Vell Harlan and the Doomsday Dorms

“Why do I have to do this again?” Vell asked. “We already stopped the explosion.”

“Because we had to enroll you in the race to get you close enough to rewire that nuclear engine,” Lee said.

“And because I’ve been looking for another excuse to get you in those chaps,” Harley said, as she strapped Vell’s saddle to the robot horse.

The day of the annual Campus Race had come, and the school had divided into various factions, all represented by a single vehicle. After disarming the nuclear science division's highly radioactive “car”, Vell was still obligated to compete as the robotics department representative. Harley had prepped the robotic horse and all his riding gear for the occasion. Lee was busier explaining than preparing.

“We tried- Well, I tried, Harley was very enthusiastic about the chaps- to explain the situation to Principal Goodwell, but he claimed that registration is final.”

“Which is a lie, by the way,” Harley said.

“Oh great, so now we have to worry what that’s about,” Vell sighed.

“Oh, well, no actually, we’re pretty sure we know why you couldn’t withdraw,” Lee said with a stiff smile.

“Hold on to your seats, students and spectators all, the racers are about to take their mark for the annual Campus Race,” an all-too familiar voice said. Vell’s heart dropped out of his chest. “Sponsored this year by me, Alistair Kraid.”

Vell let out a long, loud groan, so deep and rumbling it drowned out the engines roaring around him. Of course it would be Kraid.

“You could just start the race and then default,” Harley suggested. “I could fake a malfunction in the robo-horse.”

“No, I won’t give Kraid the satisfaction,” Vell said. “We’re doing this.”

“I respect your ability to commit to the bit, Vell,” Harley said. She gave his robot horse a pat on the butt to get it moving out of the prep room and onto the race track. The massive course constructed for the occasion encircled the island, going through elaborate curves and a single loop de loop that Vell wasn’t entirely sure his mechanical steed could handle.

The equine automaton trotted into place amid a sea of rocket-propelled racecars and high speed hovercraft -and a single woman in running shoes.

“Leanne?”

“Hey Vell,” Leanne said. She stretched out a bit, prepping for the run ahead.

“Why are you here?”

“Going to run, obviously,” Leanne said. “And for your follow-up question, ‘If you’re here, why did I have to sign up for this?’, well...it was kind of a last minute decision. Sorry.”

Vell nodded. He was already committed at this point anyway. No point complaining or questioning it now. He had other questions anyway.

“So, uh, don’t you need a vehicle to compete in this?”

Leanne flexed her legs, and her veins blazed black with a strength-enhancing nanomachine formula.

“I’m moving faster with mechanical assistance,” Leanne said.

“That seems like a weird loophole,” Vell said.

“It wouldn’t work for most people, but I actually do run fast enough to legally qualify as a car.”

“Ah. Well alright then,” Vell said. “So, why did you decide to sign up last minute anyway?”

“Well you got pressured into it, and I didn’t really want you to compete alone,” Leanne began.

“Oh I’m not alone, Freddy’s right over there. Hi Freddy!”

“Hey Vell! Hello Leanne!” Freddy waved at them from the back of his experimental go-kart. It had some form of glowing engine that Vell was still mildly concerned about.

“Okay, still,” Leanne said. “I also...well, I’m not going to get many other chances to do something this weird. I mean, look, that guy’s got a whole rocket strapped to his ass.”

The rocket-strapped rollerskater to their left gave them two thumbs up.

“Rock Rolland the Rocket Rollerskater is unfazed by your casual criticism,” Rock said.

“It’s not criticism, man, you do you,” Leanne said, returning his thumbs up. She turned back to Vell. “I’m just trying to take these last few opportunities for shenanigans as they come, you know? Seize the moment, try something new?”

“I get it,” Vell said. “Good for you.”

“And as an added benefit, I get to beat you and Harley’s dumb robot horse while I’m at it,” Leanne taunted.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing now? A little friendly competition?”

“Who said it was friendly?”

Leanne glared right at Vell with a playful smile, and Vell glared right back. He tightened his grip on the reins of his robot horse and then turned his gaze to the racetrack ahead.

“Racers, to your stations,” Kraid shouted over the PA system. “To those of you just tuning in or too stupid to remember, I’m Alistair Kraid, your future overlord, and joining me today for color commentary is my partner and lobotomized personal assistant, Yes Man! Isn’t that right, Yes Man?”

“Yes sir,” Yes Man said, because agreeing with Kraid was all he could do.

“Before we get started I’d like to take some time to introduce today’s racers. Starting with Rock Rolland the Roll- Actually no, I’m not reading all this shit. You want an R word? Here’s one: ridiculous. Because you are.”

“I remain unfazed!” Rock Rolland shouted defiantly.

“Up next we have the Mute Musclehead, Leanne Mikkola!”

Leanne pointed a middle finger in the direction of the announcer’s booth.

“The High-Velocity Virgin, Frederick Frizzle.”

“Hey!”

“The Runestone Cowboy, Vell Harlan!”

“Huh. That’s not so bad, actually,” Vell said, too soon.

“Don’t let his height fool you, ladies, he has a disproportionately small penis.”

“Untrue,” Harley shouted from the stands, as Vell sighed.

“And the rest of you guys I frankly don’t care about, actually,” Kraid said. The sound of him tossing aside a sheet of paper boomed over the PA. “I’m just here to watch the race. Three two one go!”

The abrupt countdown led to an explosive start as every race had to go from zero to one-hundred -often literally- in a second. Rock Rolland activated his butt-rocket and rolled to a commanding lead as other racers took off with a start behind him. Thanks to the very low start up time of legs, Leanne and Vell also took an early lead over most of the pack. Vell slightly more so than Leanne.

“Not too late for this competition to become ‘friendly’, Leanne,” Vell shouted over his shoulder.

“Just pacing myself, Harlan, we’ve got three laps to go,” Leanne said. “Also, watch your left.”

Vell veered his mount to the left just in time to avoid a large stone slamming into the track just ahead of him. Vell looked over his shoulder again and saw a large wooden cart mounted with a trebuchet. How he had missed that earlier, Vell didn’t know.

“I wasn’t aware we were going full Wacky Races,” Vell said. “I would’ve brought a lasso.”

Vell dodged another incoming boulder and tried to plan his next move.

“They seem to be aiming at you,” Leanne said.

“Neat! Any idea how to have them, uh, not do that?”

“Steer towards me,” Leanne said. Vell complied, and Leanne hustled a bit to catch up with his slight lead. The next time the trebuchet team launched a boulder, Leanne launched herself, jumping skyward to intercept. With a swing of her arms, Leanne spiked the boulder like a volleyball and sent it hurtling right back towards the source, turning the trebuchet team into the toothpick team. Leanne landed and got back into her stride, catching up to Vell in short order.

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

“So, uh, are we working together or not?”

“I’m still going to beat you, Vell, but I’m not going to let you get hit by a fucking boulder,” Leanne said.

“Makes sense. Also, swap places with me, dude on your right has a sword.”

Leanne ducked and rolled under the robot horse as Vell weaved to the right. The armored kart racer on the right swung a long sword, and Vell caught it with the head of the robot horse. Harley’s sturdy construction held, and the blade shattered on the horse’s forehead. The equally sturdy robotic hooves then kicked the kart’s wheels, sending it skidding off the race track and into the ocean that bordered it.

“Did I miss a memo about a medieval theme this year?” Vell asked. “That’s two in a row.”

“That guy’s definitely not,” Leanne said, pointing just ahead of them. They were rapidly catching up to a goggles-wearing lunatic in a leather vest, sitting astride a mechanical spider that was spewing a cloud of steam into the air.

“Looks like the dynamic duo is catching up to...to…” Kraid paused briefly and retrieved the notes he had tossed aside. “Venrich Gearworthy and his Amazing Auto-Gyro Spider? Where the fuck do they find these people?”

The Amazing Auto-Gyro Spider proved to be slightly less amazing than the name would suggest. Vell and Leanne waited for it to do anything of interest. The pilot apparently noticed their anticipation and took a quick break from shoveling coal to shout in their direction.

“Just building up steam pressure,” he said. “Once this beauty hit’s four-hundred PSI, you’re going to be doomed!”

In response, Vell reached up and turned a valve on the Spider’s back, releasing a massive burst of steam. The Auto-Gyro Spider slowed to a crawl, as Vell and Leanne continued racing ahead.

“Come on, guys,” Gearworthy whined. “Do you have any idea how expensive all this brass is?”

They didn’t. They also didn’t hear much of Gearworthy’s whining as they once again focused on outpacing one another, and on the obstacles ahead. The track’s single loop de loop loomed large overhead, taunting them to challenge conventional physics to overcome it on foot.

“Any chance our uneasy truce extends to helping each other with the loop?” Vell asked.

“Well, we are loopers, so...no!”

Leanne broke into a full sprint, pulling ahead of Vell as they closed in on the loop. Vell whipped the reins and picked up the pace as well.

“For the record,” Vell shouted at her. “I was asking for your sake.”

He reached down to the side of the robot horse’s neck, pressing down on a small panel. Vell had been slightly smug up to this point, but then he remembered exactly how Harley had chosen to install this particular feature. He sighed deeply as the horses tail lifted slightly.

“This was Harley’s idea!” Vell shouted, just before the rocket in the robot horse’s butt fired.

The rocket powered fart did it’s job, at least. The short burst of inertia kept the mechanical hooves of the horse firmly planted on the ground as Vell went through the loop. Vell staying on the back of said horse, on the other hand, came down to his surprisingly strong thighs. Saddles didn’t come with seatbelts, after all.

“Nice grip,” Leanne said.

“What- How did you get through the loop?”

“Ran fast,” Leanne said. “Just like this.”

Kicking up a cartoonish cloud of dust as she suddenly burst forward, Leanne shot down the racetrack like a cannonball, waving goodbye to Vell as she did so.

“So how’s the lead working out for you?” Vell asked.

“Cocky isn’t a good look on you, Vell Harlan,” Leanne shouted. “Now help me with this fucking octopus.”

Having taken the lead over Vell, Leanne had eventually found herself face to face with one of the other racers. Specifically the marine biology department, which was piloting a gigantic mechanical octopus on wheels down the racetrack. In her attempt to pass it, Leanne had been caught up in one of the tentacles, alongside several other racers. Michaela and Michael Watkins kept as many racers entangled as possible, to eliminate the competition wherever they could. While Leanne would normally have just kicked their stupid robot octopus apart, one of the tendrils had snatched her by the arm, and she couldn’t get proper leverage to destroy it while dangling.

“I’ll do what I can,” Vell shouted. He kept his distance from the roboctopus and tried to look for an angle of approach. Unfortunately, the circular nature of octopus anatomy meant there was a tentacle everywhere. Vell pulled back and, in a decidedly, uncowboyish move, pulled out his cell phone.

“Hey Harley.”

“Shouldn’t you be racing right now, Mr. Harlan?”

“Yeah, I’ll get right back to it,” Vell said. “Just, uh, tell me how to deal with an octopus.”

“Have you tried inviting it to movie night?”

“Very funny, Harley,” Vell said. “Seriously, I know you can see this thing. It’s like thirty feet wide.”

“Hold on a bit, I’ll have a better view of it when you come around the corner,” Harley said. From her seat in the stands, she craned her neck to look at one of the viewing screens for the further portions of the racetrack. As the mechanical octopus came into view, she nodded thoughtfully and stroked her chin a few times.

“Uh huh, uh huh, just what I thought,” she mumbled to herself. Then she returned her focus to the call with Vell. “Go between the second and third tentacle on the left and have the horse kick that big metal panel.”

“Will do,” Vell said. He was beyond the point of questioning Harley’s proficiency with machines now. “Thanks Harls.”

“Anything to help a friend and mess with the marine biologists,” Harley said. “Good luck, Vell! Hope you beat Leanne!”

Vell hung up the phone and tucked it back into his pocket as he swerved the robot horse into position. He ducked under one swinging tendril and leaped over another as he got into position. With a quick pull of the reins, the horse reared up and kicked with it’s hind legs, leaving two hoofprints in the metal panel.

The single impact set off a chain reaction within the machine. Interior components started to snap and ping like metallic popcorn, and the entire robo-octopus rattled as it’s insides collapsed. The bulbous metal head shook once, and a single screw popped loose from within.

In one mighty puff of metal dust, every individual component of the octopus separated, turning the once mighty machine into a cloud of scrap metal. Michaela and Michael Watkins were left sitting on a threadbare frame and four bare wheels as their engine fell out from below them.

“This is your fault,” Michael grumbled.

While they argued, Leanne fell. Without the octopus tendril holding her aloft, she, and all the other racers, plummeted downwards. While the vehicles crashed into the ground, cracking their metal frames, Leanne landed on her side and rolled into a handspring. Within seconds, she was on her feet, and sprinting alongside Vell once again.

“Nice landing.”

“Thanks,” Leanne said. “I used to do cheerleading.”

Vell tightened his grip on the reins and tried to keep his face forward. Despite his best efforts, Leanne noticed his reaction.

“You’re imagining me in a cheerleader uniform right now, huh?”

“I’m trying very hard not to and it’s, uh, only mostly working,” Vell said. For both their sakes, he changed the subject. “So are we like, officially a team now, or what?”

“I’m still going to beat you,” Leanne repeated. “But I’m willing to team up for a while. Just until we get rid of all these weirdos who keep trying to mess with us.”

“Sure,” Vell said. “On the note of weirdos, do you hear music?”

Leanne nodded. The booming music, which seemed to be coming from behind them, was getting louder, and closer. The two looked over their shoulders and saw a large, mobile rack of massive speakers surging forward down the racetrack. The duo veered to the side of the track to put some room between themselves and the rock truck.

The massive vehicle closed the gap, and the booming music reached a climax just as it rolled up alongside them. A guitarist standing astride the truck’s roof, sandwiched between the massive speakers, stepped forward and waved in their direction during the brief musical interlude.

“Hey dudes,” he said. “Dig the horse!”

“Oh, thanks,” Vell said. “Nice guitar.”

“Just to be clear, you’re not going to try and kill us with some kind of sonic weapon, are you?”

“Nah, I’m not down for that Mad Max shit everyone in this race seems to want to do,” the guitarist said. “Though I guess I am kind of dressed like a Mad Max character.”

“Yeah, sort of why I asked,” Leanne said.

“My guitar doesn’t shoot fire, though,” the guitarist assured them. “I’m just here to rock and roll, you know?”

“Cool.”

“Any requests, you two?”

“You know anything by Roxy and the Boosters?” Leanne asked.

“Nah, man, that chick’s wicked overrated,” the guitarist said. He’d barely finished the sentence before Leanne ran over to the side of his truck and kicked it so hard all the wheels flew off. As his truck skidded to a halt on the racetrack, Leanne and Vell shared a knowing nod. He’d deserved that.

“And it seems that out foot racers have just cruelly attacked the fan favorite...music guy, I forget his name,” Kraid announced. “Somebody should probably eliminate them for that, right Yes Man?”

“Yes, sir.”

“See, the lobotomite has my back,” Kraid said. “Seriously, somebody kick those two off the track or something.”

Vell and Leanne looked to their left, at a single racer in a souped-up go kart. He shrugged at them.

“Anyone who eliminates them gets twenty thousand dollars,” Kraid added.

The go karter turned sharply in Leanne’s direction. She sighed.