Each racer had their own mechanic, assigned the difficult task of maintaining the bikes or the inevitable body repair. Swoop racing itself was dangerous, expensive, and limited to nobles or their sponsored pilot. At a max speed of 850 km/h and the turning radius of a garbage scow, driving one took equally heavy doses of skill, reflexes, courage, and luck to pilot. The Lhosan Industries Swoop Racer was the fastest mass-produced speeder bike around. The lights flickered on one by one and the soft hum of electricity and glow of mass-produced glow bulbs filled the garage, revealing a Lhosan Industries Swoop Racer. Most of them were from his mother, reminding him to eat or wanting to talk about the latest gossip. The system beeped in acknowledgement, and informed Adrian of the multiple messages that had been left over the past few days, and summarily ignored. With his eyes closed so that he wouldn’t kill his vision, he leaned over with practiced ease to the shop terminal and turned off the alarm system and keyed on the lights and air filtration and acclimatization systems. Impatient, Adrian ducked underneath the door into the garage. The door slowly began grinding open and draw upwards. Adrian unlocked the door to the garage by keying in his passcode into the door console.
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