  To pull the large lever, go here.

  To flick the little red switch, go here.

  You head down the ‘Food and Drink’ aisle, which is full of displays of sports drinks and energy foods. And there are FREE SAMPLES!

  You join the queue at the first stand. ‘All-natural extreme-energy superfood snack bar,’ says the sign.

  There’s a guy with bulging muscles in shorts and a singlet giving out bite-sized pieces from a silver tray with a dainty set of tongs. He drops a sample into your outstretched hand and says, ‘Enjoy’ in a squeaky voice that sounds like it belongs to Mickey Mouse rather than a body builder.

  You pop the food into your mouth and bite down.

  YUCK!

  It is the most disgusting taste imaginable. It makes you think of minced slugs, dog vomit and sheep guts. You feel like puking.

  Do you want to get an energy drink sample to wash away the taste? You’ll have to wait in line. Go here.

  Or you could just run to the toilets and throw up. Go here.

  You can’t contain your anger. You march up to the driver and start yelling at him, calling him an idiot and berating his driving.

  He yells back at you, his face beetroot-red. He waves his arms about furiously, accidentally knocking the monkey wrench from the mechanic’s grasp.

  The monkey wrench strikes the side of the car. As well as the screech of metal on metal, a tiny spark flashes. It hits the puddle of liquid spreading under the automobile. What could that be? Water? Oil? Then you realise …

  Is it petrol?

  KABOOM!

  Your suspicions are confirmed as flames engulf the car. You, the mechanic and the driver are caught in the explosion … all because you couldn’t control your temper!

  You decide to ignore Mr Pacer and increase your speed.

  You are going so fast that you’re pushed back into your seat, your surroundings a blur as you fly around the track.

  This. Is. AWESOME!

  Until Mr Pacer starts shrieking at you. ‘You forfeit the rest of your time. Stop this car immediately! Get out!’

  You continue to drive, foot pressing even harder on the accelerator.

  ‘Let me out of here,’ demands Mr Pacer, leaning across and grabbing the steering wheel.

  The two of you wrestle for control of the car.

  With a screech of tyres, the car goes into a spin, crashing through the fence and careening across the gravel towards another fence. You slam on the brakes … but not fast enough.

  The car skids across the ground, through the fence and onto another track …

  Right in the middle of a Monster Car Mash-up!

  Huge cars with gigantic wheels and monstrous faces painted onto their bonnets are racing around the track, smashing into one another.

  Your car grinds to a halt.

  ‘You are in serious trouble,’ blusters Mr Pacer.

  Yes, you are – but not the kind of trouble that Mr Pacer intends.

  An enormous monster car is headed straight for you. You fumble with the ignition, but can’t get your engine to start. You look at the controls, trying to work out which one pulls back the roof.

  But it’s too late.

  The monster car rolls right over you, the gigantic wheels crushing the race car. Glass shatters, metal tears … yet somehow you survive, squished in amongst the twisted wreckage.

  Your sigh of relief is cut short by two more monster cars charging at you from opposite directions. Each has a massive bullbar bigger than your entire car.
/>   You close your eyes as they converge.

  SMASH!

  You wait patiently for the driver to return. When he gets back, you spend another few minutes cruising around on the hovercraft before it’s time to let the next person have a turn.

  You hop off.

  Go here.

  You don’t want to get into trouble, so you follow Mr Pacer’s instruction and slow down … just a little.

  ‘I do not want you to exceed eighty kilometres per hour,’ says Mr Pacer. ‘Please remember that you are not a race car driver, you are just some kid who won a competition.’

  You continue around the track at a steady 80 kph. Two laps later, Mr Pacer announces: ‘Your time is up. Please pull over.’

  You head for the side of the track.

  ‘Not there!’ shouts Mr Pacer. ‘In the parking bay.’

  You quickly move back out onto the track. But you are distracted and hit an oil slick. As your car skids out of control you slam on the brakes – but this just puts you into a spin. Your heart thumps like crazy and your throat goes dry.

  ‘Use the stabiliser control!’ yells Mr Pacer.

  You stab at the control panel, but in your panic you miss the stabiliser and hit the passenger eject instead.

  The glass roof slides back and with a bang Mr Pacer and his seat are launched into the air.

  As the car finally spins to a stop, you look up to see Mr Pacer soaring into the sky. A parachute springs out from the back of his seat. It looks like he’s going to land a fair distance away. Should you go and get him?

  If you want to drive the car out of the stadium to fetch Mr Pacer, go here.

  But now that he’s gone, you could take the opportunity for another lap around the track? Go here.

  You flick the little red switch.

  Instantly, the power is cut and the hovercraft comes to a dead stop.

  But your relief is short-lived. The stop is so sudden that the driver, who has been hanging on to the fan casing, is flung into the hovercraft, smashing into the dashboard controls. Sparks fly. Smoke belches out. And the hovercraft takes off again, faster than ever. There’s nothing you or the driver can do except cling on for dear life.

  The vehicle zooms out of the exhibition centre and onto the city streets. It is completely out of control, crashing into cars and knocking over pedestrians. It streaks into a supermarket, slamming into shelves and sending breakfast cereals flying.

  By the time you’re back on the streets, there is a fleet of police cars, sirens blaring, giving chase.

  You head along the road towards the docks. You zoom past waterside cafes and onto a pier … then off the end of it.

  SPLASH!

  You’re skimming across the water, out to sea.

  Three hours later, the hovercraft finally stops.

  ‘Like, wow!’ says the driver. ‘That was awesome! Way more exciting than driving around the Expo.’

  But now what? You are in the middle of nowhere, no land in sight.

  ‘We just sit tight,’ says the driver. ‘Someone’s bound to come to our rescue sooner or later.’

  As you look over the edge of the hovercraft and see shark fins cutting through the water, you hope that it’s sooner.

  You slip into the driver’s seat. Now, which control gets it moving again? Well, the lever kind of looks like a handbrake …

  You pull the lever and the hovercraft surges forward with an incredible burst of speed.

  You scream in surprise.

  The driver screams at you to stop.

  The onlookers scream as they jump out of your way.

  You smash through the barrier and crash through a display of fragile model aeroplanes before careening into an old-fashioned race car – a restored canary-yellow Edwardian roadster.

  The hovercraft stops. The rear fan creaks, snaps off and clunks to the floor. The wreckage of the roadster lies strewn around the wreckage of the hovercraft. Luckily, you are unharmed.

  You look up to see the angry owner of the Edwardian roadster (dressed in a frock coat and cape), the livid hovercraft driver and the furious model aeroplane attendant stalking towards you.

  You caused all this destruction, so you really should face the consequences.

  To stay and apologise, go here.

  Or you could run away. Go here.

  You run for the toilets. There are only two unisex cubicles … and there are people waiting ahead of you.

  You wait in line, trying desperately to hold back the puke.

  Finally, it’s your turn. But it’s too late. As you open the door, vomit gushes from your mouth and spurts out through your nose. Spew splashes across the floor and down your front.

  Well, at least you can clean up in the toilets. But in your rush to get to the taps, you slip in your own barf and fall into the regurgitated mess.

  You are so soaked in your own chunder that you really have no option but to leave the Expo and go home to shower and change.

  Your extreme machine challenge has turned into an extreme regurgitation experience.

  You go and wait in line at the nearest energy-drink stand. The horrible taste is still in your mouth and you are having a hard time holding back the vomit.

  The stand opposite you is closed, the display tables covered in sheets. But behind the tables you see a man in a white lab coat hand a glass of water to a woman in a black trench coat.

  You gag, but manage to hold in the puke. You can’t wait much longer.

  If you want to remain in line for the sports drink, go here.

  Or you could just take that glass of water.

  Go here.

  You start the car again. But you notice a woman in blue overalls and thick glasses, holding a monkey wrench, running towards you. You wait.

  It’s the mechanic. You explain to her what happened. You have no option but to get out of the car so she can go and retrieve Mr Pacer.

  As the car zooms off, you see someone walking towards you. It’s a young boy wearing an Extreme Machine Expo T-shirt … and an evil grin.

  He approaches and holds up a copy of your permission form.

  ‘My mum runs the Expo and makes me help her in the main office.’ His voice is whiny and annoying. ‘Mr Pacer emailed a copy of your permission form to be filed. But I noticed that the signature on that form doesn’t match what’s on your registration form for the Expo. You forged your dad’s signature, didn’t you?’

  You reluctantly acknowledge that you did.

  ‘Fantastic!’ The boy laughs. ‘You could go to jail if I reported you.’

  Your face goes pale.

  ‘But that’s okay.’ The boy’s voice is now quiet and threatening. ‘I won’t report you … so long as you pay me.’

  You end up being blackmailed. Each week, you hand over all your pocket money to this brat so that he will keep your secret.

  You pull the lever and the hovercraft surges forward with an extra burst of speed. The driver loses his grip and is flung into a display stand of car shampoo. Dozens of shampoo bottles smash into the tub of water in the neighbouring model-boat display, which erupts into an ever-increasing volcano of suds.

  But you and the hovercraft continue on. You try to push the lever back, but it’s jammed. You yank the wheel to move around the turbo-skateboard display and head out the rear exit …

  Straight onto the racetrack. You zoom around, swerve to avoid an oncoming race car and go up a ramp that launches you into the air.

  You’re flying.

  Up! Up! Up!

  But the momentum wears off, and then it’s … Down! Down! Down! Until …

  With a bone-shaking CLANG, you stop in mid-air.

  How is that even possible?

  You look over the edge of the hovercraft to see the air shimmering around you, shifting, solidifying. You’re on a gigantic metal disc. What’s going on?

  A hatch creaks open and a slimy tentacle slithers out.

  You choke back a scream.

  Aliens!

&nb
sp; You take a deep breath to stop yourself from freaking out.

  You must have landed on an invisible alien spaceship that has come to visit Earth.

  Are they friendly? you wonder. Or are they angry at being discovered? And if they are angry, what will they do to you? Zap you? Probe you? Disintegrate you?

  Perhaps you should try to get the hovercraft started again so you can escape.

  Go here.

  Then again, this might be your only chance to ever meet an alien. If you want to stick around and say hi, go here.

  You climb out of the wreckage and try to apologise. But the owner of the Edwardian roadster, the hovercraft driver and the model aeroplane attendant all start shouting at you at the same time. A crowd gathers around.

  The Expo security guards arrive and you are taken to the main office. You are worried that you will be made to pay for all the damage. How will you afford it? You don’t get anywhere near enough pocket money.

  Luckily, you are informed that the Expo is insured against this sort of damage. You don’t have to pay for it.

  But …

  Your parents are called to collect you. They are furious. Your pocket money is suspended, you are grounded and you’re banned from watching television and playing video games INDEFINITELY.

  The Expo officials give you a lifetime ban. Never again will you be able to attend an Extreme Machine Expo.

  And to top it all off, your exploits are reported on the news, resulting in public humiliation.

  You remain in line and wait for the sports drink.

  You get your sample of Fantastic Fizz Fuel just in time, downing it in one gulp. It washes away the repulsive flavour of the all-natural extreme-energy superfood snack bar. The trouble is that the Fantastic Fizz Fuel tastes even worse.