M1S5 Memo #1: The Places Between the Races

Hunluen – 1/9/24

Exiting the elevator onto the bustling streets of Hunluen, Ruzzy didn’t realize for a few seconds that the sun had set in the half hour they were underground. The block was a blinding array of shops and food vendors. A department store opposite the vendors beckoned customers with neon arrows flashing in all manner of directions. A cacophonous tune thrummed from unseen speakers. The cart nearest Ruzzy was serving rainbow drinks that smoked like dry ice, and the LED sign of a candy truck proudly proclaimed, EXPLOSIVE! Across the square stood the Chaos Needle, a tapering observation tower ringed with skybridges, which lit up the surrounding buildings with a blue glow.

Ruzzy needed reorienting. They had been to Hunluen during M1S2, but this was their first time taking the train alone without Razzy’s excessively detailed navigation.

They settled as far from the crowd as was feasible to check their phone’s map. A few missed notifications lit up their lock screen – the noise of the nightlife had drowned out the vibrations.

Weaving through passersby, Ruzzy started in the direction of their dinner spot. Almost immediately, another notification popped up – a comment on their recent Rollstagram post: “You’ve done the Racers fans so proud! We knew you had it in you. A race my fam and I will never forget! #RaspberryRobust!”

Ruzzy liked the comment and returned their phone to their bag. This was one of dozens they’d received since their win the previous night, and dozens more on their team’s social media. This success was just as shocking to Ruzzy as it was to those watching. Probably to their competitors as well, though their disbelief was masked with polite congratulations and high fives. Ruzzy was no stranger to the Racers’ reputation. It was the team’s fourth outing in Marbula One, with only two bronzes from Season 2 to show for it. Any delusions of championship contention had escaped them years ago, and even fans weren’t showing the same enthusiasm as when the Raspberry Racers were new to the tournament. Ruzzy’s bronze at Arctic Circuit was a milestone in its own right – any team’s first medal in a sport is worth the celebration – but a gold and fastest lap after even your fans have lost hope was an entirely different beast.

Momo was standing expectantly under the awning of the restaurant, Burgemonium, and handed Ruzzy a menu as they exchanged greetings. It unfurled to the ground. If Ruzzy knew one thing about Hunluen cuisine, it’s that they would put anything between two pieces of bread. This was clearly no exception. Spoiled for choice, they chose a sandwich they knew they couldn’t find in Rubow – the “Sriracha Lookin’ At,” a spicy noodle burger rated four out of five peppers. Ruzzy would have gone for a hotter option had it not required a waiver. Meanwhile, Momo ordered the “All in Good Bun,” a sesame pork burger in a steamed dough bun, wrapped inside another layer of steamed dough. The two chose a table by the front window, overlooking the street.

“I hope the ride here wasn’t too bad,” said Momo. “The train system here is terribly confusing. My first time visiting, I took the train nearly out of town before I realized it.”

“Surely after the first hour, you’d put the pieces together,” replied Ruzzy in jest.

“My destination was two hours the opposite way!”

For someone defending a racers’ championship title, Momo was about as unintimidating as could be – and not just because of their current struggle to pick up a dumpling burger that was slightly too large for the provided chopsticks. Beating out marbles from top contending teams, Momo had been a dark horse the previous season. Off the racetrack, however, one might never be wiser to Momo’s competitive grit. Perhaps, Ruzzy mused, they were taking up Momo’s mantle. Not only had their team’s history put them under the radar, but they knew too well the reputation of a  reserve. 

Ruzzy glanced over at their phone as it buzzed.

This Rollstagram comment was far from the worst vitriol they had received since the announcement that the Racers were returning to M1, but compounded with the hot sauce from their sandwich, the comment made for an extra-sickening pang. There’s no proving your worth to those who had decided long ago how to feel.

Ruzzy put their burger down. “How do you handle the doubters?”

Momo was caught off guard. “I’m still learning that, really. Have to convince myself it’s a vocal minority. I still get comments from angry Red Eye fans. It kind of comes with the territory.” Ruzzy frowned, envisioning their future.

“For what it’s worth, you already did the impossible,” Momo ribbed. “I was just beaten for gold by a Raspberry Racer.”

“You gave me a great challenge though. Do you know how it feels to be chased by a Marbula One champion?”

“If you keep this pattern up, maybe I will.”

Maybe this really was the sign of a new era. Since the changes in the qualification system from Season 2, there was always an itch in the back of Ruzzy’s mind to return to the sport. Their record wasn’t favorable, but did they have to accept eighteen points and two DNQs as the best they could do?

After their meal, they headed back to the subway with Momo. The speakers were playing low, bass-heavy music. The Chaos Needle glowed a warm yellow. Halfway to the elevator, a Rollstagram notification again lit up Ruzzy’s phone. They pulled Momo aside.

“Uh, sorry to do this, I actually think I’ll explore the area some more.”

“Hey, no worries. I’m glad we could catch up! Don’t get lost,” Momo replied.

“I could say the same to you. Catch you in Zuro?”

“Sure, if I don’t see you at the boba place by the hotel tomorrow. Have a good night!”

Ruzzy watched Momo roll through the turnstile. Swiping away the notification, they turned around to head to the Chaos Needle. They were never one for flashy tourist attractions, but in this moment, being 600 feet off the ground sounded appealing. This weekend was already surreal enough. 

The observation deck afforded a panoramic view of the vast urban landscape – a tapestry of a rich, lively, ever-growing city that reveled in its oddities. Ruzzy gazed through the glass floor, the streets and bridges a shifting river of color and light below them. Suddenly, it was all silly. Why were they bothering with others’ opinions on their team? Screw that.  They had a gold medal. The Raspberry Racers were leading Marbula One. And the view from the top was wonderful.

Zuro – 8/9/24

After two straight weeks of constant travel, all Shock wanted in the world was to eat and sleep. It was fortunate, then, that the third floor of their hotel was occupied by a giant restaurant.  

At the heart of the expansive dining hall were four circular buffet stations, ringed with transparent domes. Like everything in Zuro they were implausibly spotless, pulsing with blue light, and inscrutable. With no staff in sight, Shock resorted to awkwardly hailing down a fellow diner. 

“Hey, how does this place… work?” they whispered

“Tap your room card to open them,” replied the stranger, demonstrating it so slowly Shock began to feel vaguely insulted. 

“Where’s the staff?” 

“No staff, just robots and cameras.” On cue, a replenishment bot zipped past and seamlessly refilled a container of soup. 

“…Got it.” 

What they’d been lining up for in the first place was a giant lump of off-white dough. It was completely unfamiliar, but judging by the line forming behind them it was extremely popular. Shock didn’t hesitate to pile it high on their plate. In line with everyone else they then doused it with its neighboring dish, a fish stew. A high-intensity laser then sterilized the ladle.

Hey, this is pretty nifty! Shock thought to themself. And no staff means I can get however much I want! 

---

Lost in thought at the Zuronian History Museum’s special exhibit entrance, Snowy didn’t recognize Team Plasma’s M1 duo in the lobby until the pair hailed them down. 

Ecto’s greeting was as they’d heard a dozen times that day- “Congratulations on the medal,” but with an additional furtive “too bad about Red Eye, anyway.” 

Snowy feigned a smile. “Thanks. I lost fair and square, anyway.” 

“Are you gonna see the exhibit? We could come in with you,” Ecto continued. 

Snowy glanced back at Snowstorm, now deep in conversation with Fearo, and nodded. Good days left them more company-minded. 

“Hey, fantastic! This sort of stuff is right up my alley, you know.” Not knowing them well, what exactly Ecto meant by stuff was left up to Snowy’s imagination.

Wandering into the exhibition space, Snowy remarked to themself how different the place was to any history museum they’d been in before. As hypermodern as anything in Zuro, nothing of the past lingered anywhere but in the exhibits themselves.. 

Entitled Mining: Past and Present, upsized black-and-white photographs of Old Zuro took pride of place on ultra-thin LCD screens. The donkey-hauled carts of ore and dust-covered miners were almost unimaginable now, long-vanished and replaced with heat-absorbing pavement and ultra-high speed commuter rail.  Passing further and further through the exhibit, the industry itself progressed around them, new developments and discoveries explained in intricate detail through digital plaques and 3d-printed model miniatures preserved within hair-thin, ultra-strong glass cabinets. Production processes refined over decades- safer, more sustainable, more efficient, and more alien to how things had started. Much as Snowy couldn’t stand the idea of living in Zuro, hot year-round and endlessly cheerful, they couldn’t help but be taken in by it all.

At the very end they arrived at an interactive video display about the mining process currently employed, one where the closest a miner ever got to the rocks was through a screen playing a live feed through a robot’s eyes. Young marbles monopolized the attached try-it-yourself button array. The sort of novelty Snowy balked at, Ecto nonetheless appeared utterly entranced. 

“Fantum and Zuro are both mining societies, but I’ve never seen anything like this,” mumbled Ecto wistfully, directed at nobody in particular. “If this technology becomes the gold standard, our way of life will be completely extinct.” 

Only then recalling that Team Plasma had been miners once, Snowy shuddered. Maybe for Ecto it was a sad thought, but the mere prospect of prospecting was too claustrophobic for them to respond empathetically. They didn’t need to, though, because it wasn’t long until Fearo and Snowstorm caught up from behind.

“Hey, Snowy. I’m returning your teammate before we leave,” Fearo announced, beckoning a still-distracted Ecto to return to them. 

“You’re sure we can’t get dinner?” offered Snowstorm, pouting. 

“Afraid not. We have a congratulations call with our teammates after every race. Ecto?” 

“Enjoy yourselves,” added Ecto, still distant. “And see you in Orlango.” 

As the two Plasma members departed, Snowy’s head swam. They nudged Snowstorm as they waved goodbye, whispering under the din.  

“Why don’t we do congratulations calls?” 

Snowstorm’s expression turned knowing, leaving Snowy oddly aggravated. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, just say it,” they barked. 

“Well… how often did you call Snowdrift when they were in Kinikolu?” 

Snowy counted down in their head. One, two… three times. 

“I don’t see what your point is,” Snowy retorted.

“Maybe that’s why.” 

---

Ugh… my stomach…

Ever since their night at the buffet Shock had been plagued by intermittent stomach pains, hobbling both their qualifying attempt and their race. Now they were consigned to the medical tent, being checked for injury and being left to recuperate from the consequences of their overeating. Bolt and Thunderstorm loomed over them, their faces portraits of disappointment. 

“You know, sometimes I get called the team’s weak spot -” 

“Just leave it, please.” 

Credits

• Writers: Piney, Millim
• Artist: Momoikkai
• Graphic Designer: Yume
• Copyeditors/Editors: Millim, Toffeeshop
• Photo Credits: Jelle’s Marble Runs
• References: Marbula One S5 GP1 Tumult Turnpike Race | Jelle’s Marble Runs; Marbula One S5 GP2 Electron Expressway Race | Jelle’s Marble Runs
• Release: 12/09/2024