Sunday, August 19, 2018
Back With More Fiction
THE DRIVER
Jack Bragen
The city was endless. I did not know where I was, but I knew I wanted to find home. I badly wanted to find home. I didn't know where that was, and I didn't know who I was. I just kept driving. And it was night, it was night, always.
I stopped at a small market. I used their toilet and I bought something to eat and drink. I didn't know why my debit card worked, and I didn't know how much money was in there. The debit card just kept working. I looked at my debit card; it had no name, just an account number, and an expiration date. I looked for a driver's license, and it said, "Driver's License" and it had a chip and a magnetic strip, but no photo or name. I got back to my car; a yellow sedan that always worked. I didn't know what kind it was.
I kept driving, block after block. I was in a daze and I was obeying traffic signals--and observing the pedestrian right-of-way. I was in a sea of taillights, headlights on high and low beam, bright advertising signs, road signs that I could not comprehend, crosswalk signals, paint on roads, potholes, and sometimes newly paved smoothness.
I drove within rivers of vehicles, some people on scooters, Mercedes's, autonomous cars, Harleys driven by big men, old Volkswagens, bicycles that zigzagged ridden by people who didn't care, delivery trucks, stopped trucks with their flashers being loaded or unloaded--I had to maneuver around them--cars with yellow turn signals, cars with red turn signals, police cars, and a policeman on horseback.
I occasionally glanced at the sidewalks. Some of the people walking appeared prosperous; and they were shopping or going to or from a restaurant. Some appeared less fortunate.
I passed through an impoverished area, garbage adorning the streets, empty overgrown lots, chain link fences that served no purpose, drug dealers, and their customers.
I drove past that and went through a business district. The buildings were lit up, but no one was at work. I reached a residential area. Condominiums and townhouses--all the same. But which one was mine? I had no idea. And who was I?
My endurance was unlimited. Whoever had made me had designed me not to need rest. Yet, I seemed human, a person. But one with no identity. My headlights illuminated a stop sign--the first stop that was not a traffic signal. Here I was going to stop. I was going to get out of my incredible car, and I was going to stop, just stop. I turned off the car's power.
But no, I couldn't. I had to find home. So I just kept driving.
Jack Bragen
The city was endless. I did not know where I was, but I knew I wanted to find home. I badly wanted to find home. I didn't know where that was, and I didn't know who I was. I just kept driving. And it was night, it was night, always.
I stopped at a small market. I used their toilet and I bought something to eat and drink. I didn't know why my debit card worked, and I didn't know how much money was in there. The debit card just kept working. I looked at my debit card; it had no name, just an account number, and an expiration date. I looked for a driver's license, and it said, "Driver's License" and it had a chip and a magnetic strip, but no photo or name. I got back to my car; a yellow sedan that always worked. I didn't know what kind it was.
I kept driving, block after block. I was in a daze and I was obeying traffic signals--and observing the pedestrian right-of-way. I was in a sea of taillights, headlights on high and low beam, bright advertising signs, road signs that I could not comprehend, crosswalk signals, paint on roads, potholes, and sometimes newly paved smoothness.
I drove within rivers of vehicles, some people on scooters, Mercedes's, autonomous cars, Harleys driven by big men, old Volkswagens, bicycles that zigzagged ridden by people who didn't care, delivery trucks, stopped trucks with their flashers being loaded or unloaded--I had to maneuver around them--cars with yellow turn signals, cars with red turn signals, police cars, and a policeman on horseback.
I occasionally glanced at the sidewalks. Some of the people walking appeared prosperous; and they were shopping or going to or from a restaurant. Some appeared less fortunate.
I passed through an impoverished area, garbage adorning the streets, empty overgrown lots, chain link fences that served no purpose, drug dealers, and their customers.
I drove past that and went through a business district. The buildings were lit up, but no one was at work. I reached a residential area. Condominiums and townhouses--all the same. But which one was mine? I had no idea. And who was I?
My endurance was unlimited. Whoever had made me had designed me not to need rest. Yet, I seemed human, a person. But one with no identity. My headlights illuminated a stop sign--the first stop that was not a traffic signal. Here I was going to stop. I was going to get out of my incredible car, and I was going to stop, just stop. I turned off the car's power.
But no, I couldn't. I had to find home. So I just kept driving.
UNSAFE CHEAP CRAP APPLIANCE
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