starpollen1998

[starpollen1998]

Drive: A new SciFi story - Part 1 / ?

I don’t know what it is with me and cars lately.  Maybe because I haven’t driven one in nearly 4 years, or maybe because I had a plot bunny about a hired driver and then couldn’t decide which direction to take it. So, naturally, I wrote 2 stories.  Hope you enjoy!

Part 1

I never got a call like this.  Usually it was a Lifer, or sometimes one of the Dots.  Not one of us T’s - we were usually given the cargo deliveries, or sometimes transferring a ferry vehicle from point A to point B.  But, then again, I had been with this particular ferry company for almost six years.  I suppose it was just a matter of time before I was made a Dot.

The thought made me… uneasy.

Pulling slowly up to the large gated entry, I ‘nudged’ with my cortical and the sedan came to a smooth stop.  Swiping my right wrist in a C motion triggered the suspended control panel, lighting up the interior like a Christmas tree.  It was still displaying the file I had opened when I got in to make the drive.

A man’s face stared through me.  

Jagged cuts skittered across his face, like lightning, starting at the ruin that had been his left ear and ending just short of his nose.  His hair had been shaved completely off, including his eyebrows, so there was no telling what color it would be. His eyes were so dark brown they were almost black. The left eye was obviously a cyber: its iris slightly larger than the right, eerily perfect.  Between the lightning strikes, raised whips of burns tangled together, twisting the left corner of his mouth, reminiscent of ivy suffocating a wall.

And that’s what his right eye was.  A wall.

Hard and blank, cold even in the fixed likeness projected from the dash.

Thorn, Keane R.

That was all I got when I downloaded the file to the sedan’s main frame.  A face.  A name.  An address most of us pretended didn’t exist.

Sisak Province Penitentiary.

A swish of my wrist to the left closed the file, plunging the interior into darkness.  It was coming up on two marks past midnight, and there was no moon.  

I didn’t know whether I was supposed to get out or not.  There had been no further instructions, simply the pickup and dropoff addresses and a time, along with his file.  If you could call a face and a name a ‘file…’  Sisak Province Penitentiary was known for housing the kind of criminals who didn’t simply rob or rape or murder.  No.  These were the spies, the assassins.  The ones who could topple governments, ignite global wars, or famines… all with a few keystrokes.

In a world full of Bad People, these were Abominations.

While I sat dithering between opening the door and staying put, there was a sudden knock on the backseat window.  I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Turning, I could see the form of a man waiting, though I could only see him from chest to wrists.  I ‘nudged’ my cortical and the back door slid open, the titanium panel disappearing smoothly into the frame of the door in front of it.  From the outside it would have looked like it retracted into nothing.  The man climbed in and the door immediately slid closed. From the outside there would have been no seam, no handles.

I realized too late that I hadn’t been the one to ‘nudge’ it closed.

The night was dark enough that I couldn’t clearly see his face, to know if he was the right person I was supposed to ferry.  “M-Mr. Th--”

“Keane.”

That one word, barely rasped, like wind creaking through a hollow tree.

“Okay…” I mumbled under my breath.  

The engine thrummed to life, and the ferry started moving forward.

I decided then and there that I needed to plan something to get myself busted back down to the lowest grade ferryman.  I didn’t want any more calls like this ever again.

“Do you wanna get up here and drive?” I barked out in a sudden fit of anger.  That’s what happened to me when I got flustered or fearful: my temper flared, usually with dire consequences… I winced, biting my lower lip.

“No.”

That sandpaper voice, barely there.  But I ‘felt’ control of the ferry return to me, as lightly as if someone had tossed me a set of keys.

It took a lot of psychogenic power for someone to be able to do what he just did, not only taking control of the ferry from my cortical without my noticing it, but then to return it without either one of us experiencing backlash.

Who the hell was this guy?...

I heard rather than saw him settle back into the ergonomic cradle, and the long breath he blew out had weight.  We drove in silence for 30 minutes.  Only once, about 10 minutes from the destination, did I hear a sharp intake of breath.  My ears strained to hear what would follow - a gasp, a word, a shifting of position - but there was nothing.  

Finally, we pulled up to a sleek high-rise apartment, one of the new ones that had several individual elevator pods hovering at its base.  Rumor was that this style of building had no interior doors at all: each black-tinted pod would take you directly from your vehicle or ferry to your balcony door, the ultimate manifestation of privacy and seclusion.

The ferry settled under one of the street lights, and a glance in the rear view camera showed a beam of light cutting directly across my passenger’s face.

It was him.  Thorn, Keane R.  But the side of his face that was ruined - the left - was in shadow.  He had turned so his right eye and ear were facing me.  Other than looking bloodlessly pale in the harsh blade of light, he looked normal.

Well, as normal as a man recently picked up from maximum security penitentiary can look, I guess.

As I looked at him, his eye closed, another sharp inhale causing his shoulders to lift.  Then, as before, no other sound escaped, but I watched as his body flinched forward sharply.  It was…

Was that a sneeze?...

Giving himself a little shake after and blinking rapidly, I ‘felt’ control of the sedan taken from me a little more roughly than before.  The door panel slid open, and Mr. Thorn unfolded himself from the cradle.  I hadn’t been able to see before, but he was a little taller than average, with a light layer of fuzz growing in on his head. It looked like it would be the same shade as his eyes.

Before the panel shut completely, he looked at me.

“Thank you.”

My eyebrows shot up.  “Um, you’re welcome?”

But the panel had closed.

[starpollen1998]

Uber Allergic: A Romance - part 1 / ?

I don’t know what it is with me and cars lately.  Maybe because I haven’t driven one in nearly 4 years, or maybe because I had a plot bunny about a hired driver and then couldn’t decide which direction to take it.  So, naturally, I wrote 2 stories. A warning: I have never taken an Uber.  I have used a similar company in the country where I live, so I imagined it would be the same.  Apologies for any mistakes.  Hope you enjoy!

The Ride - Part 1

When I saw him standing on the curb waiting, I couldn’t help but blink. And then swallow hard.  The man was stunning: tall, broad-shouldered, long-limbed, with a perfect jawline and dazzling smile.  His hair was that rare coiff that crested like waves from his head, barely brushing his ears, thick and tawny like a lion. When he dropped into the back seat, I saw his eyes were a stunning shade of blue.

I’ve had attractive men in my car before, sure.  But none quite as mind-blowing as this one.

“Heya, darlin’,” he quipped, firing off a devastating wink at me through the rear view mirror.

“Hi,” I replied, barely able to get that single syllable past the lump in my throat.  I prayed I could focus on the road in front of me and not the Greek-god-incarnate in the back seat.  He was headed across town, a trip that would take us roughly 40 minutes.

We rode in silence for almost a full minute, him tapping away on his cell phone while I gritted my teeth and forced my gaze at the horizon. Occasionally I glanced at the GPS, checking that we were on track.

Then…

“heHH?...”

I couldn’t help it.  My eyes darted up to the rear view mirror.

I watched as Greek-god pinched his nostrils shut, rubbing in hard, tight circles, finishing with a small shake of his head, blue eyes blinking furiously.  Was it my imagination, or did those eyes seem to be getting red?

I kept driving.

Not even a minute later…

“heh-heHH?...”

Once more, my eyes snapped like magnets to the rear view mirror.  My passenger was frozen in classic pre-sneeze expression: eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, lower lip trembling… nostrils flared, the tip of his prominent nose visibly twitching.  His elegant head turned left, then right, and then…

“heght--SHHzzztT!!”

He sneezed - snapping into his elbow at the last second.

“B-... Bless you,” I stammered, sure I was blushing red as a tomato.

But Greek god wasn’t done.

He raised his head, eyes still shut, shoulders bouncing with stuttering hitches.  My eyes were darting between the road ahead and the rear view mirror, terrified that I was either going to rear-end someone … or miss one second of the spectacle in the back seat.  

Then - a red light.

Thank you! I screamed in my mind to whatever higher power was listening.

When I came back to the rear view mirror, his right hand was raised, hovering loosely cupped, nostrils stretching into little round O’s, his upper lip curled back from gleaming white teeth…

“hegt--SCHgtT!!” he snapped down, visibly misting the hand. This time he stayed down, and I could almost see his abs rippling beneath his button-up shirt.  “eegh--SCHHtT… aAH-SCHTch-u!!”

“Bless you,” I barely breathed, glad that this particular red light seemed to be taking a lot longer than usual.

His voice - husky and a little congested - floated up from behind the hand still cupped to his nose.

“... snfll… thanks, darlin’.  … sdrfl…. Don’t suppose you h-have… sdrffl…  any tissues?”

Fumbling, I opened the glove box and pulled out the stack of drive-through napkins I kept stashed away for emergencies.  Usually spilled coffee.  Twisting in my seat, I set the stack on his left knee, fingertips brushing the hard muscles of his thigh.

Peering through the tawny strands of hair that had been knocked loose by the fit, his eyes crinkled with a smile.  “Thanks.”  

An impatient honk made me jump.  Heart pounding, I whipped back around to face the road and eased us forward through the intersection.  His soft chuckle made my ears burn, sure that I was blushing fire-engine red by now.

I heard soft blowing, more wet sniffles, and managed to catch in the mirror when he stretched two KFC napkins between both hands and muffled a wet double: “t’SCHmp--g’SCHHm!”

“Bless you,” I managed, happy when my voice sounded even and calm, even though my hands were gripping the steering wheel hard.

“Darlin’ you don’t… hH!--... have to say that every time… snffl---hHehH!--... l-looks like I m- muhH!-HGK’tSCHHt!... excuse me.  I might be at this a while...”  Taking another napkin from the dwindling stack, he pinched it around his nose and rubbed again in small, fast circles, brows drawing together in concentration.

Grateful for another red light, I stared into the mirror.  My passenger had a fist full of crumpled napkins in one hand, the other pinching and rubbing desperately at increasingly pinkening nostrils.

“Does… this happen often?”

Another husky chuckle, which deteriorated into more hitching breaths and another itchy-sounding sneeze. “hgz’CHHT! … Depends,” he breathed, bringing the knot of used tissues up to dab at his watering eyes.  “Do you have a c-... hHihh!... a cat?”

The Ride - Part 2

 My mouth dropped open, eyes wide.  He saw my expression in the mirror and gave another chuckle.  Swiping a knuckle under his nose, he flashed me a wry grin.  “Well, that explains it.”

 “I’m sorry,” I looked back at him, stricken.

 “Nah, don’t worry about it,” he gave a dismissive shake of his lion’s head.  “You couldn’t know.  heh-GSCHhtu!... And it’s not like there’s a box to tick in the app, or anything. ...snfl…  ‘Driver has pets.’ ...sdrfl … A lot of people do.  Have pets.”

 “I know,” I replied softly, turning the wheel smoothly as we rounded a corner.  “But I can still be sorry that you’re… you know…”  I couldn’t bring myself to say it.  I couldn’t even glance in the mirror.

 But I heard the smile in his voice when he said, “It’s fine.  Really.  It h--hH!  hg’zCHHt!-heh’GZShht!... excuse me.  It happens a lot, actually. snfl.”  

 That did make me glance at the mirror, brows raised in surprise… and interest.  “Really?”

 Greek god had placed the growing pile of used napkins in the seat beside him, frowning down at both his watch and the small stack of napkins still on his leg. The tip of his nose was flushing a tell-tale pink, blue eyes definitely red-rimmed.  He blinked rapidly and sniffled constantly, dabbing at his eyes or wiping at his nose, overall looking the very picture of ‘itchy’ and ‘allergic.’

 “Yeah,” he replied, breath spiraling in preparation for another sneeze… but it left him last-minute, causing him to give a frustrated cough. “I’m allergic to most animals, but you might say I’m… uber allergic to cats.”  Those stunning blue eyes twinkled at me in the mirror, followed by a mischievous wink.

 “Why risk taking an Uber, then?”

 “Well, as cliché as it sounds... my car is in the shop.”

 “Oh?”

 “Yeah, snffll, I got a… hH!--... a recall letter.  Better safe tha-… heh-GSCHt--ahh-GSCHu!... ugh. Apologies.”

 We chatted a little more during the ride, about his job as an IT consultant and my 3 jobs: kindergarten teacher, waitress at Olive Garden, and Uber driver.  By the time we reached his destination I had counted no less than 56 sneezes, nearly always he followed up with ‘excuse me,’ or some other polite apologetic. He had used my entire stash of emergency napkins, and his handsome face was a bleary, blotchy wreck: nose red, eyes puffy, voice croaky and thick with congestion.

 “I’m sorry, again,” I said when we stopped at the curb in front of his building. 

 “Add - agaid - you dod’t have adythig to be sorry for,” he rasped, palming the pile of used tissues and reaching for a few that had fallen to the floor.

 “Oh, I can do that,” I got out in a rush.  “You don’t have to--”

 “Oh, doh,” he chuckled, voice breaking on the second word like a prepubescent.  “I cad take by owd dirty tissues, darlid’.”  Glancing up, he gave me a soft smile.  “You’ve beed padiedt edough about all this.”  Maybe I imagined it, but it looked like he blushed just a little.

 “Well it’s my fault,” I insisted.  

 He opened his mouth to reply, but instead turned and gave a tired-sounding sneeze into his elbow. “H’eISCHt!... gkm, pardod.”

 “Bless you,” I murmured. 

 “You dow, sdrfl, I usually dod’t like it whed people say that…”

 “I’m sor--”

 “But sobehow whed you do,” he glanced back, swiping a knuckle under his nose and giving that same, soft smile.   “I dod’t mide.”

 He exited, leaving me staring after him with a mixture of warmth and confusion.  Definitely one of the most… unusual... rides I’d ever had. 

 Throwing the lever into park, I got out to do my usual check of the interior in case the passenger had left something behind. A flash of white tucked by the seatbelt latch caught my eye.  Thinking Greek god must have missed one of the used napkin wads, I reached for it. 

 And pulled out a business card.

 “C. B. Decker - Sunfire Technology”

 I turned it over.

 “Thanks for the ride...  Have dinner with me sometime?”   

I pulled my head out of the car, staring over my shoulder at his building.  I wasn’t sure, but it looked like someone was standing just inside the glazed doors, watching.  Turning back to the card in my hand, I bit my lip.  It was a violation of my Uber contract if I said yes.  

 But.

 That guy...

 Aw, hell.  I could get by without the income.  Probably.  

Maybe.

 I looked back at the building, and was now sure I could make out his tall silhouette, tawny mane just a bit disheveled.  The figure suddenly bent forward, and I knew. 

 I kept my eyes on the building as I made a show of putting the card into my pocket.  It wasn’t a no.  But it wasn’t a yes.  

 Not yet. 

 As I drove home for the night, my imagination spun out as I deliberated whether or not to accept.  One, he knew I had a cat, was apparently ‘uber’ allergic... and wanted to see me again, anyway.  Two, I had been getting tired of driving 30 hours a week, and maybe I could arrange to suspend my contract.  Or I could quit, and then get rehired if things didn’t work out… or, if they did... 

 I crawled into bed, reaching up to stroke Sheba where she always slept on the second pillow. She made a little mew, flipping her head upside down and curling tighter into a furry ball. 

 As I drifted off to sleep, his delicious sneezes echoed in my dreams…