Grand Prix Wizard

CHAPTER FOUR: TEAM HEADQUARTERS

Silverstone Racing Circuit is located largely in Northamptonshire, on a former World War II bomber base. An uplands county in the midlands, Northampton was once very important in the timber trade. However, it's most important modern day claims to fame seem to be the fact that it touches more counties than any other shire in England, and of course, the Grand Prix circuit.

Silverstone is the oldest Formula One circuit still in use. First used in 1948, it actually hosted the initial "recognized" Grand Prix of the modern era, in 1950; a race won by Italian wizard Giuseppe Farina driving an Alfa Romeo. Virtually every notable formula one driver has a win at Silverstone, including Fangio, Clark, Stewart, Senna, Prost and Schumacher. The only Australian ever to win there was Jack Brabham, and the only US driver to win at Silverstone was Peter Revson, heir of a North American potions manufacturer.

This last is important to the history of Phantom Racing. Revson won at Silverstone in 1973 in a McLaren, and the next year switched to the team run by Don Nickels' relative. Those solid black cars were known as "Shadows". While testing in South Africa, Revson's Shadow suffered a suspension failure, and he was killed in the resulting crash. Over the ensuing years, a great number of things happened to Shadow, many of them bad. The team went through many name changes, owner changes, and location changes, but if one follows the genealogy back far enough, it seems that Phantom Racing is the direct descendant of that team. Something of a co-incidence, then, that the team headquarters is just outside the gates of Silverstone.

The owl Jimmy Potter received from Nickels asked him to arrive at the shop at ten in the morning. The main purpose was to begin the process of fitting him to the car, but of course, it also provided an opportunity for Jimmy to meet the team members.

Jimmy and his grandfather were met in the lobby by Don Nickels. "Welcome to Phantom!" Nickels spread out his arms, then extended his hand. "We're so glad to have both of you. We think this is going to be an outstanding collaboration. It's rare for a new team to enjoy any success in this sport. You know that as well as we do. But we have high hopes, more resources than most, and we have you!"

"I believe your solicitors and ours have both vetted the contracts, and I have them here for you signatures. That should be the first order of business," Nickels added.

"I would like you to meet Miss Victoria Bailey, our office manager." A cheerful young woman in her mid-twenties stepped forward. She was dressed very professionally in a business suit. "Vicky does everything here. She writes our press releases, manages our public relations, handles all our correspondence, makes our travel arrangements, and keeps us all on schedule. Her assistant, Betsy Ludwig, answers the phones, sorts the mail, does the basic bookkeeping and scheduling." A curly haired blond gave Jimmy a shy smile.

"Vicky, if you and Betz could show James and Arthur around the front office, and then bring them to the conference room, I'd appreciate it." Nickels took a step towards his office. "I have one sponsor obligation to fulfill, then I will be with you the rest of the day. Girls, maybe you can find them some tea or coffee?"

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, this way if you please," said the perky brunette. "This first office is Mr. Howard, our accountant. Next to him is Mr. Dictarow, our lead solicitor. You'll actually be meeting him in a few minutes. This next room is the design center," she said, pointing out a very large glass-enclosed area full of drafting tables and computers. "You have no doubt heard of Mr. Tony Dowe, our Chief Designer?"

"Oh sure," Arthur said. "I've always admired the simple elegance of that championship car he did for McLaren." Arthur clearly would have liked to linger here, but Betsy was following behind, and motioned for the group to continue.

"Well, we're hoping for even more from our current engineering and management staff," Vicky said, giving Arthur a meaningful glance.

"Next is our Chief Engineer, Dr. Jay Huffman." A smallish, balding man, wearing black-rimmed glasses, spun around in his chair.

"Ahh...the brilliant young Mr. Potter! And Mr. Weasley, too! What a wonderful surprise. You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to working with the two of you. The AI is almost ready..." Dr. Huffman gestured towards his computer... "and you will meet the car this afternoon. She's looking forward to it as much as I am."

By 2027, the greatest advances in Formula One technology were in the areas of artificial intelligence. In all racing below the level of Grand Prix, cars were controlled in a more-or-less traditional fashion: Gas pedal, brakes, gear choices, steering wheel, engine management systems, and a few major in-cockpit adjustments.

However, in Grand Prix cars, computer control of the many complex systems had evolved into a very sophisticated form of artificial intelligence, directly linked to the driver. In fact, the ability of a driver to communicate effectively with his car had become just as important as his ability to feel cornering and braking limits. In a sense, a driver could "think" his way around a circuit, and help the computer controlling the car's systems maximize every variable.

"I'm looking forward to it as well, Dr. Huffman. Obviously, I've never interacted with a Formula One car before. It will be a new learning experience." If there was anything Jimmy was nervous about in making the transition from GP2 to GP1, it was this process of blending with the artificial intelligence. While he knew it was not the same, Jimmy had always thought of this process as being similar to Legilimency. As an expert Occlumens, Jimmy was concerned that he might instinctively resist the process, block the car from invading his mind at a critical moment.

"Indeed it will, James, indeed it will." Dr. Huffman stretched himself up to his full height, five-foot-two. "Of course, full AI has only been possible at this level for the past two years. If you'll pardon my boasting, I think I may be six months to a year ahead of the others. Tony and I are not sure if we have the best car, but we think we have the best AI in the series. Today, we'll begin the process of proving it."

"Doctor, I need to get them to the conference room now," said Vicky. She was beginning to get a bit annoyed with Huffman's bragging. It would be nice, she thought, if he could prove what he was saying before he opened his mouth. Of course, like everyone else working there, she hoped he was right.

Vicky led Jimmy and Arthur back towards the front of the building. Like most race shops, Phantom was a large steel hanger-like building. Many teams had originally located at Silverstone because some of the old bomber hangers could be used as race shops. Over time, all of them had been torn down and replaced by arch-truss pre-fabricated barns. Two or three such structures could be connected together to make a large and functional space. In the case of Phantom, a good sized structure had been built of black granite and tinted windows in front of three steel structures. These had recently been painted a dark British Racing Green, and the Wizard Products logo was painted in gold on all four sides of the building.

The facility sat on an enormous paved area that backed up nearly all the way to the racing circuit. While it was nominally a parking lot, it had been paved in such a way, and instrumented, so that it could be used as a skid pad. A short connector road allowed the team to take a car directly from the shop onto the Silverstone circuit on testing days. In trade for access to testing time on the circuit, the team allowed the British Race Drivers Club (who promote the Grand Prix) to use the lot for parking on race weekends.

The conference room sat in the very front of the office structure, cooled by the reflective dark window glass. The carpet was a dark forest green, with gold WP logos woven in. The walls were a dark golden oak paneling, as was the substantial furniture. Jimmy's attention was immediately grabbed by a large painting on the wall opposite the main windows. It was a watercolor. Off a mottled dark green background, a white mask, solid, plastic, with two eye holes and a nose surround was rendered. Through one eye hole passed the stem of a red rose.

"What's that for?" Jimmy asked. It was an odd painting. Surprisingly stark and avant-garde, yet very emotional.

"That has been with me a very long time," Don Nickels said as he entered the room. "That is the Phantom Racing logo. As you look around the room, and our facility, you will see that our sponsors get the lion's share of recognition. That logo is my one connection to the past, and all our cars carry that on the nose."

"It's actually quite beautiful," Arthur said. "Almost too nice for a racing car."

"I quite agree," Nickels said. "But as I said, it's been with me for a very long time. There's some very old magic in that painting, and it's quite symbolic of the way our company frequently rises from the ashes, just like your own Phoenix outfit."

"Now, if all of us are ready, I believe we have some paperwork to complete. This is Steven Dictarow, our company lawyer. He has met several times with your own solicitors, and these contracts are those approved in principle by both parties. Steve?"

"Yes, Don, James, Arthur. Pleased to meet you two." Dictarow was a very short, overweight man sporting a large nose and very black hair. His skin was naturally dark. His smile was broad, but Arthur was reminded of photos of sharks; Dictarow never let anyone see his teeth.

As the documents were passed around, Jimmy and Arthur noted that they had been countersigned and sealed by their own attorneys. "You'll notice we have taken you up on that option to eventually build the race shop at your place," Dictarow noted. "If everything works out well this year, construction would begin in the winter, you would retain ownership of the facility in the event we split up, and you would be paid a generous lease fee for each season Phantom Racing uses the new facility."

"That's perfect," Arthur said. "From what you said earlier, Don, I wasn't expecting this existing facility to be as nice as it is."

"It's just a touch outdated, Arthur. We have to jury-rig some of our equipment because the building wasn't designed to handle it. We are not pre-wired for computer networking. And we don't have our own moving surface wind tunnel here; we will in the new building."

Since everyone was satisfied with the contracts, signing was a formality. When all the I's and T's had been dotted and crossed, Vicky brought four more people into the room, along with trays of sandwiches and tea.

"Jimmy, you already met Jay Huffman. This is Tony Dowe, your designer."

"Pleasure!"

"These two gentlemen, Arthur, will be of extreme interest to you as team manager. They are your lead mechanics, Franz Weiss and Troy Rodgers."

"Gentlemen. An honor," Arthur Weasley said as he looked over the two men he would be managing, the two men who would be entrusted with his grandson's life.

"Looking forward to workin' with you, Mr. Weasley; really lookin' forward to it," said Weiss.

"You did a heckofa job for Jimmy last year, sir. We hope we can serve you as well as AVS managed," added Rodgers, moving his eyes from Jimmy to Arthur and back again. "After lunch, we'll be meetin' up with the both of you in the shop, and we'll get goin' on makin' Jimmy's seat."

"And I think Dr. Huffman wants to make the initial helmet fitting, and see how the connections work out. Maybe give the AI a sniff of you. That's always the big adjustment. If we can get you and the computer talkin' to one another early on, it's a whole lot easier to get the car adjusted right out of the box," Weiss laughed.

"Jimmy, you like left-foot braking, don't you," Dowe asked as he looked down in the notebook had had brought into the room.

"Yeah, sure. I'm a trail-braker. King of the late brakers, the karters all called me."

"Good, good! I put the pedal on the left, and a dead pedal, and no clutch." Dowe checked off a couple more items on his list.

"That'll work just fine for me, Tony, as soon as we get the placements adjusted properly. I like a little room between the pedals so I don't drag the brakes by accident when I move my foot." Jimmy took another sandwich from the tray.

"Understood," Dowe replied, pouring himself a bit more tea and adding a dollop of milk. "Now, you like the shifter paddles low, not high, correct?

"Yes, I like to use the bottom three fingers of each hand on the paddles. I know more guys prefer the top two fingers, and high placement, but I like my thumb and index finger around the wheel at all times. It's just a habit I picked up in the karts."

"Easily doable," Dowe said with a laugh. "What we'll do as soon as we're all done eating is go back to the shop. We've got a mule setup, and we'll get you sitting in it while we move the pedals and the steering wheel until you are relatively comfortable. Then we'll cast the seat."

"Once the seat is actually made and installed, you'll come back and we'll go through the process with the pedals and wheel once more to account for any changes the seat makes in your position, and then we should be able to finalize the cockpit capsule."

With lunch finished, the engineers and mechanics led Jimmy to the work area. The factory was brightly lit, and scrupulously clean. Everything was completely organized into work bays, all of which either had a specific purpose during car construction, or were dedicated to each completed car in the team. At the moment, there were no cars, only mules. A mule is a construction jig, a framework of aluminum rods and connections that is almost infinitely adjustable within the limits of a box built to the maximum dimensions allowed by the rules.

By working within the framework of the mule, the team could tentatively assemble the various components of the car without exceeding the size restrictions. The basic elements of a Formula One racecar are the engine, which will take a certain amount of length, width and height, and the "tub" where the fuel is carried. The driver sits in a survival capsule cockpit within the tub. All the other systems, including bodywork, aerodynamics, suspension, and wheels, are hung off the engine or tub.

The seat is the starting point for the survival capsule. In order to make the driver as comfortable as possible for about two-and-one-half hours, he needs to be held firmly in place and given some cushioning. The seat, the safety harness, and a roll-over system, all work together to protect the driver in an accident, so the seat must be snug and offer the correct support.

This is accomplished in a way that would seem almost ridiculous to outsiders. The largest possible plastic trash bag is spread out inside a tub structure that approximates the size of the capsule. The bag is filled with a foaming liquid plastic material which sets up into a solid after about 30 minutes. This material is rather like the foam inside a seat cushion, but more solid. As soon as the liquid has foamed up and begun to set, the driver sits down in the tub form and starts wiggling around. The object is to get the foam to mould itself around his legs, butt and lower body. He pushes back into the mould so that the foam squeezes around his ribs and abdomen, and wriggles his legs down into it until they are supported all the way down his knees.

After the foam sets up solid, the mechanics can then trim the excess from the casting. Most of the time, they simply leave the garbage bag molded around the seat, and then cover the whole thing with a non-slip material. They cut slots through the back and bottom through which they pass the belt harness, which is in turn bolted to the metal tub of the finished car. Once the seat is finished, then it can be used to start the mould for the carbon fiber castings that will form the finished tub. In tanks on both sides from approximately the driver's knees on back, to a tank behind the seat, is the fuel. Forward of the drivers knees are the steering and suspension components, as well as the electronics that manage the systems.

As soon as Jimmy was done squishing around in his trash bag, and sitting still for a few minutes while the foam solidified, the mechanics led him to another area of the shop. "Dr. Huffman will be out in a minute," Troy said as he showed Jimmy to a seat beside a work station. On the table was a plain white helmet, connected to a small black box by a long flexible wire. Another wire connected the box to a much larger computer unit that stood at the back of the work area. Jimmy couldn't tell if that machine was further networked in the building, but supposed it was.

"Ahh, good James! I imagine we have you comfortably fitted, at least for the time being. It's just a starting point, you know. We can always make changes later." Dr. Huffman began by picking up the helmet and checking inside, then tugging on the wire to make sure the connection was solid.

"Now, we'll just slip this on. What I want you to do is clear your mind of all thoughts except for who you are, where you come from. You can think about things you like to do, favorite subjects in school, and so on. You might want to reflect a bit on racing, your experiences, and why you are interested in driving. You can go over these things as many times as you like, but please try to stay away from outside distractions and worries."

Huffman slipped the helmet over Jimmy's head. "Move it around until it sits as comfortably as possible," he instructed.

Huffman walked back to the mainframe unit and threw a switch. The small black box on the table lit up. Inside the helmet, Jimmy could suddenly feel some cold, probing sensations. It was, in some ways, as though small needles were trying to work their way through his scalp, but neither hot nor electric, just icy. "Make sure you relax as much as possible, clear your mind, let the unit establish contact," Huffman coached. "It will take five to ten minutes."

Jimmy let his mind wander back to his boyhood days, back to the first time his grandfather had taken him to see a race. Huffman had tried to steer him towards this part of his life, and it was so much a part of him that he couldn't avoid it.

He remembered that race so clearly...a sports car race instead of an open-wheel competition. He remembered that the first thing that had drawn him in had been the colors. The cars were an amazing array of bright paint and decorations. Then there had been the shapes. Sports racing cars always had futuristic bodywork, low and swoopy with elegant fenders over the tires, and fins and wings to manage the air.

And then there was the noise. Actually, all different kinds of noise. The low throaty grumbles of the engines based on production cars. The exotic whines of the engines using turbochargers. The painful scream of the engines using many small cylinders or rotating pistons and high revolutions per minute to make horsepower. All together, they created a symphony of sound, a chorus in perfect pitch and harmony. When you were far enough away, it was impossible to pick out one over another...there was just a buzz. But when you were close, leaning against a fence at the end of straight piece of road, an individual car could come hurtling at you making a sound like a runaway dynamo, growing louder from the Doppler effect as it came closer; then, when it passed, almost allowing you to pick out the individual explosions in each cylinder.

Jimmy had been enthralled. Arthur had gotten paddock passes, and they could walk around before the race and watch as the mechanics worked on the cars. Some drivers were very friendly, especially some of the wizards who Arthur already knew from work. One even let Jimmy sit in the seat of his car. He was hooked.

"Hello, Jimmy." It was not a sound. It was simply something his brain recognized.

"Hello?" Jimmy wondered where this greeting was coming from.

"I am the communication interface for your AI car management system. The first thing we need to do is get acquainted. Would you like to give me a name?"

"I already have one picked out. You'll be Hedwig."

"Hedwig. Yes. I like that. Your father's first owl. I see the memories of the stories in your mind. I will be Hedwig."