Mason Force
ONE- CRASH (Caspian)
The pod was manufactured in the year 2068 by a prestigious Japanese company that specialized in transporting high society. It was an oblique, slender and fully autonomous dart, with space for a single human occupant to experience the pinnacle of personalized transportation. Today, this occupant was Adrian Cross. He lounged on a seat that was designed to remain a constant temperature, meticulously coated in a synthetically-grown leather. No expense was spared for the walls, which were adorned with purely aesthetic carbon fiber panels, and the immersive virtual display featured a resolution that wouldn’t be seen for several years in other models.
If you couldn’t tell by now, Adrian was pretty rich. And he didn’t care so much about such details in his vehicle. I’m sure at one point he obsessed about this kind of stuff, but by now the novelty of it all had worn off considerably. He hardly noticed the extravagant features that he paid so much to include, because for him, these things were simply standard. Regardless, the pod cut through the air effortlessly, supported by powerful magnets built into the road. They prevented any turbulence in the cabin, even as he cruised at over 150 miles per hour. The machine whisked Adrian towards the outskirts of Brooklyn, just as it had every afternoon for the last several years. Little did he suspect that it was the last time the pod would ever do so.
The cabin was spacious enough for a much taller person, so Adrian was quite comfortable with his unnecessary legroom, slouching in his seat. He never looked through the viewports, a personalized fact that his implanted computer had noted. It responded automatically by dimming the light from outside, so as not to disturb Adrian as he idly monitored the newscast that had appeared in the holographic projection before him. This was only one of the many tasks that the computer performed simultaneously. It was quite impressive, really. This implanted computer was certainly an extraordinary piece of technology, but unlike Adrian’s luxurious pod, it was much less exclusive. In fact, it was an all-inclusive and fundamental aspect of modern society. The fantastic device was installed just under the skin behind his left ear, where it could interpret brain waves into sight and sound, effectively allowing it to see and hear all that Adrian did. The potential lack of privacy didn’t bother him, and hadn’t since soon after the medical procedure that installed the device there nearly a decade ago.
The device’s operating system was called the Superior Logistics Analysis Program, and it was an indispensable part of Adrian’s daily life. Most everyone knew it as SLAP, a somewhat unfortunate acronym that Adrian remembered finding humorous at one point. The wearer experienced the freedom of never having to make a decision, and it was SLAP that directed the complex movements of Adrian’s vehicle.
The projected newscaster had a British accent, and Adrian cringed inadvertently. It reminded him of his father’s splitting remarks, which had become a familiar assault on Adrian’s eardrums. The program, noting this, dutifully changed the accent into a pleasant west-coast American dialect that allowed Adrian to focus on the topic of presentation, which was pointedly selected due to its relevance to him. The 5:00 newscaster, Luther O’Brien, met Adrian’s eyes as though he were in the same room, smiling widely to display a set of gleaming teeth.
“Stockholders of The Corporation rejoiced today as shares rose by 3 points following a brief but confident presentation of the company’s newest expansion plan, Project Redstone, by the Chairman of the Board, Adrian Cross,” announced Luther cheerfully. Adrian grinned at the mention of his name. “Mr. Cross, in less than 5 minutes, outlined a partnership between The Corporation and LINCAST, the sole producer of the Superior Logistics Analysis Program hardware and software. According to preliminary reports from the Corporation headquarters, the much-speculated Redstone plan is an effort to distribute SLAP in low-income areas of Southern Asia, where the societal benefits of the software have yet to been seen. Mr. Cross refused to comment following the presentation, despite general confusion in the boardroom. Thank you, and this has been your personalized 5 o’clock newscast. Join us again tomorrow at 6 AM for more exciting updates.”
As the newscast concluded, Adrian continued to smile contentedly. It never failed to delight him, watching mentions of himself on national news. An element of mystery was important, he thought. Why would anyone pay attention if they already knew everything?
Of course, the mystery part was not his idea. Adrian didn’t have many ideas. Instead, he simply followed the instructions of his implant. But I followed those instructions well, he told himself. He had no idea what the implant’s plan was, but only knew that it was designed to secure his ultimate happiness, and had done a pretty good job so far. Adrian was the youngest board member in the history of the Corporation, not even considering the fact that he was the chairman. He had achieved all he could have ever hoped for, and so was forced to set even higher standards for himself. How could he complain about that? He contemplated where he could go once Redstone was activated. Maybe the president?, he considered. But such a position was trivial nowadays...
As he considered his options for world domination, there was a sudden and uncharacteristic lurch in the pod’s movement that bumped him into the wall. Annoyed, he squinted to glance out of the dimmed viewport. Traffic was heavy, but it made no difference to the speed of a computer-controlled vehicle. For the first time, he considered switching to manual drive.
[I apologise for the turbulence,] echoed the implant in his ear. By now, it was a familiar voice, slightly feminine and subtly artificial. Despite this, Adrian had neglected to name his companion. For our convenience, let’s call it… Phillis. [We are making a course correction,] said Phillis. [All is under control. Remain in autonomous mode.] Adrian relaxed. SLAP knew how to live his life better than he did, after all. How could he possibly want to drive? He did, however, continue to look out the window, which stayed stubbornly dimmed, as if encouraging him to shift his gaze to the numerous electronics in the cabin. Outside, a much smaller and economically-made pod caught his attention. The driver, a girl of around 20, seemed to be staring directly at him. He averted his gaze quickly. Creepy, he thought. Adrian wondered for a minute why that pod and its occupant had caught his attention. Suddenly he realized why: she had her hands on the controls. The girl was driving manually. Let me assure you, this was extremely uncommon. As soon as Adrian realized this, he felt another lurch as his pod shifted lanes towards the girl. There was a bad feeling in his stomach, and he couldn’t tell why.
“Maybe I should go manual?,” he muttered, hesitant.
[There’s really no need, Adrian. Besides, you lack the necessary experience to handle the main thoroughfare on a business day. Everything is under control,] insisted Phillis firmly.
Adrian relented. He wondered what was wrong with him. Maybe I’m still flustered from work? It could have been the presentation, but the implant had insisted that he performed perfectly...
At once, all other pods in the vicinity shot away, leaving just Adrian and the manual girl on the road. Adrian, however, didn’t notice anything. If it wasn’t the presentation, he considered, it must have been Elaine Wright from LINCAST-
His last thought was cut short as his vehicle rocketed to the side, throwing him against the far wall with enough force to crack the viewport. The holographic projector was completely destroyed, and the shards cut painfully into his back. Too shocked to even cry out, Adrian was powerless to control his careening vehicle as he flew across the thoroughfare. He could see the horror in the girl’s eyes just before his pod slammed into the rear of hers, crushing the element that powered the electromagnet and sending her into an uncontrolled spin. The stranger’s pod hit the ground with an awful slam, and the 150 mph impact soon tore the cockpit from the remainder of the vehicle. But this was all Adrian had the chance to see, as the collision had sent his pod careening through the barrier at the edge of the elevated roadway.
He plunged for what seemed like ages. As he fell, safety mechanisms triggered that rapidly inflated the walls, leaving Adrian no room to smash against anything solid when the pod finally crashed into the side road beneath the elevated roadway. Despite this feature, the landing still knocked the wind out of him. He felt a painful, burning sensation in his chest as his pod continued to spin, scrambling his sense of direction as he gasped for breath. By the time it skid to a halt, nearly a mile from the collision site, Adrian was barely conscious. He was upside down, and the walls had deflated enough to allow him a view of the thick plume of smoke that had risen from the roadway behind him. There was ringing in his ears, and he found it difficult to register what had just happened. But in the last moments of his consciousness, he did something dramatic! He reached slowly, with a trembling finger, to a spot behind his left ear. Holding it there, Adrian deactivated his implant. And it was silent. Phillis was no more.
I’ll be honest with you here. Despite what he says about me “embellishing the story” and “butchering” facts, Adrian will never read this chapter. Even though it wasn’t his fault, this accident really messed with his head, and it’s not hard to see why. If this were 2032, his condition might be described as post-traumatic stress disorder. While I believe this definition oversimplifies things a little, it gives you an idea of what he went through. The guilt drives him crazy, and reliving it through my vivid storytelling abilities would just be too much for him, because here’s what happened:
The safety mechanisms in his expensive pod saved Adrian’s life, miraculously leaving him with only broken ribs and a minor concussion. But the young girl’s pod had no such features, which were far outside the price range of typical units. The impact only knocked her unconscious. But seconds later, the explosion of the hydrogen fuel cells left nothing mysterious about her fate. A column of thick, black smoke marked the site of her last moments. It was the city’s first fatal road accident in over a decade.