Driving Answers

The sky sprinkled with orange and yellow, except it wasn’t the sky at all rather the intensity of light radiating from the approaching city skyline. Nightfall was upon the city, instinctively my gut tensed as I grew contemplated the outcomes of the next few hours. Regardless I continued my drive forward. If nothing else, I could catch up with Tommy at the Bureau he was always helpful and beyond insightful.

Ten minutes had passed. The sound of heavy, rumbling motors, loud rap and hip-hop beats and young people screaming from car windows surrounded. Clear signs of being within the city scopes. Moderny was the city-slang rename. A hip version of Modern New York City, except it wasn’t even New York City. It was the remnants of a previous coastline system close to the Gold Coast of Australia. The area had reports of street racing activity for years. New laws pushed their way as a reactive method trying to improve an already broken system. That was the history of the early 2000s. It is now 2122. Not even sure why we are allowed to override the automated car system with manual checks. Many issues could be completely obliterated if humans would step down and let the robots auto-run. Moderny is a mess. A Modernised Eliminated Social Structure. MESS.

Dim lights, fingerprint scanner malfunction. No clear way to get inside, but the old-fashioned use the door handle method. Tommy was getting on in his years, he looked thin and his hair even thinner with a shiny grey almost glowing halo on his head. Signs of wisdom. His back was facing me, as he lent over the older counter.

“Hi Tommy, how’s it goin?”

“Viktor! What brings you in? I’m surprised you got through the security system!”

I knew he was being sarcastic, yet accurate. “Yeah, pretty insane system you got there, only the older models will be able to gain clearance.”

“HA! That would be something. I did also ask what brings you in.”

“Aah. I can’t shake what’s going on lately.”

“With the street races?”

“With everything. Why do I bother staying with the force-control? Why didn’t I try harder in my marriage? Would it have changed anything? Stella was adamant to do her own thing. Poor Jessika ended up in foster care, do I even want to open that can of worms? Street racers. What should I care about them for? They are the ones driving this dammed city system now.”

“That sounds very cynical coming from you Viktor. Stella’s been gone for over 20 years now; you really cannot hold that against you. She made her moves, make yours. Jessika. I think you are wanting to explore that, why else mention it? Do you think she is caught up in the street racer squads?”

“I hope not.”

“But have you considered the very real possibility? Everyone has access to a car and a mechanic. Stella walked away with your unborn child and put her in foster care. You’ve never seen the girl. She’s either got the beauty of Stella and is involved in the street racer squads or she’s got the brains and ended up as a mechanic. Use your skills for good, for once in your life. Then quit. Just do something you can own.”

“I own my car.”

“And who owns your mind and body?”

Tommy was right. Too much time was spent living in the past. What thoughts am I allowing? Tommy had returned to the counter benchtop. The discussion was closed. There was purpose now, find my daughter. Force Control is nothing like the Police force, no access to files, no fancy weaponry, just a peacekeeper with a fancy name and minor clearance.

How to find a 21-year-old girl I know nothing about but a name? Half a name. Would she be Williams or would she be Graves. Surely Williams, the hospital system would have supported the mother’s surname. Jessika Williams. The foster homes may have information. A task for the morning. For now, home on the worn-out sofa seats in the back of the car sounded perfected. For once it will be a night, I don’t need to contemplate the finishing line of the street racers.

From foster home location to the next, each supplying breadcrumb trails. Poor Jessika was bumped around the system, what if she ended up as a rebel? Is this something I am allowed to care about? Should I be allowed a say? I shouldn’t judge. I wasn’t involved in her upbringing. The last foster care shelter was located on the outskirts of the city. A broken-down village used solely for parts. Ramshackled. Anyone with half a brain would know to stay well away from this place. Except they built a foster care shelter here, for the young people who migrated from the northern beaches. Judgement flooded and after chatting with Tommy I struggled hard to push the thoughts from my mind. Trying to remain hopeful for a strong lead.

No part of me wanted to leave my car. Would there even be a car to return to if I get out? This was the alleged car park for the foster shelter. As though a dust storm had frozen in time, dropping all sandy elements the area was covered in red dusty dirt. An old sign gently rocked against the shelter stating: Boundary Hope Shelter. No fingerprint scanners, no CCTV, easy crime location dump. And an intact door handle. Before I could touch the door handle, the door slid open and before me was a metallic shiny operating heap of metal. A first Gen robot wheelie. In decent nick, either it can fend for itself well or someone lives here, as this robot would be worth a decent chunk of cash. First Gen robots were known for their politeness and friendly demeanour programmed into the rectangle panel, replicating a modernized computer face. The robot completed its scan, a common function to gain details on us humans. Given my minor clearances it would be easy to find me in the system. The robot screen read: Hello Viktor Graves, how can I assist? The robotic arms of the robot transformed into a keypad.

I typed: Jessika Williams. Enter.

Error. Returned on the screen.

I typed: Stella Williams. Enter.

Error. Returned on the screen.

Unsure I typed Viktor Graves. Enter.

Strange robotic noises began. Sparking electrical currents were visible from the metal plating. I stepped back. Then a loud piercing sharpness through my ears in a wailing pattern. I fell to my knees the loud obnoxious noise took over. Clasping my head on either side, covering my ears, rocking, and wishing for the sound to cease.

Black boots came in from the sliding door. Muffled noises. My arms were dragged, and a bag went over my head. My arms cuffed. Thugs. This was a setup. To get the robot and sell for parts? Or have I been set up? Tommy? No surely not. Jessika? What has she got herself involved in?

Surely, we were in a van, the air smelt clean and fresh, like a rental. My body rocked from side to side; no seatbelt. Possibly poor suspension on the vehicle.

“Hey! Bag of bones are you Viktor Graves?” it was a young soft voice, female. I felt I could trust this person, though also unsure how many more were in the car. A female would not be capable of dragging me into a van during a panic attack. A thick feeling boot kicked into my side stomach. Proof another person at least in the vehicle.

“Answer her!” the voice associated with the kicking foot demanded.

“Yes. I am Viktor Graves.”

“Why is Force Control checking into foster shelters and surveying the border?”

That’s it! That’s how it would appear to third parties. “Routine checks.”

“Why?!”

“Why do you need the parts? What are the racers into by destroying a First Gen?”

The girl was clearly driving the vehicle. The kicking foot was possibly the only other boarded member. This wasn’t a thug group.

“Argh!” The girl growled. “My name is Jessika Williams, why are you searching for me? What do you have on me?”

That was easier than I thought. But why this big scene, why bag me?

“Why did you need to know who I am, if you already knew I was connected with Force Control?”

Silence filled the air.

“After she passed away, I was given a book with information about the world before I came into it. Who my Mum was, why she didn’t look after me. I was given a big wad of cash I didn’t know what to do with it, so I invested it. At the end of the book, it stated – beware of a man named Viktor Graves, he will work with Force Control. He will be trying to find you.”

Suddenly it felt as though the vehicle had stopped traveling. Cold, thick air fell upon me like a weighted blanket sending me to sleep. Stella is gone forever.

“When did Stella pass?”

“This is not how it works. You will tell me why you are searching for me! What reason do you have! Wait. How do you know my Mum's name?”

“Because I’m your father.”

My head thumped against the backs of the seats, as the vehicle came to a crashing stop.

“You are my Dad?! Why didn’t you raise me? Why didn’t you look for me earlier? Do you know what I’ve gone through that could have been completely preventable if I had a decent parent? ARGH!”

“You have every right to be as angry as I was when Stella left me, telling me she is 13 weeks pregnant with a baby girl she is hoping to name Jessika. She wanted to include the k in the spelling of the name to represent a part of my name, for Viktor is spelt with the k instead of c. Nothing I could have done or said would have made Stella stay. She had a strong mind of her own, but she was involved in the wrong things. That money you inherited is most likely thug money. I would take it to a specialised bank and have it scanned for prints. Get that stuff turned in to the Cops and you’ll get a double payout for helping them get stronger leads. I was never the bad guy in the story, and I am not trying to paint an ill picture of your mother either. This life, there’s no purpose to it. The street races will begin again, as they do every night at 7 o’clock. And for another night I won’t have to ponder about laying on the finishing line.”

“You want to die?”

“Yeah, I did. Every day for the past 20 years. I would take the riskiest jobs in hopes of not returning to the office. Not going to the hospital. But being buried as my name suggests. Death only taunts me. But now I have found you. A fight I thought would be much harder, but coincidences have caught up with the pair of us.”

The blackness was removed. I felt thankful to the dimming light from the sunset easing my vision. A young girl’s face came into view. Stunning. With big brown eyes, prominent features, and dark brown hair. A young Stella.

“I’m sorry for bagging you. Let me undo the cuffs.”

“You look just like your mother.”

“Let’s hope not as stupid. I don’t work with the thugs. This is David, sorry for telling him to kick you. We towed your car on the back of the van by the way. I know how important cars are in this life. I don’t think this life has no purpose. I think it is full of too much purpose and it is for the individual to determine which avenue they want to drive through at full speed.”

“Can we choose the same avenue and catch up on some missed opportunities?”

“I would like that very much. After you help me cash in that large sum on money.”

A warmness came over, filling me. I found the purpose drive.