It had been three weeks since the Ashford festival, and everything had worked out just as Arthur planned. His father had a conversation with Mr. Henderson at the vintage car display. Henderson had mentioned his son's abandoned mini-moto. Arthur had shown interest in it, The price had been paid, the bike had been loaded into a rented trailer, and now it was finally here.
Arthur ran his hands along the fuel tank, feeling the dust on it.
His Track Sense came on with info: [tire pressure was low but even, chain tension was tight enough, brake pads had plenty of life left.]
"It needs to be cleaned properly," his father said from the garage doorway, cleaning his hands with a rag. "And probably a full service before you can ride it."
"I can help," Arthur said.
David raised an eyebrow. "You're six, mate. I appreciate the enthusiasm but working on a motorbike is more difficult than you can handle. "
"Try me."
The way Arthur spoke made his father pause. They'd been arguing about this a lot recently, on what David thought his son could handle and what Arthur could actually do.
"Alright," David said. "Tell me what needs to be done."
Arthur moved around the bike, his adult mind listing every issue while his child's body struggled to touch some parts of the bike. "The fuel needs to be drained completely. Old petrol breaks down and leaves residue in the carburetor. We'll need to pull the float bowl and clean the jets. The air filter probably needs replacing. Of course, we must do an oil change. Brake fluid should also be flushed and renewed. Tires need air but the rubber are still good."
His father stared at him. "Where did you learn all that?"
"The Internet. Books. Online groups." The lies were easy to say now. Arthur had spent hours memorizing maintenance procedures that he already knew from his past life. "I've been reading."
"I can see that." David knelt beside the bike, giving it a fresh look. "Well then. Let's see if you actually know what you're doing."
They worked on the Polini together for the next two weeks. Arthur's hands were helpful for reaching tight spaces, and his father stopped questioning his knowledge after Arthur correctly identified a sticky throttle cable on his first try.
Ellie showed up on the second weekend, with her camera. "Heard you actually got a bike," she said, taking a picture of Arthur, whose arm was deep inside the air filter case. "I'm shocked your sneaky plan worked."
"It wasn't a sneaky plan," Arthur said, without looking at her. "It was strategic planning."
"Of course. It's not the same thing." Click. As she took another picture. "What's it like? Getting what you wanted?"
Arthur took the dirty air filter out and held it up to the light to look at it closely. it was filled with dust, but it didn't show any damage. It didn't need replacement. "Ask me when I'm actually riding it."
"Fair enough." Ellie walked around to get a different angle. "Your dad looks happy, at least. I don't think he expected you to know what you were doing."
"He's a good teacher," Arthur said. His father had a kind of patience Arthur had never had in any of his lives.
"You're a good liar," Ellie replied. "But I think you actually mean that one."
Before Arthur could answer her, she'd already moved on to taking pictures of something else.
Two days later, the Polini's engine started with a loud noise for the first time in over a year.
His father looked stunned. "Bloody hell. We actually did it."
"Of course, we did." Arthur said, but his voice came out rougher than he meant it to.
"Graham Sutton called yesterday," his father said over the noise of the engine. "He's got some connections in the local mini-moto scene. He managed to rent us a part of the old Dunsfold airfield this Saturday afternoon. Few hours of private practice, just you and the bike."
Arthur's head snapped up. "Seriously?"
"Seriously. But Arthur..." David's look became worried and serious. "This is your test run. Not just for the bike, but for you. Your mum and I need to see that you can handle this bike safely. That you're not going to do something reckless and get yourself injured."
"I'll be careful," he said, trying to make his voice sound genuine.
Saturday came by with the typical cloudy weather. It looked like it might rain but it never did. The old airfield was a long, open area with faint painted runway lines.
Arthur stood near the practice area, staring at the part of the road his father had marked off with traffic cones.
"Are you ready for this?" his father asked, holding Arthur's new helmet. They bought it used from another family whose kid had outgrown it.
Arthur put the helmet on. His Track Sense instantly became active, providing him with data about wind direction, surface texture and air temperature. He took a deep breath and forced himself to reduce the data so he could handle it.
"Apex Guide," he said softly, so his father wouldn't hear him. "Set diagnostics."
[DIAGNOSTIC MODE ACTIVE.]
[TELEMETRY RECORDING. DON'T CRASH ON YOUR FIRST LAP. THAT WOULD BE EMBARRASSING.]
Even in his head, the Guide couldn't help but make a comment.
Arthur swung his leg over the Polini and sat down on the seat. The bike felt different than in the Simulation. It felt heavier. More real.
Arthur released the clutch and the bike started moving forward. The first few meters were shaky because his child's muscles are not strong enough to handle the machine the way his adult mind wanted to. But then his training kicked in. All those hours he had spent in the Simulation turned into actions his new body was learning to accept.
He completed a slow lap, getting a feel for the surface. His Track Sense recorded every crack, every place where the concrete changed, building a mental map he could use later.
On the second lap, he added speed. Not much though, just enough for him to feel the bike become responsive and powerful under his body.
On the third lap, Arthur started riding aggressively. He sped into the quick turns his father made with the traffic cones, braking late and feeling the front tire take the full weight. It was too much speed. The bike shook a little, and Arthur fixed it with a sharp turn of the handlebars.
You leaned too much, you idiot, he angrily thought to himself. The front tire wasn't loaded properly. This is basic stuff, Arthur. Don't be stupid.
His thoughts were filled with mean comments, the same voice that had pushed him to hard in his past life. The voice that said good enough was never actually good enough, that second place might as well be last.
From the sideline, his father was watching him with an expression Arthur couldn't read.
If David only knew the truth. That his son wasn't really six at all.
"Careful, Speed Demon!"
Ellie's voice was loud over the engine noise. Arthur quickly looked while he was turning a corner and saw her standing next to his father, holding her camera up. The distraction made him miss his line, and he had to brake harder than intended to avoid running off the track.
"You wouldn't want your ego to crash harder than your bike!" she said out loud.
"She really knows how to get under my skin," Arthur hissed.
But there was something else in her comment, something that made him ride the next lap more carefully. Not because he was scared of crashing, but because he knew Ellie was right. His ego was pushing him to take risks that his child's body wasn't ready to handle yet.
He could now see how strange the situation was. In his past life, he'd pushed too hard with too little. Now he had knowledge and a second chance, but his body was the only thing holding him back.
Arthur spent the next hour working through drills. He focused on braking zones, Throttle control and Line selection. Each lap was a little better than the one before, his Cognitive Accelerator processing feedback faster than his mind could do.
[DAILY TRAINING MISSION ISSUED], the Apex Guide's voice announced in his head.
[TRACK ADAPTATION, PHASE ONE. OBJECTIVE: ACHIEVE TEN CONSECUTIVE LAPS WITHIN 0.7 SECONDS OF OPTIMAL THEORETICAL TIME FOR THIS TRACK LAYOUT.]
Arthur checked his mental timer. His fastest lap so far was likely three seconds slower than the best possible time. Getting within 0.7 seconds, he would need to ride with almost zero mistakes.
Good, he thought aggressively. Let's see what I'm actually made of.
He took on the next lap with a strong, new focus. He managed to find grip where it seemed impossible, braking later than usual and trusting his Track Sense to tell him the absolute limits before his mind could doubt.
The back wheel of the bike slipped in Turn 3. Arthur caught it with a knee-jerk correction that was pure instinct, but his heart beat hard and fast for the rest of the lap.
By lap twenty, his arms were burning. His neck hurt from holding his head up against the . His six-year-old body was screaming at him to stop.
Arthur still kept pushing.
[Lap twenty-three: 0.9 seconds off optimal.]
[Lap twenty-five: 0.8 seconds off optimal.]
[Lap twenty-seven: he nailed it. 0.69 seconds off optimal theoretical time.]
[MISSION COMPLETE,] the Apex Guide announced, and for once his enthusiasm felt earned.
[NOT BAD FOR YOUR FIRST REAL SESSION. YOUR BODY IS LIMITING YOUR PERFORMANCE, BUT YOUR MIND IS ALREADY OPERATING AT ADVANCED LEVELS.]
Arthur slowly went back to where his father and Ellie were standing. He then shut off the engine and took off his helmet.
David was shaking his head slowly. "I don't... I'm not sure what I just watched, Arthur. That wasn't a six-year-old learning to ride. That was..."
"Intense," Ellie finished, bring down her camera. She'd been documenting his session the whole time. "That's what that was. Intense and kind of scary."
Arthur climbed off the bike with his legs shaking from the intense effort he just put in the test ride. "Did I pass the test?"
His father laughed. "Pass it? Mate, you just did things I've seen teenagers struggle with. Where the hell did you learn to ride like that?"
In another life, Arthur thought.
"Practice," he said instead. "I've been practicing."
David gave Ellie a quick look. She simply made a small shrug, as if she had given up on trying to understand Arthur months ago.
"Right," his father said. "Practice. Well, I think we can safely say you're serious about this. Your mom is going to be so excited and surprised when I tell her how good you are."
Arthur let himself smile a little. The first real test was passed. The bike was his, his parents were satisfied, and the plan for what to do next was easy to see.
All he had to do now was keep training, keep improving, and keep dragging his small child's body toward the future he'd already lived once and lost.
No pressure.
"Can we do this same time next week?" he asked.
His father smoothed his hair. "Same time next week. Now let's get you home before your mother sees how tired you look and bans motorcycles from the house forever."
While the Polini bike was loaded into the trailer, Ellie moved to walk beside Arthur. "You know what I noticed?" she said in a low voice.
"What?"
"You weren't smiling at all. You were riding like your life depended on it, but you looked miserable the whole time."
Arthur stopped walking. "I wasn't miserable. I was just focusing on what I was doing."
"Is there a difference? Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were fighting a war out there. Not having fun. Fighting."
She walked away before he could respond to her, leaving Arthur with the feeling that she had noticed something about him that he wanted to keep hidden from everyone.
But winning wasn't about fun. It was about showing that he was capable. About validation and redemption and showing the world that Arthur Finch wasn't a wasted life and a forgotten death.
Fun was for people who had nothing to prove.
Arthur had everything to prove.