Formula 1: The GOAT

For weeks, Fatih had repeatedly asked his mother for a go-kart at every opportunity. His plan was to continue asking until his next birthday, hoping persistence would secure it as a gift. Unfortunately, that plan was abruptly interrupted when, one day, his mother sat him down for an important conversation.

“Mother has to return to Germany for work next month,” Rümeysa said gently, her expression serious. Although she knew he might not fully understand the complexities, she felt it was better to tell him than to simply disappear one day, leaving him confused and questioning.

“You have work?” Fatih asked, his small face tilted up to hers.

“Yes, Mom does,” she affirmed, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve been on parental leave for the last two and a half years, ever since your father passed away. Now, I need to return, or my three-year leave will expire, and I might have to reapply for my position.” She spoke slowly, using simpler terms, ensuring he was focused.

To her constant surprise, raising Fatih hadn’t involved the difficulties other mothers often described. She often wondered if it was simply her deep love for him, the invaluable help from her own mother, or if Fatih was truly one of those children often labeled prodigies. Unlike the stories she heard from friends, her son rarely engaged in dangerous antics, caused little trouble, and didn’t create messes when left unattended. He didn’t exhibit the typical childhood stubbornness or lose attention during conversations; instead, Fatih usually listened intently, as if he understood everything. And, barring a few complex topics, his actions often showed he did understand. She’d even worriedly asked his doctor about it during a check-up, only to be reassured that he was a perfectly normal, albeit very observant, child.

“When are you leaving?” Fatih asked. He tried to remain calm, but his two-and-a-half-year-old body betrayed him, his face telegraphing a wave of emotions.

“Next month,” she answered, her own emotions welling up. This was why people said mothers had a weakness for their children; the look on Fatih’s face was almost enough to make her reconsider everything. But she knew she had to return to work.

“Will you come back?” His voice was small.

“Yes, of course. I’ll come visit you every chance I get, and you’ll be with Grandma.”

A flicker of his usual determination returned. “I want a go-kart when you come back,” he said, sensing the emotional current. He needed to divert the topic before his mother cried, but also saw an opportunity to secure his most cherished wish.

Rümeysa looked at her son, a mix of sadness and amusement in her eyes. “I will buy you one for your fifth birthday,” she finally relented, “but only if you behave well and don’t trouble Grandma while I’m gone.”

“I promise I’ll be good to Grandma!” Fatih exclaimed, hugging her tightly, not wanting her to retract the promise. A go-kart three years away felt like an eternity, but a promise was a promise.

Rümeysa was flabbergasted by how quickly her son’s sadness transformed into pure excitement at the mere mention of a go-kart. It was the final confirmation: her son was utterly captivated by motorsport. It was the only thing that elicited such an immediate, intense reaction. She made a mental note to research go-karting more thoroughly when she had the time.

For the next month, Rümeysa, Fatih, and his grandmother spent nearly every day out together, visiting playgrounds, amusement parks, and anywhere a child his age might find joy. But inevitably, the day of her departure arrived. They parted sadly at the airport, and she returned to Germany to resume her work. Fatih had tried to learn more about her job, but she always answered vaguely.

He had, however, managed to learn that his father, though of Turkish descent, had held German citizenship. This meant Fatih would have dual citizenship until he turned eighteen. After that, if Germany or Turkey allowed dual citizenship to be maintained, he would do nothing. If not, and he was required to choose one, he would make that decision when the time came. It was a problem for a much older Fatih, perhaps one with access to a computer to research the relevant regulations.

For the next two years, Rümeysa called almost daily and used all her vacation days, a full month each year, to visit him in Turkey.

During this period, Fatih diligently spent his allotted four hours daily in the Simulation. He meticulously wrote down everything he could remember from his past life, race details, technological advancements, and even significant global events. His Sponge Brain ability kept his memory sharp, but he wanted a written record for reference, reinforcement, and later verification. He dared not write these things in a physical book in the real world; if found, it would cause nothing but trouble.

Thankfully, Apollo was there to keep him company during those long hours in the Simulation. But on the night he celebrated his fourth birthday, things changed.

He logged into the Simulation after falling asleep, as usual. Instead of the familiar adult-sized Apollo, he was met by a child-sized version of his Mentor, waiting for him with an air of quiet anticipation.

“What’s the occasion?” Fatih asked, surprised by the change.

“You are now at an appropriate age to begin your training journey,” child-Apollo stated, his voice still holding its characteristic calm. “This is the best age to build a perfect foundation. Starting tomorrow, your formal training commences.”

The moment Apollo finished speaking, a quest window materialized before Fatih:

[Daily Quest (Repeatable)]

A thousand-mile journey starts with a single step. Yours starts now.

Tasks:

* Neck Training (Incomplete)

* Balance and Stability Training (Incomplete)

* Reaction Training (Incomplete)

* Endurance Training (Incomplete)

Time Limit: 24 hours

Reward: 1 SP

Punishment: None

(ACCEPT] \[DENY])

His first quest! Even though the reward was only one SP, it marked the beginning of him actively earning points. After quickly reading and understanding the terms, he pressed [ACCEPT].

“I will demonstrate the exercises,” Apollo said. “Observe carefully. The System will notify you upon the completion of each training category.”

Apollo then began. “First, neck training.” He stood straight, then gently moved his head from side to side, then up and down, for about a minute.

“Next, balance and stability.” He stood on one foot and performed light, controlled squats.

“For reaction speed, the System will project targets in the Simulation for you to interact with. For endurance training, it will be a light jog for five minutes.”

The exercises seemed more like gentle stretches than rigorous training, but Fatih understood they were appropriate for his four-year-old body.

“Now, perform them so I can correct any mistakes before they become bad habits,” Apollo instructed, stepping aside as a pen and notebook materialized in his hands, ready for note-taking.

One by one, Fatih repeated the exercises, trying to perfectly match Apollo’s demonstrations. Despite their simplicity, Apollo still made several corrections. Exercising was foreign to him; in his previous life, any physical exertion beyond basic movement had only amplified his pain.

Once all adjustments were made, and Fatih had repeated the corrected forms a few times to Apollo’s satisfaction, he was finally allowed to return to his note-taking within the Simulation.

Later, back in the real world, a new thought struck him.

“Looks like I need to make friends,” he murmured to himself. He realized he’d need an excuse, like playing with friends, to go to the park regularly. This would allow him to do his daily exercises without his grandmother questioning why he suddenly wanted to go there every day, and without requiring her to accompany him constantly, as she had when he was younger.

In the last two years, he hadn’t made any friends. He’d preferred staying indoors, partly to reduce the burden on his grandmother, and partly because, after years confined to a room in his previous life, he was still unaccustomed to spending extended time outside. His old room had been a prison, yes, but also a strange sort of safety cocoon. Unless he was with his mother or grandmother, he hadn’t ventured out much alone both because he was too young, and until now, he hadn’t had a compelling reason.

Now, he did.