The first thing you need to understand about being reborn with full memories of your previous life is that it's absolutely, cosmically unfair to your new parents.
Claire Stroll had just gone through hours of labor to bring me into this world, and instead of being a normal, blissfully unaware newborn, I was a twenty-eight-year-old consciousness trapped in a body that couldn't even control its own neck muscles. I couldn't cry out in existential horror because my vocal cords could only produce generic baby noises. I couldn't explain my situation because language centers in infant brains aren't developed yet. I couldn't even properly see my new parents because newborn vision is notoriously terrible, everything rendered in soft, blurry shapes and muted colors.
All I could do was lie there, aware of everything, capable of understanding nothing about my new circumstances beyond the most basic sensory input.
It was, to put it mildly, deeply unsettling.
The System, apparently, found this hilarious.
[Current Status: Potato Mode Activated]
[Physical Capabilities: Approximately 0.003% of adult capacity]
[Motor Skills: Unable to hold head up, roll over, grasp objects, or perform any action requiring muscular coordination]
[Cognitive Function: Fully operational, unfortunately for you]
[Recommendation: Get used to this. You've got at least 8-10 months before you can even crawl. Think of it as forced meditation. Very, very forced meditation.]
I would have glared at the floating text if I could have focused my eyes properly. Instead, I just lay there in what I assumed were my mother's arms, feeling the gentle swaying motion that all parents seem to instinctively do with newborns, listening to voices speaking in... French?
Right. The Strolls were Belgian and Canadian. French and English. I'd known that from my extensive research during my previous life's hate-following of Lance Stroll. But knowing it academically and actually hearing it as your mother tongue were two very different experiences.
The words washed over me, and I found myself understanding them with perfect clarity despite never having formally learned French in my previous life. Apparently, the baby brain came pre-loaded with language acquisition capabilities that would adapt to whatever I heard. That was something, at least.
"Il est parfait," Claire was saying, her voice thick with emotion. He's perfect.
A deeper voice responded, and I felt a large, warm hand gently touch what I assumed was my head. Lawrence Stroll, I realized. My new father. The billionaire fashion mogul. The man who would eventually buy a Formula 1 team partially to give his son a seat.
The man I'd mocked thousands of times on Twitter for being the embodiment of privilege and nepotism in motorsport.
"He's beautiful, Claire. You did amazing," Lawrence said softly, and there was such genuine love and awe in his voice that I felt a pang of guilt for every nasty comment I'd ever made about their family.
These weren't caricatures or distant public figures anymore. These were real people, my parents now, and they were experiencing one of the most profound moments of their lives while I was internally freaking out about my situation.
[System Note: Feeling guilty yet?]
[That's called empathy. Try to remember this feeling. You're going to need it.]
[Current Emotional State: Overwhelmed, disoriented, experiencing mild existential crisis]
[Recommendation: Stop overthinking and try to act like a normal baby. Crying is acceptable. Pooping yourself is expected. Deep philosophical spiraling is suspicious.]
The System had a point. I needed to get my head together and figure out what exactly my situation was. But that was easier said than done when your body was essentially a flesh prison that didn't respond to any of your commands.
Days began to blur together in a haze of feeding, sleeping, and involuntary bodily functions that I was acutely, humiliatingly aware of. Being a baby with adult consciousness was like being trapped in the world's most elaborate sensory deprivation experiment, except occasionally people would make ridiculous cooing noises at you and you couldn't even tell them to stop.
But slowly, mercifully, the System started to provide something more useful than sarcastic commentary.
[Day 3: Sensory Integration Protocol Initializing]
[Your infant brain is currently forming neural connections at an extraordinary rate. Approximately 1 million per second, actually. I'm going to help optimize this process.]
[Don't worry, this won't hurt. You won't even notice. You'll just find yourself developing faster than normal babies. Nothing suspicious. Definitely won't make you a genius baby who causes people to question reality.]
[Probably.]
I felt something shift in my awareness, like puzzle pieces clicking into place. My vision began to sharpen incrementally, details slowly coming into focus. The blurry shapes resolved into faces—my mother's kind eyes, often tired but always warm when she looked at me; my father's strong features, usually serious except when he smiled at me; and occasionally, a small face belonging to what I realized must be my older sister, Chloe.
She was about five years old, if I remembered the Stroll family history correctly, and she seemed fascinated by me in the way young children are fascinated by new toys.
"Can I hold him?" she asked in French, her voice high and excited.
"Gentle, ma chérie," Claire instructed, carefully positioning Chloe on the couch and helping her support my head. "Just like we practiced with your dolls."
Chloe stared down at me with wide, serious eyes. "Hi, Lance," she whispered. "I'm your big sister. I'm going to teach you everything. Don't worry."
Something twisted in my chest—my new, tiny chest. In my previous life, I'd been an only child. I'd never had a sibling, never experienced that particular kind of family bond. And here was this little girl, already protective of me, already planning to be the best big sister she could be.
I blinked up at her, and apparently that was enough because her face split into a huge grin.
"Maman! He looked at me! He really looked at me!"
[System Note: Congratulations. You've bonded with your sister. Achievement unlocked: Not a Complete Sociopath.]
[Current Status: Less Potato-like]
[New abilities becoming available: Enhanced focus, improved visual processing, accelerated neural pathway formation]
[Warning: Do not demonstrate abilities too far beyond normal infant development. You don't want doctors studying you like a lab specimen.]
Weeks turned into months, and I found myself settling into a routine that was equal parts boring and fascinating. The sheer amount of sleep required by an infant body was staggering—I spent probably eighteen to twenty hours a day unconscious, my brain processing and integrating all the new sensory information even while I slept.
But the hours I was awake became increasingly interesting as the System continued its work.
[Month 2: Motor Control Enhancement Initiated]
[You should be able to hold your head up steadily within the next week. This is about a month ahead of schedule, but not so much that anyone will call the Vatican about a miracle baby.]
[Practice when no one is watching. Think of it like strength training, except the weight you're lifting is your own enormous infant head.]
The System wasn't wrong—baby heads are disproportionately large, and the neck muscles take time to develop. But with its help, I found myself able to hold my head steady during tummy time sessions far earlier than expected. Claire was delighted, praising my strength and coordination. Lawrence joked that I'd be driving karts before I could walk.
If only they knew how right he was.
[Month 3: Grasping Reflex to Voluntary Control Transition Complete]
[You can now intentionally grab objects. Revolutionary, I know. Try not to let this power go to your head.]
[Recommendation: Babies your age are supposed to grab everything and immediately try to eat it. For authenticity's sake, continue this tradition. Yes, even the disgusting things. You're method acting as a baby now.]
I spent hours grabbing at toys, rattles, and anything within reach, partly because it was expected behavior and partly because after months of being unable to control my own hands, the simple act of picking something up felt like a miracle. Chloe would sit with me, handing me different toys and narrating what each one was in both French and English.
"This is a teddy bear," she'd say seriously, placing a soft brown bear in my hands. "Ours en peluche. He's very nice. Don't eat him, okay? He's not food."
I'd inevitably put the teddy bear's ear in my mouth because that's what babies do, and she'd sigh dramatically like I was the most challenging student she'd ever had.
[Month 4: Language Recognition Enhancement Active]
[Your brain is now processing both French and English at native-speaker levels. You won't be able to speak for a while yet—your vocal cords and mouth muscles aren't ready—but you understand everything being said around you.]
[This is actually useful. Adults say a lot of interesting things when they think babies can't understand them. Feel free to gather intelligence on your new family.]
The System was right. I learned that Lawrence was in the middle of complex business negotiations for his fashion empire. That Claire was considering going back to work part-time but wasn't sure about leaving me with a nanny. That Chloe was having trouble with a mean girl at school and was afraid to tell our parents. That the family was planning to spend time at their home in Switzerland over the summer.
I absorbed it all, filing away details about my new life, building a picture of the world I'd been born into.
A world of private jets and multiple homes. Of business deals worth millions of dollars discussed casually over breakfast. Of opportunities that ninety-nine percent of the population would never even dream of having.
All the things I'd criticized from behind a keyboard, calling them unearned, undeserved, meaningless advantages that diluted the purity of motorsport.
[System Note: Having second thoughts about all those tweets yet?]
[It's one thing to criticize privilege from the outside. It's another thing to be born into it and realize these are just people. Flawed, complicated, trying-their-best people.]
[Your father works sixteen-hour days building his business. Your mother gave up her own career to raise her children. Your sister practices piano even though she doesn't like it because she wants to make them proud.]
[Privilege is real. But so is their humanity. Remember that.]
I would have nodded if I could have. The System was teaching me lessons that went far beyond physical development or racing skills. It was forcing me to confront my own prejudices, my own narrow worldview.
[Month 5: Sitting Up Protocol Initiated]
[Time to work on core strength. By next month, you should be able to sit unsupported. This will dramatically increase your quality of life—trust me, lying on your back all day gets old fast.]
[Exercise routine uploaded. Don't worry, it just feels like normal baby movements. Lots of reaching, twisting, pushing up during tummy time. Nobody will suspect you're following a training regimen.]
The next month was spent building the muscles needed to sit independently. It was frustrating, exhausting work, made more difficult by the fact that I had adult expectations trapped in a body that fatigued after minutes of effort. But the System kept me on track, providing encouragement and sarcastic commentary in equal measure.
[Good effort today. Your core strength has increased by approximately 0.8%. At this rate, you'll be ready for Formula 1 in only... let's see... twenty years? Better than your previous life timeline of never.]
[Rest now. Growing is hard work. Your body is literally building itself. Cells are dividing, muscles are forming, bones are ossifying. You're a construction project and the building you're constructing is yourself.]
[Try not to think about that too hard. It gets weird.]
By six months, I could sit up reliably, grab objects with purpose, and was beginning to babble in ways that sounded almost like words. Chloe insisted I'd said "Chloe" once, though I'm pretty sure it was just random sounds that happened to be similar. Still, her excitement was infectious, and I found myself trying to repeat sounds just to see her smile.
[Month 6: Comprehensive Development Assessment]
[Physical Development: Slightly ahead of typical milestones, but within normal range. Good job acting natural.]
[Cognitive Development: Obviously far ahead, but you're keeping it hidden well. The key is to learn eagerly but not impossibly.]
[Social Development: You're bonding appropriately with family members. Your sister loves you. Your parents adore you. You're doing better at this human connection thing than you did in your entire previous life.]
[Emotional Development: Still processing your situation, but adapting well. Less existential crisis, more acceptance. Progress.]
[Now let's talk about what comes next.]
I perked up, or at least I tried to. The System had been mostly focused on helping me develop normally (or slightly above normally) for months now. What came next?
[Age 0-2: Foundation Phase]
[Primary Goal: Develop normally while building optimal physical and neural foundations. Think of this as preparing the hardware before we install the advanced software.]
[Age 2-5: Early Training Phase]
[Primary Goal: Begin introducing basic coordination and motor skills training. Nothing that will raise suspicions, but everything that will give you advantages later. Balance, reflexes, hand-eye coordination—all disguised as normal childhood play.]
[Age 5-8: Serious Preparation Phase]
[Primary Goal: Begin actual racing preparation. Karting, physical training, mental conditioning. This is where we start building the racing driver.]
[Age 8-15: Competition Phase]
[Primary Goal: Dominate karting, transition to single-seaters, begin building your reputation. This is where you prove you're not just another rich kid playing at racing.]
[Age 15+: Professional Phase]
[Primary Goal: Formula 4, Formula 3, Formula 2, Formula 1. The ladder. The dream. Everything you criticized others for, you're going to have to actually do.]
[Think you can handle it?]
I stared at the floating text in my vision, feeling the weight of what was being laid out before me. This wasn't just a second chance at life. This was a complete roadmap to becoming everything I'd claimed I could be, given the opportunity.
The System had said God gave me help. This was it. Not just enhanced development or faster learning, but an actual plan, a guide, something to help me navigate this impossible situation.
[Oh, and one more thing.]
[Remember how God mentioned cooking skills? That's going to kick in around age 3-4, when your fine motor control is developed enough. You're going to have the culinary knowledge of Eishi Tsukasa from Food Wars.]
[Yes, the anime character. No, I don't know why God chose that specifically. Maybe they're a fan? Deity logic is beyond my pay grade.]
[But imagine this: You're going to be a Formula 1 racing driver who can cook at Michelin-star level. That's going to be useful in ways you can't even imagine yet.]
[Trust me on this one.]
I didn't know how to feel about that. On one hand, having an impressive skill outside of racing seemed valuable. On the other hand, learning to cook from an anime character's abilities being magically downloaded into my brain seemed deeply weird even by the standards of my current situation.
But then again, I was a reincarnated Formula 1 Twitter hater being given a second chance by God and guided by a sarcastic AI system, so maybe I'd lost the right to judge what was weird anymore.
[Month 7: Mobility Preparation Protocol]
[Time to start thinking about crawling. This is a big milestone—it represents your first real independent movement. Your first real freedom in this new life.]
[We're going to take it slow, build the strength properly, make sure you don't hurt yourself trying to move faster than your body is ready for.]
[Patience, young Lance. Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither are racing drivers.]
The months continued to pass in a rhythm of development and discovery. I learned to crawl at eight months, pulling myself across the hardwood floors of our Montreal home with determination that made Claire laugh and Lawrence nod approvingly. Chloe would create obstacle courses for me out of pillows and toys, cheering every time I made it through.
"You're so fast!" she'd exclaim. "You're going to be a race car driver like the ones Papa watches on TV!"
If only she knew how right she was.
[Month 9: Standing and Pre-Walking Phase]
[Your leg muscles are almost strong enough to support your weight. Within the next few months, you'll take your first steps. This is always a huge deal for parents—prepare for lots of videos and phone calls to relatives.]
[Also, fair warning: Once you're mobile, your life gets both better and worse. Better because you have freedom. Worse because adults will spend all their time trying to stop you from killing yourself on furniture corners and stairs.]
[Babies are basically tiny drunk people with a death wish. Try to be a smart drunk person.]
I pulled myself up on the coffee table, wobbling unsteadily, and Claire rushed over to spot me. Her hands hovered near my sides, ready to catch me if I fell, but she didn't interfere with my attempt to stand.
"That's it, mon chou," she encouraged. "You're so strong. So brave."
Lawrence looked up from his laptop, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Pride, certainly. Hope, maybe. Something else that I'd later recognize as the look of a father already imagining his son's future, already thinking about the opportunities he could provide.
[Month 10: First Steps Imminent]
[Any day now. Your balance is good. Your strength is adequate. Your confidence is... well, you're a baby, so your confidence is absurdly high despite having no real evidence you can pull this off.]
[But that's fine. That's actually perfect. Confidence is crucial for racing drivers. Might as well start early.]
[When you do take those first steps, make them count. Make them memorable. Give your parents a moment they'll treasure forever.]
[After all, these are the people who are going to support you, fund your career, believe in you when others don't. The least you can do is give them some good memories along the way.]
It happened on a Tuesday afternoon in early autumn. I was standing, holding onto the couch, and I saw one of my toys on the floor a few feet away. Something in me just decided it was time. The System had been preparing me for this, and my body felt ready.
I let go of the couch.
I took one step. Then another. Then another.
Three wobbling, uncertain steps before I plopped down on my diapered bottom.
But three steps was enough.
Claire screamed with joy, scooping me up and spinning me around. She was crying, actually crying, and calling for Lawrence and Chloe to come see. Within minutes, the whole family was gathered, watching me take those same three steps over and over again, making a huge production out of what was, objectively, a very basic human ability.
But it wasn't basic to them. To them, it was their baby achieving something incredible. It was proof of growth, of development, of the tiny human they'd brought into the world becoming more capable every day.
Chloe insisted on calling our grandparents immediately to tell them the news. Lawrence filmed me walking, his hands shaky with excitement. Claire kept saying "I can't believe it" over and over.
And me? I felt something I hadn't expected to feel.
Happiness.
Pure, uncomplicated happiness at making my family proud. At giving them a moment of joy. At being part of something bigger than myself.
[System Note: Look at you. Less than a year in this new life and you're already learning lessons about what really matters.]
[Your previous life was spent alone, criticizing others from behind a screen. This life? You're surrounded by people who love you, who are invested in your success, who celebrate your smallest victories.]
[Don't take it for granted.]
[Don't waste it.]
[Age 1: Foundation Year Complete]
[Physical Development: Excellent]
[Cognitive Development: Exceptional (but well-hidden)]
[Social Development: Better than expected]
[Emotional Development: Significant progress]
[Next Phase Preparation: Underway]
[Mission Status: On track]
[Personal Assessment: You might actually pull this off. Against all odds, despite your previous track record of mediocrity, you might actually become the person you claimed you could be.]
[Don't screw it up.]
I took another wobbly step forward, towards where my father was kneeling with his arms outstretched, a huge smile on his face.
Towards my future.
Towards everything I'd been given a second chance to achieve.
[Welcome to your new life, Lance Stroll.]
[Let's make it count.]
To be continued...
Author's Note: Chapter 2 covers Lance's first year of life, establishing the System's role and showing his early development. Next chapter will jump forward to toddler years (18 months - 3 years old), where his personality really starts to emerge and the first hints of his racing future begin to show. The slow build is intentional—we're laying foundations for 400+ chapters of character growth.