Formula 1: The GOAT

“Can we sue them?” Fatih asked, his voice small but firm, as he broke the hug with his mother.

Rümeysa looked down at her son, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “We can,” she began, her lawyer’s mind immediately assessing the situation, “but our chances of winning are very slim. The clause they used to terminate the scholarship agreement is notoriously difficult to prove against in court. The legal battle would be long, arduous, and expensive, and the compensation we might receive at the end of it all would likely be less than the legal fees. It also risks them sabotaging you during the season, causing you to have bad performances that they could then use as additional evidence for their case. And even if we were to catch them doing it, by the time the case is over, they would have already derailed your first season, meaning it would have been a better choice to just quit now and wait for the next one.”

She paused, a small, wry smile touching her lips. “But, thanks to them being the ones who terminated the agreement, it means that they have waived their right to any financial restitution for the expenses they incurred during the scholarship period.” She then caught herself, realizing she had used very difficult words for her son to understand.

But to her surprise, Fatih looked at her as if he had understood every word. Her suspicion was proven to be true when he asked his follow-up question, his voice sharp and direct. “What about my sponsorship with Aslan? Are we the ones who have to repay the amount he has already spent?”

Hiding her surprise at his targeted questions, and at the dawning realization that her son was far smarter than she had ever suspected, she answered, “We are fine on that part. The agreement stated that if *we* were the ones to terminate it before a certain amount was spent by the sponsor, then we would not have to repay the spent amount, but in return, we would not be able to have a new sponsor until the next season.” She deliberately used more complicated lingo this time, testing to see if he would understand that way of speaking as well.

“Understood,” Fatih said, his gaze unwavering. “I will do my best to not waste your support.” He knew that his behavior during this conversation was effectively shattering the childish pretense he had maintained for so long, but he went ahead with it. The situation was too complicated, and if he wanted to understand it fully, he needed to be serious. It seemed to have worked, but there was no going back now. To revert to his childish act would only raise more flags.

“You don’t have to worry about that and put pressure on yourself,” Rümeysa said, hugging him again, a pang of guilt in her chest. She wondered if her being away at work for so long was the reason he had been forced to mature so early.

After a long, comforting hug, she broke it off and got up, walking to the door. She paused, turning back to Fatih. “Oh, and we are going to visit some schools starting Wednesday.”

“Isn’t it early?” Fatih asked in surprise.

“Just because school starts in September doesn’t mean everything is done then,” she explained. “Applications start from this month all the way to September, and the earlier we do it, the easier the process will be for us.” She waved at him and left the room.

The moment his mother left, Fatih immediately entered a state of deep contemplation, taking his time to absorb and digest the situation in its entirety. He replayed the events in his mind, from the disastrous meeting to his mother now having to shoulder all the costs of his remaining championship season.

“Money is really the only true ally for anyone who wants to be in motorsport for long,” he said to himself, the harsh reality of the situation crystallizing in his mind. All of these problems, all of this political maneuvering, was because the one they were attempting to discipline had a father with money.

Motorsport was a fertile ground for those with money to get what they wanted. It was a field that burned through cash faster than the fuel they used during a race. If you had money, you could have what you wanted with very little talent, so long as the money kept flowing. Even Formula 1, the so-called peak of motorsport, was not immune. In every era, there was at least one rich kid taking a seat that a more talented driver could have had, simply because their family provided the funding or brought in the sponsors.

As a result of this experience, a seed was planted in his mind: the absolute necessity of having his own money, of having the financial security to never be in this position again, where he either had to compromise and accept a bad situation, or take a hard stance and be forced to wait on the sidelines for a whole season.

“Shouldn’t it be easy for you to make money with your memories?” Apollo asked, materializing in front of him, his form taking a seat in the chair in front of the computer.

“Since I wasn’t very interested in things related to finance, my information regarding it is limited to things that went so viral they breached the finance bubble and reached me,” Fatih answered, trying to recall any other major incidents. “I only remember a few major events: GameStop, Nvidia’s rise, Tesla, the COVID crash and rebound, Bitcoin’s increasing value, India’s leverage weakness, and the rest of the cryptocurrency bubble. But other than that, I know nothing. And among those, other than Bitcoin’s constant rise and fall, all the rest are things that start happening in 2020 or later.”

“But aren’t those things enough to make you a billionaire, if you know how to make money?” Apollo asked, tilting his head with a look that said, ’Shouldn’t that be enough for your endeavor? What more do you want?’

“That is just the theoretical gain I can earn,” Fatih explained, his mind already working through the problem. “And that is only if I know how to extract the maximum return from them in the first place. I will need to study finance first and come up with a plan that will squeeze all of these opportunities dry, because once they are gone, there is no way for me to make that kind of windfall money ever again. Also, that money is just a potential earning; it’s not in my hand at the moment.

Only the Bitcoin I’m mining might provide some liquidity during this period, but the market is still at a nearly nonexistent level of small. I’m better off trying to accumulate more of them now, to allow for withdrawals when I need cash, but also to leave behind a large holding for when I have the opportunity to exploit my memories for other ventures with higher returns.” He knew from the movies he had watched, where words like ’options’ and ’puts’ were used, that simply buying shares was the way for him to benefit the least from these situations. There were most likely other avenues that would allow for 10,000% returns, if not more.

“How about gambling?” Apollo asked.

“That is a viable way to make money, but at the moment, I don’t see a way to convince Mom to trust me to gamble,” Fatih replied. “Whose parents would want their son to enter the world of gambling at such a young age, anyway? Though I can prove that my predictions are more than just predictions and are near-certainties, I’m better off doing it on my own when I have my own money, rather than having to put her in that situation.”

Though he didn’t know it, a seed of self-reliance and a reduced trust in others had already been planted, something that would influence his future in motorsport. It was also the start of his mind subconsciously thinking about creating something that would turn the motorsport world upside down in the future.

And with that seed, there was also a change in his attitude. Although he had already been about fighting for everything, now an additional reason, with similar importance to the SP, was added. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure his mother’s investment in him was not going to be a waste.

As if his subconscious thoughts spilled into his conscious actions, he immediately got onto the bed and logged into the Simulation. Apollo promptly followed him as they continued their ongoing practice of how to fight aggressive drivers. But now, Fatih had the knowledge that Selçuk’s aggressive driving was going to be cranked up to eleven, now that he had realized his father was going to be backing him no matter what he did, so long as he showed a “fighting spirit.”

The days started going by fast. Wednesday arrived, and he started visiting different schools with his mother, preparing for his first school year in September, by which time the championship would already be over.

Despite his scholarship getting terminated, he continued going to the academy for practice. His trainer still remained Burak, who had promised him that he would continue being his teacher after expressing his displeasure with the situation. This was done in conjunction with his mother buying him a completely new kart, which was handed over to Burak for storage at the academy. It would be used for the remaining days of the competition, allowing for ease of transportation and services through the academy, for which Rümeysa now paid, just like the other students who were not on scholarships but were still competing under the academy’s umbrella.

And it wasn’t long before the next championship round arrived.