Chapter 444 - 289: Putting Wheels on the World (Part 2)
"I want to make a reservation!"
"Me too!"
The group of boys was bursting with enthusiasm.
All players who made a reservation now would receive a confirmation number.
The demo had only been open for a few hours, but over a thousand people had already made reservations to experience the full version.
Making a reservation required a deposit, and if you didn’t show up, you only got half of it back.
People were showing their support with cold, hard cash.
With this single attraction, Deepwater City’s tourism industry was sure to thrive in the future.
The key was that it was difficult to replicate. It would be nearly impossible for other cities to gather that many Devil employees, and the full version required far more Devils than the demo.
After the clamor of making reservations died down, they finally noticed Craig, who had been waiting outside for them.
Craig put on the air of a pro and said, "What took you so long? I finished ages ago."
"Whoa, how did you clear it so fast? I thought I was pretty quick myself. The Great Devil at the end was super tough to fight."
"Hmph, just the final Devil? I took care of him in a couple of hits," Craig said breezily, completely unaware that he had just exposed himself.
His friends had obviously realized Craig was lying. The final Great Devil was a mechanics-based boss; you had to make use of the environment, so it couldn’t be defeated in just "a couple of hits."
But they chose to play along anyway. "Wow, you’re amazing then! So much better than us."
It was a required course for the children of nobility.
Emotional Intelligence.
Of course, they just assumed Craig had been "killed" inside the level. They never would have guessed that he hadn’t even dared to fire a single shot.
"Hey, how about we do the team mode again? I’m not done playing yet."
"Yeah, yeah!"
"Let’s not," Craig said from the side.
’I can spin a story when I’m by myself, but what excuse could I possibly use if we go in as a team?’
The others all turned to look at him, confused as to why he didn’t want to play the team level again.
"Uh, well, doesn’t the venue have a rule? That you can only play once?"
However, the guide had clearly not mastered Emotional Intelligence. Failing to grasp the subtext in Craig’s question, he explained, "Actually, as our most honored guests, you and your friends are welcome to experience it again."
And so, all eyes turned back to Craig.
It had to be said that while Craig was timid, prideful, and a bit of a contrarian, his ability to think on his feet was absolutely top-notch.
"Well, uh, how do I put this..." Craig noticed the line stretching for hundreds of meters outside the entrance and an idea struck him. "We can’t just keep playing over and over for our own enjoyment. What about all those players waiting in line? As nobles with a sense of honor, we must know to cherish the common folk."
He spoke with such righteous conviction.
Noble education did, in fact, emphasize protecting the commoners, caring for the weak, and being a good noble with a strong moral compass.
As for the reality of the situation... well, one can only say that education doesn’t completely shape a person.
"Oh, I see! That’s our Craig, all right."
Fortunately, his friends were still at an age where they were completely convinced by such reasoning. Nobles who were scoundrels from childhood were a minority; most only became that way after their positions began to dictate their thoughts.
They were persuaded by Craig.
"So where are we going next?"
"Why don’t we tour the venue first and learn about the culture and history of the Devils? Then we can head to the racetrack. There’s a race this afternoon featuring the best Magic-guided Vehicles on the entire Continent."
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「The Racetrack.」
Benz watched anxiously as the Victory automobile tested on the track.
It was a difficult track, full of consecutive turns.
The prevalence of so many turns was a result of the development trends in Magic-guided Vehicles.
About a decade or so ago, the primary metric for a Magic-guided Vehicle was speed, and tracks consisted mainly of long straights. Then, the various workshops competed so fiercely on speed that they hit a developmental bottleneck. With no major speed improvements in recent years, they began to compete on handling performance instead.
This was not in the Victory’s favor. When it came to top speed, the gap between the automobile and Magic-guided Vehicles wasn’t too large. The Victory could reach a maximum of 110 kilometers per hour.
The best-known Magic-guided Vehicles topped out at around 120 to 130 kilometers per hour.
The Victory even accelerated a little faster.
But in cornering performance, it lost out by a wide margin.
To keep costs down, the Victory’s performance in this area wasn’t great.
In the words of Zog, "Our primary use case is city driving. What do we need such high-speed cornering for? So what if you can drive it? If you can take a turn at twenty an hour, that’s good enough. We’d be better off making the seats more comfortable."
But it couldn’t compete with Magic-guided Vehicles on seat comfort either; they used far superior materials.
Benz was riddled with anxiety.
Tens of thousands of spectators would be attending the race that afternoon. Auto racing was still a spectacle well worth watching.
In other words, tens of thousands of people would be watching the Victory embarrass itself on the track.
His wife and child were also coming to watch that afternoon. In his drive to design and manufacture a mass-producible car, Benz hadn’t been home in months.
He had originally planned to show off in front of his child today, to prove that his dad wasn’t just "messing around" and holing up in the garage all day with wrenches and spare parts.
’As the father, I’m already failing to provide emotional support to my family. Don’t tell me that after today, I won’t even be able to provide for them financially?’
’Then I’d truly be a failure as a father.’
The Victory slowly stopped in front of him, and the driver got out.
"Not bad. I’m confident I can shave another two seconds off the full-speed lap time."
The driver seemed quite optimistic.
The young man behind the wheel was a Deepwater City local who had loved the thrill of speed since childhood. At the age of six, he’d dared to hit speeds of sixty or seventy kilometers per hour on nothing but a broken snowboard.
So when he heard about the automobile, he was immediately captivated by a machine that could accelerate to over a hundred and became Benz’s dedicated test driver.
He could often push the car beyond its designed speed limits.
But it wasn’t enough. The vehicle’s performance was holding him back.
Benz looked at the stopwatch in his hand. 4 minutes and 22 seconds. That was the time for one lap.
The race was 150 kilometers, with each lap being 5 kilometers, for a total of 30 laps.
At the current lap time, even if he improved by two seconds and drove perfectly during the race, the best-case scenario would be getting lapped three times.
The qualifying race was already over. To no one’s surprise, the Victory had "triumphantly" secured last place.
Benz now found himself hoping that all the cars ahead would crash in the afternoon, allowing him to scoop up first place.
’An unsporting victory, yes, he knew. But damn, it would feel good.’
"Mr. Benz, why aren’t we using a faster car for the race?" the driver asked, confused.
In fact, they had prepared for a race long ago and had a much faster car. All their training had been done in that vehicle.
Based on their training performance, securing a spot in the top three would have been easy, if not a guaranteed first place.
Until Zog informed them they had to use the mass-produced car for the race.
Zog’s reasoning at the time was that it was like a street vendor selling knives; the consumer could never buy a knife as good as the one the vendor was demonstrating with.
But the Benz car was going to be different. It was going to be "what you see is what you get." The car used in the race would be the exact car they sold to customers.
The race, after all, was just one big advertisement.
Benz saw the logic in it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to lose.
"Perhaps Mr. Zog has his reasons."
Benz could only answer this way.
"Well, well, well, if it isn’t the legendary Benz automobile! ’The brand-new car that uses no Magic! The hope for the future of transport! The wheels of a new era!’" a voice called out sarcastically in Benz’s direction.
That was an Engineer from the Slade Workshop.
The Magic-guided Vehicle from this workshop had been the fastest in the qualifiers.
The phrases he was shouting were all slogans from the Benz automobile’s advertising campaign.
Hearing them now, they sounded incredibly grating to Benz.
But no matter how bad he felt, he couldn’t show it with his words.
"The future of transportation isn’t necessarily about being the fastest."
"Ha, you’d better prepare your post-race presentation. Don’t be too scared to go on stage. Plenty of last-place finishers have scurried away with their tails between their legs in previous years."
The presentation. Benz’s head throbbed just thinking about it.
It was a tradition of the expo. After the race, the cars would be displayed and introduced in front of the entire audience, the price would be announced, and orders would be taken on the spot.
The real-time order count for each workshop would also be displayed live.
It was even more torturous than the race itself.
The audience wouldn’t leave early when it was time for the last-place finishers to take the stage. Most of them couldn’t afford a Magic-guided Vehicle anyway, but they were more than happy to watch someone squirm in embarrassment.
Benz could only retreat to the garage; he couldn’t think of a comeback.
Just then, a message arrived from Zog.
Benz picked up his phone, and as he read, a glimmer of hope returned to his eyes.
It seemed he finally understood what it meant to feign weakness only to strike a decisive blow.