(Location: Johannesburg, South Africa | Time: Early 1992)
Life was a gradual process of calibration. Tom, the reincarnated racer, approached his new existence like an engineer fine-tuning a complex machine – albeit a machine that smelled faintly of baby powder and occasionally required burping. His primary sensors – eyes, ears, hands – were coming online, slowly sharpening their focus on the world around him.
The 'Track Moving Object with Eyes' objective became his obsession during waking hours. Initially, the world was a smear of impressionistic colour. But day by day, guided by the System's objective hovering in his mental display, Tom forced his infant eyes to focus. He tracked the slow rotation of the animal mobile above his cot, followed Elena's face as she moved around the room, traced the path of dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun filtering through the window. It was mentally taxing, demanding a level of concentration that often resulted in him simply passing out, much to his own annoyance.
[Objective Progress: Track Moving Object with Eyes (Consistent) - 78% Complete]
The System logged his efforts impassively. That 78% felt like a hard-won victory. His vision was undeniably improving. The blurry shapes resolved into clearer forms: the gentle curve of his mother's smile, the intricate patterns on his blanket, the concerned frown on his father James' face as he peered into the cot, perhaps wondering why his son stared so intently at seemingly nothing.
Auditory input was next. The world was noisy. Before, it was a wall of undifferentiated sound. Now, Tom began to isolate threads. Elena's singing voice, James' deeper tones on the phone (often mentioning "latency" and "server load"), the rhythmic clatter of the neighbour's lawnmower, the distant bark of a dog. The System didn't seem to have an explicit objective for sound differentiation yet, but Tom practiced anyway, trying to pinpoint the direction and nature of each noise. He couldn't help but feel this foundational sensory training would be crucial later – differentiating engine notes, identifying tyre scrub, pinpointing rivals in his blind spots.
Then came the hands. The 'Grip Object (Intentional)' objective coincided with the introduction of rattles, soft blocks, and the irresistible lure of grabbing onto adult fingers. The initial reflex was strong but uncontrolled. Tom focused, channelling his will. Close fist. Hold. Don't let go. He'd grasp his mother's finger, concentrating fiercely, feeling the warmth and texture, the System logging the duration and perceived intent.
[Objective Complete: Track Moving Object with Eyes (Consistent)]
[Reward: 0.1 SP Awarded]
[Current SP: 0.2]
Another small victory. He was making progress, albeit at a glacial pace compared to mastering a new circuit in the simulator.
His efforts didn't go unnoticed. "He's getting so strong!" Elena would exclaim as he gripped her finger tightly. "And so alert! Look how he follows you with his eyes, James."
James would nod, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Good reflexes. Needs to build up that core strength though." Tom internally scoffed; if only his father knew the 'reflex training' involved hours of dedicated mobile-staring.
Sometimes, Elena would bundle him into a pram for walks in their lush garden or the nearby park. These excursions were a sensory explosion. The bright Highveld sun (making him squint, Durability stat maybe?), the scent of jasmine and newly cut grass, the rush of wind, the chorus of unfamiliar bird calls. The System seemed to passively log this data, occasionally flashing notifications like:
[Environmental Data Acquired: Ambient Temperature 24°C, Humidity 55%, Wind Speed 5 km/h]
[New Auditory Signatures Logged: Hadeda Ibis Call, Urban Traffic Mix]
It felt like the System was building a database of his environment, perhaps for future skill calibration related to weather or location awareness.
Weeks crawled by. Head lifting became routine. Gripping was now reliably intentional. He finally managed to clumsily bat at and hold onto a colourful rattle.
[Objective Complete: Grip Object (Intentional)]
[Reward: 0.1 SP Awarded]
[Current SP: 0.3]
More objectives appeared, equally mundane, equally crucial: 'Roll Over (Assisted)', 'Support Weight on Arms', 'Babbling (Proto-Language Practice)'. Each successful completion added another tiny fraction to his SP total. The grind was immense, the rewards minuscule. He found himself missing the instant gratification of a perfect simulated lap, the thrill of a close virtual race. This was real life, stripped back to its absolute biological framework.
One afternoon, after successfully completing the 'Roll Over (Unassisted)' objective (a surprisingly strenuous affair that involved much grunting and awkward flailing), his SP counter finally ticked over a significant, if small, milestone.
[SP Accumulated: 1.0]
[System Notification: Stat Allocation Unlocked (Basic)]
[Tooltip: System Points (SP) can now be allocated to improve core stats. Cost increases with stat level. Current Costs: Durability (1 SP per point), Stamina (1 SP per point), Reflexes (1.5 SP per point). Choose wisely, Driver.]
One point. He had one single System Point. He could add +1 to Durability or Stamina, or save up for a Reflex boost. It wasn't much, but it was the first time the System had offered him a tangible way to improve his biological hardware, not just complete developmental tasks.
He looked at his options, displayed crisply in his mind. Durability felt important for surviving future crashes. Reflexes were the bedrock of any racing driver. But Stamina... Stamina dictated how long he could maintain focus, how quickly he recovered from exertion. Right now, his 'training' sessions left him utterly drained. Extending those sessions, being able to practice focusing, gripping, or attempting to crawl for longer periods, felt like the most immediate bottleneck.
With a focused mental command, Tom allocated his first, hard-earned point.
[Allocate 1.0 SP to Stamina? Confirm Y/N]
Y.
[Allocation Confirmed. Stamina increased: 1 -> 2]
[Current SP: 0.0]
He didn't feel instantly stronger or more energetic. But the number had changed. He had taken his first active step in tuning his new body. It was a tiny adjustment, calibrating one internal dial by a single digit.
Lying there, listening to the distant sounds of Johannesburg traffic, Tom felt a renewed sense of purpose. Every sight, every sound, every movement, every frustrating baby limitation – it was all data, all training, all part of the slowest, most fundamental setup process imaginable. He was calibrating his sensors, building his base stats, point by excruciating point. The road to Formula 1 was impossibly long, but he finally had his hands on the steering wheel, even if he could barely lift his own head yet.