The Car

The car hooked up easily, was loaded, (with Antony in it), and everything went well.  When the green light went on, he got out to use the bathroom in the lounge train car, bought some instant machine food that certainly is horrible for his body and got back to his car.  He set the thermostat to a comfortable level, lowered the driver’s seat into a bed position, got his sleeping bag, and settled down for a “long winter’s nap”.  The Amtrak personal unit car train would do all the driving for the next twelve hours.  Then, it would gracefully unload his car and him.  If he still was asleep, the car would drive him to his specific location.  If he needed to do any privacy stuff while in the moving vehicle then he could “frost,” the windows.  Even a “car guy” like Antony was being dragged into this whole “mobility unit” thing.  To start, the original price was astonishingly low.

Today, he just opened the car door, threw his bag into the bag holder compartment, got in and told the thing where he wanted to go.  Yeah, Antony lost all of his privacy because any business or governmental unit that paid, got the whole update on where he went, how long he stayed, what restaurants, hotels, stores, schools, religious organizations, etc.  If Antony hadn’t agreed to the information package the mobility unit would simply not have been affordable.  But, wow, the services!  He would be on the other side of the country in the morning, rested and happy.  No airport, no driving stress, not a single worry and while in the strange city, no taxis necessary and never getting lost as he traveled about in a strange city.  The car even knew what type of restaurants Antony liked and would find places like them in the new city.  Still, Antony had been a significant hold out on this matter.

Throughout his life, he bought cars with manual transmissions even when they got so rare that only a few car models had them and then, only with a special order.  Then, with electric cars taking over, he stayed true and got the “racing” controls.  That is, some sport models allowed drivers to manually control which wheel got all or some of the power for some serious mountain road or dirt tracking fun via a “stick shift” placed where the old manual shifter used to be in older model cars.  Antony just loved the interaction that a good car and an expert driver had together.  The car would talk to him.  The tires let him know when they were nearing their slip angles so he needed to slow down in rain for example.  The motor would let him know when he was demanding too much of it.  He just loved driving, OK?  When Antony got this new job though, a mobility unit “car” was part of getting the position.  Surprisingly, he took to the thing like peanut butter on bread.

Maybe it was a “growing old” thing but the logic of getting a mobility unit made much sense.  Even in the relatively rare possibility of an accident or break down, the manufacturer would immediately send another mobility unit to replace the old one no matter how slight the damage.  Antony would never forget the Minneapolis snow storm.  The mobility unit got him through in an complete white out because he absolutely had to be to an important meeting on time.  When the antique four wheel drive truck with the idiot driver that thought that he was better than a computer, wiped out and t-boned his mobility unit, the cops weren’t even done with their reports before Antony’s replacement mobility unit showed up, right there, in a raging Minnesota snow storm.  In a very little while, only hobbyists would be “driving” on the roads.

There was one issue about mobility units that bothered Antony though.  The issue first really manifested itself to Antony while he was on business in Chicago.  Antony saw a “Pounder”.  He had heard of them from friends, usually after to many beers in a little neighborhood bar somewhere.  (Antony never went to the blog sites where stuff like this was talked about).  Going there had a way of negatively effecting your career.  Therefore, it was a shock to actually see a pounder.

It was in the middle of rush hour on the Edens Expressway for God’s sake.  The guy had time to stare Antony in the eyes, his eyes gaping open in horror as their mobility units stood next to each other during a traffic slow down on the expressway.  The man had actually ripped the large, red, manual over ride button out from its’ place in the front control area.  He was using it to try to batter the window next to him, which of course, wasn’t even cracking let alone breaking.  So much for the much advertisement that no driver ever loses final control.  Antony still didn’t know how to deal with that, and thinking about it now, safely locked in his warm, comfy, mobility unit, wasn’t very pleasing.  Antony thought of more pleasant things and promptly fell asleep.  He had been up for twenty hours to get his report done, so he was exhausted after all.

Antony slept well because the unit sensed that he was falling asleep and increased the oxygen content in the cabin so he wouldn’t need his sleep apnea unit.  In fact, Antony slept much too well.  When Antony woke up, a quick glance at his personal electronics showed that he overslept and had missed his first, very important, morning meeting.  In shock, Antony snapped up from his sleeping seat.  He couldn’t remember being late for anything since he got his mobility unit about three years ago.  “Pluto!”  He shouted.  (Antony had named his personal concierge system after an extremely loyal, childhood pet).

“Why the hell am I late for the International Security Systems meeting?”

The calming, gentle, female voice came on as expected, “There is no need for concern Antony, I.S.S. has already been informed of your emergency.”

Antony couldn’t look out of the windows since they were obviously electronically frosted over, “Emergency….what emergency?”

“Antony, you came up on a B.A.T.F. Midichlorian profile search and…..”

“Pluto…what the hell is going on….and what the hell is a Midichlorian search?”

The system hesitated just for a tiny bit, which Antony knew always happened whenever he interrupted Pluto.  A programmer buddy told him once that though the short pause originally was due to the programming needing to reset itself with new information, now programmers intentionally left the pause in because it was a way for the system to tell the human client that he or she was being rude.

“Antony”, the gentle and calm voice continued, “the science of Midichlorian profiles took their title from the classic Star Wars movies to name itself.”

“Ok?”

“Depending upon a person’s system acquired ethnic, racial, gender, religious, political, life habits and social opinion readings, an individual attains positive or negative Midichlorian readings.”

“Ok, so what does that have to do with me?”

“Antony, according to the Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco & Firearms your Midichlorian reading levels have gotten excessively negative and the bureaucracy requires me to inform you that excessively negative Midichlorian readings results in required intervention therapy”.

“What, how could that be Pluto?  I’m just an average guy.  I don’t even vote let alone be active in anything.”

“Antony, this probably simply is a checkup”. 

“Pluto, even if this all makes sense,…which it doesn’t….did they have to make me miss a meeting?”

“Antony”, the calm voice continued, “policy has Midichlorian readings as extremely high priority”.

“God, this is aggravating.  So where am I now?”

“Antony, your mobility unit is in a B.A.T.F. impounding structure in Cincinnati, Ohio awaiting processing.”

Antony was only a little bit worried.  He was innocent of any wrong doing, right?  Of course, Antony didn’t know that it is impossible to have both rule of law and rule of elites.  Eventually, one must always overcome the other.  Without a historical exception, managed democracies become ever more managed and ever less a democracy.  Antony really should have been much more worried.

Proverbs 28:5 Evildoers do not understand what is right, but those who seek the Lord understand it fully.