The garage was quiet. It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, pressing against Leo's ears like the weight of deep water. He stood by the open pod, his legs shaking so much he had to lean against the cold carbon fiber hull just to stay upright.
The air in the room felt thick, real, and strangely scented. It wasn't the sterile, digital air of Monaco; the smell of grease, floor wax, and the faint, metallic tang of the cooling fans.
He felt dizzy. The floor seemed to tilt beneath his feet, a lingering effect of the lateral G-forces he had been fighting for a hundred laps. His brain was still trying to adjust to the present situation.
"One step at a time," he whispered to himself. His voice sounded like gravel hitting a tin roof.
