The Sixty Days Race -- Prologue

 The expansive green of Central Park is a stage set for the extraordinary today. The park is bristling with energy, swept up by the indomitable spirit of adventure that has seized New York. It's a carnival, a spectacle, a celebration of human audacity and ingenuity. And you're right at the heart of it, amidst the carnival of colors, the cacophony of sounds, the sea of excited faces.

Elaborate structures erected overnight by unseen hands house throngs of enthusiastic onlookers. Banners flutter in the gentle breeze, their vibrant colors gleaming under the morning sun. Among them, one emblem stands out: a silver serpent biting its own tail, set against a background of royal blue — the symbol of the Circulus Vitiosus Foundation, cast in a large bronze disc suspended high above the park.

To your left, a French explorer with a handlebar mustache and a top hat is making final adjustments to his hot-air balloon, a contraption of vivid silk and sturdy wicker that stands tall, ready for take-off. Its colorful envelope flutters against the crystal-clear sky, like a patchwork quilt of a thousand dreams stitched together.

To your right, a Chinese merchant, sporting a comfortable tailored suit and a Panama hat to shield him from the midday sun, pours over the maps and navigational instruments spread out on the table before him. His fingers, lined with age and wisdom, trace the contours of the world with a practiced ease.

Suddenly, the crowd falls silent. A man with a distinct handlebar mustache and a monocle steps onto the stage at the center of the park. He's an imposing figure, garbed in a high-collared white suit that lends him an air of authority. His voice resonates through the crowd as he announces the commencement of the race.

You turn to your right, eyes drawn to a Dutch engineer, his face marked by years of dedication to his craft. In front of him, a unique contraption awaits its test. It's a tandem bicycle, elegantly crafted with sturdy iron and brass, its two wheels boasting rubber treads of a revolutionary design meant for all terrains.

The crowd holds its collective breath. The resounding clang of the starting gong slices through the anticipatory silence. And then, like a tidal wave, the cheer bursts forth. You're a part of it, caught in the euphoria as the hot-air balloon lifts off, the bicycle's wheels turn, and the race for glory — the race around the world in sixty days — begins.