Breakthrough, Chapter 1
The road to nowhere
Marcus' phone lost the route somewhere past the old solar farm. The little blue dot drifted off the road and stayed there, hovering over nothing, while the voice navigation went silent mid-sentence.
In 400 meters, take exit one-tw…—
Then nothing.
Marcus squinted at the screen. No signal. The map was frozen, the last cached image showing a road he thought would be at least 20 minutes away. He should have downloaded the offline version. He always meant to. He never did.
He kept driving. Gigi's Violin kept climbing, layering on itself, the melody circling back and building again. Marcus gripped the wheel and told himself he'd recognize something soon. The Dry Lake couldn't be far. He'd been out here before. Last summer, with his friends, back when things were— He didn't finish the thought.
The sharp metallic wire caught his tires at ninety miles an hour. The blowouts came in a rapid staccato—whump-whump-whump-whump—rubber shredding away in an instant. The rims hit asphalt bare, and the sound changed completely: a shrieking, grinding metal-on-asphalt scream, harsh and bright, throwing up a fantail of orange sparks behind the car.
The seatbelt snapped with unjustified power across Marcus's chest, clinging hard before he even registered what was happening. The seat itself seemed to close around him, bolstering stiff against his shoulders and hips, holding him rigid in place as the speed descended.
The car came to rest at an angle, half in a ditch. Both the engine and the music had stopped, but a persistent bell was ringing from the dashboard.
Marcus sat there, breathing hard. His heart was pounding against his ribs.
The seat belt retracted smoothly back into its housing, the side bolsters softened and released. The airbags were armed but hadn't deployed: the safety system decided it was an unnecessary cost.
A pale dust cloud rolled forward past the car and kept moving, spreading thin across the desert. Marcus watched it go. He wasn't hurt. He knew he wasn't hurt. These cars ate curbs and potholes and flash-flood debris without complaint — he'd seen the adverts. Engineered for everywhere. The whole pitch was that you could point one at a continent and forget about it.
He pressed his tongue against his teeth. A motorway. The car had given up on an actual motorway.
The dashboard glowed red. Calm and corporate, a synthetic voice filled the cabin.
"We've detected significant damage to your vehicle. Completing diagnostic now."
Marcus fumbled for his phone. No bars. He held it up, moved it left, right, toward the windshield.
"All four tires have been compromised beyond operational capacity. Note: run-flat functionality requires tire integrity. Slashing voids run-flat coverage under section 14-B of your rental agreement."
"Yeah, okay." He wasn't listening. One bar flickered on the phone. He jabbed Derek's name. Call failed.
"Battery coolant breach detected. Current vehicle autonomy: three minutes, fourteen seconds."
"Come on." He tried here number. Call failed.
"Based on your registered profile, your damage liability totals—" A brief, cheerful processing chime. "—forty-four thousand, eight hundred and twenty dollars. Recovery and towing fees bring your current balance to fifty-seven thousand, three hundred and forty. Payment will be automatically charged to your Time-Visa ending in 4471."
Marcus stared at the phone.
"We've scheduled your vehicle recovery for Monday, the 14th, between 1:12 pm and 3:43pm."
"Monday?!" Marcus spun toward the dashboard. "It's Friday night! What the fuck do you mean Monday?!"
"Your recovery has been scheduled for the earliest available window. We appreciate your patience."
"I'm in the middle of the desert! There's nothing out here! Let me speak to someone—put me through to a supervisor, right now."
"Connecting you to a customer care specialist."
Hold music. A jaunty acoustic guitar loop, the kind engineered to sound handmade. Marcus pressed his knuckles against his mouth and stared through the windshield at the absolute nothing outside. Fourteen seconds passed.
"We're sorry, all customer care specialists are currently unavailable. Your estimated wait time is—" A pause. "—undetermined."
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"We'd be happy to record a formal complaint on your behalf."
"Yes, you fuckfa…. Yes, do that."
Ten more seconds passed.
"Complaints can be submitted once your outstanding damage balance of fifty-seven thousand, three hundred and forty dollars has been settled in full. Would you like to pay now using your Time-Visa ending in 4471?"
Marcus laughed. A short, ugly sound. He pressed his forehead against the steering wheel and closed his fists so much his knuckles went white.
Marcus ' head turned to the dashboard, incredulous. "Monday!!! And what the hell am I supposed to…"
Before he could finish his sentence, the machine interrupted him: "Our Our Cars team works hard to reach every location. Remote desert coordinates may affect timing. Recovery is not guaranteed within the window."
The heater had already stopped. The temperature outside was still radiating off the ground even at this hour, a dry wall of heat pressing against the glass.
"Current forecast for your location: Saturday high of 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Sunday high of 107 degrees Fahrenheit. The Mayo Clinic recommends approximately one liter of water per hour during high-exertion heat exposure. Please plan accordingly."
Marcus had half a bottle in his bag. He hadn't checked before leaving. The 6 pack - now a 4-pack - didn't help.
"Your rental with Our Cars has been a valued experience. We hope the circumstances of this particular journey don't reflect on the quality of our fleet." Another chime, softer. "Goodbye, Marcus."
The dashboard went dark.
The bell stopped.
Up on the ridge, Auto lowered the binoculars slowly.
Through the heat-scope the figure glowed a vivid orange-white against the blue-cold ground, the shape of a man standing very still beside a dead vehicle. She'd watched the whole thing. The wire had done exactly what it was supposed to do.
She shook her head. She pressed her lips together and looked back down at him. "You stupid son of a bitch…"