Power. Speed. Power. Agility. Power. Power. Part of his mantra everytime he woke up. His lullaby when he slept. His favourite tune while in the gym. And even now, as he struggled through basic trigonometry questions, it would always rush through his mind like a crackle of electricity, nay a burst of pure raw energy, a caged animal thrashing about its confines, willing to be let loose.
"You have half an hour remaining till the test is over."
He wished that that power could be translated to his mind. All the speed, the processing capabilities of a full scale supercomputer, in his mind. If only he could be done with the test in one hour, just like the pretty girl he had seen walking out of the room just some thirty minutes ago. He berated himself for possessing so much brawn with so puny a brain. Behaving like a silly ostrich, burying his head in the sand, giving as much care to academics as the ostrich would its eggs.
Still he thought to himself, 'Academics are just a waste of time. Stereotypical but true. Imagine how many laps I would have done around The Arena in those two hours. How many dribbles I would have made down the smooth pitch. Or how many rounds I would have gone in their state-of-the-art simulator. And now I'm stuck with having to do high school math with no chance whatsoever of knowing any answers. Just glad the program took me on, only God knows where I would have been otherwise. Still, is it too much to ask if I just concentrated on what brought me here...for once, can't I be allowed full control on my life??'
"Harry, time is up. Bring your answer sheet to the front."
'Great, now the lecturer knows my name...wait, how did he even know it? Oh, the class list. Why be so nosy though? Couldn't he have said, 'you over there, forward your answer sheet' or something like that'
In truth Harry was so much talkative that he would, more often than not, run his mouth even before he thought. Just his luck that he was never caught on camera, for in this day and age, the amount of ridicule he would have faced had it happened would have sent his heavily built 6'4" body to an early death. And his poor self esteem would have borne the brunt of his actions. Even at just over two decades old, he had seen the worst of life, in every single stage of his life up to that point.
"Good for you that you managed to answer all the questions."
"I hardly managed, sir. I just scraped past them."
"It's still an effort from you, boy."
"Thank you sir."
'Boy?? Do I look like boy to you?? I just turned twenty two pops, so show me some respect!'
Grateful for letting go of that burden, but still seething for the old man's apparent lack of respect towards a millennial, he headed towards The Arena, a smile on his face and his tune now on repeat in his head.
YOU ARE READING
For The Love Of Speed
General FictionHarry, a young race driver prodigy, is on the verge of securing what would be his greatest job ever. There is a small catch to it though. He must, against his will, secure an undergraduate degree for his dream to come true. How, then, is he going to...
