Submitted for the January 2025 prompt: Galactic Brackets

Mario’s Ferrari X-96000 temporal racer shuddered, then stabilized. There was another vibrating shimmy as Mario materialized into the second-to-last curve around the 1889 Eiffel Tower dedication.

All his panels showed green. He re-ran diagnostics — still green. Before he could contact Pit for confirmation, an all-racers caution flag pinged his Ferrari’s main screen. He eased into a slow circle around the Tower’s top. His Pit boss, JR, was already in his ear.

 

“There’s a massive collision over the Great Wall straightaway in 1380. Most of the racers are caught in it. Crowd is going wild. You know how they love a crash.”

 

Mario could just imagine the UpTime fans gathered in huge coliseums, screaming at 4D projections of racers traversing a looping roller coaster course through history. Too bad the temporal locals couldn’t see the phased racers. The most they probably got out of the pile-up was a mysterious light show in the sky. Maybe the Ming would interpret that as an auspicious blessing of their portion of the Wall?

 

“How many left?” Mario asked.

 

“Three, including you. Al is four jumps behind the crash. He’s barely making his windows. And he’s already got a major penalty for missing the Stonehenge final lintel lift. Thirty plus years off. One of his temporal drift compensators must be glitchy.”

 

“Speaking of glitchy, she gave me some nasty shimmies heading into the Tower curve. Anything pop up on your boards?”

Mario waited impatiently, listening to JR confer with the Pit techs monitoring every system of his racer.

 

“Nothing showing here, though Edgar thinks he’s not getting accurate readings from the accelerator manifold. Claims a sensor is faulty.”

 

“Edgar always thinks something is faulty. Even if his panels are all showing green. He’s an over-anxious techno-wizard who thrives on problems.”

 

JR chuckled. “Granted, but you’ve made forty-eight jumps without a pitstop. We’re under caution — best time to bring her in, just to be safe?”

 

“You said three left. Who else?”

 

There was a long pause before JR answered. “Tony is one jump back over Giza.”

 

“Of course that stuck-up prick is still in it!”

 

“Mario, you’ve got to let it go.”

 

“He tried to get me banned from the circuit! Just because I smoked his ass in a beat-up Ariel 200 my first pro race out. Sweet baby Jesus, JR, how can you let it go? After you took me under your wing, the bastard’s father threw his weight around, trying to shut both of us out from any sponsors!”

 

“And the best revenge?” JR replied calmly to the rant he'd heard countless times before. “You’ve placed higher than Tony in pretty much every race since and have enough sponsors to maintain a fleet of 9600s. Just bring her in for a hands-on check while we’re still under caution.”

 

The green flag icon reappeared on his racer’s screens. Mario considered his status. Everything was clear, both here and in Pit. One turn to go, then the straightaway back UpTime and the season is sealed. Again. Even with six races left. The fastest season win ever; the most consecutive wins in a row; I’ll be the undisputed greatest Time Racer of all, well, time.

 

He widened his circle, upping his velocity. Still no wobble. Just a smooth quantum manifold purr. Tony’s Chevy TR-44Z popped into the zone heading for the Eiffel turn. That clinches it. No way I’m letting that arrogant trillionaire dandy ruin my thunder.

 

“I’m jumping, JR.”

 

Mario shifted gears prepping his final jump — Mayan temple, Yucatan, 550. Just as he hit his jump accelerator, the shimmy returned, then a concussive thump. He emerged on target, but with massive temporal velocity. Holy shit, his temporal wave-front was almost 10,000 meters across! When the hell!? Mario’s temporal location sensors were working just fine: sixty-six million years ago and change — Late Cretaceous.

 

“Mario, she’s not salvageable,” JR said in his ear, “It’s time to bail.”

 

“I can get her back,” Mario replied, resetting systems, while fighting to maintain altitude.

 

“Pit says otherwise. You’re moments away from a cascade failure.”

 

“But we’re so close. I regain control, and even with the missed marker penalty, we win everything.”

 

A high-pitched whine suddenly reverberated through the Ferrari. Mario watched icons flicker and change across his panels. Jump accelerator — red; stabilizers — red; non-temporal flight thrusters — red; pretty much everything else — red!

 

“Mario, there are plenty of 96000s back in the garage. We win the next race and we can still claim the season. Let her go, son. Changing the past is impossible, so what harm can she do?” JR said, anxiety creeping in.

 

Mario kept working to reestablish control of his racer. It remained unresponsive, dead as a rock.

 

“The history books will call you the dumbest time racer ever, if you’re not here to race! Eject!”

 

Mario tried another reset.

 

“You want Tony and his father to laugh and spill their champagne over your grave? Eject, dammit!”

 

Ground looming, Mario slammed the emergency recall transmat on his left thigh. He re-materialized safely UpTime in Pit. His Ferrari, however, a burning streak filling the sky above myriad species of dinosaurs, slammed into the earth with the kinetic energy of seventy-two teratons of TNT.