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I did was give
advice. But I wonder if you could give someone else some advice in exchange.” I
studied the beckoning bustle and noise of the airport, waiting to enter my new
life through this gate. “In a few months, Miss Anselm’s going to get a plane
ticket in the mail. Without acknowledging you know what’s going on, I’d
appreciate it if you hinted strongly that she was due for a vacation.”
    Jenkins smiled. “It would be true.
Deal.”
    It would be my first time on a
plane since my return from Brazil. This had been a week of many beginnings and
endings. Almost everything I considered part of myself had changed at one
stroke, everything but the game.

Chapter 5 – Ghedra Designed
     
    Still depressed from my last day in Bayside, I threw myself
into the task of qualifying for SimCon. A week later, sitting at my
thirty-year-old plaid kitchen table, with an open window view of the beach, I
held this year’s 400 page design guide which the Simulation Coalition sent me
after receiving the entry fees. We were this year’s final entry (late in fact,
but they squeezed us in with a word from somebody in Washington).
    Each year, the game had a different
theme continent—Africa, Asia, Australia. This year’s four day race would be set
in Europe. Some wise-guys, complaining that they had skipped Antarctica, held a
“winter games” session. Events included snow slalom, penguin herding, blind
blizzard driving, and cold starting engines in 40 below weather. The virtual
race had been a re-enactment of Byrd’s last dog-sled run to the South Pole.
    SimCon was the Olympics of ground
vehicle design. A vehicle was street legal if it flew at less than four meters
off the ground, was less than two meters wide and three meters high. Although
no length restriction had been imposed, long bodies made easy targets. Even the
smallest design decision could make or break your vehicle. A few years ago,
with the addition of sting-ray missiles over the tail lights of a simple sports
model, the Lamborghini Aerospace Courier Elite became the vehicle of choice for
messengers, diplomats, bank presidents, and rock stars. LAS sold 2000 units
before their plant even had the tools to make them. Many young designers and
small companies risked everything at this bazaar of nations to become famous,
respected, and most of all—rich.
    Even mistakes in SimCon became
legendary. The original race going through the Texas badlands had armadillos as
road hazard for the pilots to swerve around. The first cocky tank driver who
attempted to run them down found out that the programmer had accidentally given
them a density higher than steel. The armadillos totaled his vehicle. Since
then, the “killer dillo” has been a regular feature of the game.
    After the extensive overview in the
introduction, the rule book was divided up by price category: under thirty
thousand, the lightweight division representing middle-class consumer fare;
under 100K, middleweight division where the majority of serious designers and
players competed; and the over 100K non-residential class, as they euphemistically
billed the heavyweight military category. Because several government contracts
rode on the results of the contest, participants at the high end regularly used
espionage and every black trick in the book, before during and after the event.
    Each team could contain up to two
prototypes per price range, for a total of six. To emphasize the benefits of
using off-the-shelf parts and mass-production techniques, a discount was given
if vehicles shared the same chassis or other common traits.
    Every contestant had to allocate at
least 5 percent of the entry fee for vehicle fuel and repairs during the game.
From experience, I knew that a good designer set back at least 10 percent. A
last minute adaptation could save your life in a close game. Something as
simple as tracer rounds could make all the difference in a night fight. Since
the cost of a vehicle could not exceed my entry fee,