Install Steam
login
|
language
简体中文 (Simplified Chinese)
繁體中文 (Traditional Chinese)
日本語 (Japanese)
한국어 (Korean)
ไทย (Thai)
Български (Bulgarian)
Čeština (Czech)
Dansk (Danish)
Deutsch (German)
Español - España (Spanish - Spain)
Español - Latinoamérica (Spanish - Latin America)
Ελληνικά (Greek)
Français (French)
Italiano (Italian)
Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
Magyar (Hungarian)
Nederlands (Dutch)
Norsk (Norwegian)
Polski (Polish)
Português (Portuguese - Portugal)
Português - Brasil (Portuguese - Brazil)
Română (Romanian)
Русский (Russian)
Suomi (Finnish)
Svenska (Swedish)
Türkçe (Turkish)
Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
Українська (Ukrainian)
Report a translation problem

Palestinian Territory, Occupied
“It is my job to ensure that Islam proliferates throughout the west. Christianity is the religion of soy whereas Islam is a divine warrior culture alhamdulillah”.
“I shall aid you by whatever means necessary, Mr. Verstappen”.
He looked at me and grinned slightly.
I turned on the radio in his racing car. A Kate Bush song started to play. Verstappen began to grimace. His arms spasmed and contracted.
“Quick! Pull onto the hard shoulder!” I yelled.
Verstappen swerved the racing car to the right but no hard shoulder was to be seen. The two of us blacked out.
(to be continued)
I sat with Verstappen in silence for a few minutes as he manoeuvred out of the parking lot and onto the nearest smart motorway. The bleak strip of road continued on for many miles as the dystopian digital signs that hung overhead diverted us between lanes.
“Back at Tesco. You called me The Formula One. Do you understand where that name comes from?”
“No”, you responded.
“My real name is Max “The Martian” Verstappen. I was sent back to your era from the year 2163 by the Inverted-Y defence forces”.
(to be continued)