The Good Old Days

by: Dennis R. Humphreys

“I remember the days when we owned our own cars. Who can afford them these days?” my grandfather discussed, with an old friend of his, he grew up with in Minnesota.

“At least you could drive yourself back then. Now either someone drives you or you get one of those driver-less cars that are supposedly safer. It's like anything the government says... they sell you a bill of goods, Max,” his buddy Beaver answered.

His friend was nicknamed Beaver because of his two protruding teeth in the front. He could have afforded to get them fixed years ago, but people thought he liked the nickname, and there would have been no sense for it if they were fixed.

“Yeah, last year the driver-less car I was in had three accidents with three other driver-less cars. The last twenty years I was driving I didn't have a single accident. What does that tell you?” Grandfather Max replied.

Turner, the grandson, was twenty-one and had done well in the stock market this past year so he had extra credits. He decided to buy his own self driving electric car. It was more convenient. Plus, he had some control over it, if he saw it doing something goofy. A private self driving car, or one owned by the government or industry, you couldn't just jump in to stop an accident. Contrary to what everyone originally promised... there were plenty accidents.

Turner bought it on line. It was into the six figure area, but he had the credits. There was a deal where you could buy it cheaper if you accepted the advertising that came with it. Like your computer, getting pop-ups with advertising every time you visited a site, the same thing happened while you drove. It was perfectly legal because being driver-less, there was no distraction. The government, in league with business, made it illegal to turn off the advertising. It didn't matter how obnoxious it was, you had to watch and listen. If you attempted to stop the advertising in any way, the system alerted the authorities and you were fined quite heavily. You were fined for everything these days. Turner planned on using ear plugs with a toboggan pulled down over his ears to hide them, otherwise the video monitor would spot them and the system would turn him into the authorities. With three infractions you lost your car and had an astronomical fee to pay. It was a real money maker, which was split between business and government.

The advertisements played out on the front windshield, since the machine vision could by-pass the window, so they said, to drive the car effectively. Turner ordered the car over the Internet and within hours the car drove up to his front door. Neighbors came running out to see it, since his mom told a few of them her son was buying his own car. No one in the area owned their own car and his excitement of owning one, was their excitement. Quite a crowd developed and a couple of the younger girls there, began making comments about going out sometime. This could be Turner's own bordello on wheels.

Lanie Jacobson, down the road a few houses, was hot. Turner had admired her for three years since she moved into the neighborhood, into the company owned house of the firm where her father worked, where he was promoted to an executive position. He could see her during summers from his bedroom window when she sunbathed nude in her backyard. Some of the local men flew drones over her yard when she was out and Turner swore he saw a few of her pics online.

“You need to show me your car sometime, Turner,” Lanie suggested. “The back seat is big enough if you roll down the window.

“Can you put up with the advertising?” I asked.

What she didn't know yet, was even when the car was turned off, it sensed when someone was inside. As long as someone was in there the advertising played constantly. It might be a bit of a distraction in moments of passion. It played appropriate advertising based on conversational content. If you talked about food it might advertise a local restaurant. He wasn't sure what it would play if it detected an orgasm. Certainly not Viagra.

“What do you mean?” she asked, so he explained. “Sure... I'm willing to try.”

So they made a date for Friday night... in two days. Turner figured he saved half the money on the car doing what he did. He could have bought it at full price, but now he had the extra cash to blow on dates. He'd impress her by taking her to an expensive restaurant called 'McBie's'. It actually had real live waiters and waitresses, instead of robots. These days any restaurant was expensive, but robotic restaurants were more affordable. That was another bone of contention with Turner's grandfather. Plus, the cheaper restaurants served recycled food.

Turner told the car to go pick up Lanie at six and then pick him up since he was running a little late. He climbed into the back seat with her and she almost immediately started making out with him when he sat in the seat, next to her. They made out all the way to 'McBie's'. The car aired lip balm and prophylactic commercials the entire way. They were too busy to pay attention. It was the mouth wash commercial that popped up when she went down on him that was a little much. They laughed until they got out at the restaurant.

Dinner was incredible. It was the best burger Turner ever had, and Lanie claimed the same about hers. It was probably the best three hundred dollars he ever spent. Real meat had extra surcharges on it including a gas emission tax, assuming real beef made you fart. Only the well-off could afford to fart these days.

“Let's go parking,” Lanie suggested. Turner was all for it, so he told his car where to go. It pulled into a very quiet part of a wooded area, near the lake.

Things got hot and heavy immediately. Their back seat actions on the way to eat had just been a warm-up. Lanie was insatiable and she turned Turner into some porno king. Soon she was screaming to the top of her lungs and shaking the whole car, hanging out of the back window. A verbal warning came over the dash saying they were exceeding the acceptable decibel level for 'quality of life' designations. If they did it again, there would be a fine imposed and the car wouldn't start until Turner keyed in the credits for payment. It was warm outside that evening, so they went outside, both screaming to their hearts' content, a couple of hundred feet away from the vehicle. It probably disrupted the quality of life for a family of raccoons.

They left then and Turner had the car drop them off at her front door. He watched as she got out of the car and went to her door. Grandfather told him there was an old tradition of walking a girl to her front door after a date. Turner couldn't imagine anyone wanting to walk more than they had to. He watched as she pulled her door shut after giving him a vulgar hand gesture of what she wanted to do the next time.

He had to admit, having a car was a dream come true and it certainly had its advantages.

“Grandpa... you know if you want to use my car just say so. You're more than welcome to,” he told Max.

“You know something? How about you and I going for a drive? It's been years since I just went for a drive. Your grandmother and I used to go out every Sunday afternoon for about an hour,” Max told me.

“I have to put in a plan before we go anywhere. We can't just go for a drive or I'll get a fine. We can go to the store and pick up a few groceries on the approved list. That'll work. I'll go ahead and key it in and then we can get going,” I told him. Driving just for the fun of it was illegal now. Plus, you had to put in what you were going out to get. Certain groceries weren't approved by government standards and while you could pay the hefty credits for non-approved food, you couldn't just decide to go to the store to buy it and make the trip. You'd be fined for an 'unwarranted trip', whether you owned the vehicle or not.

Turner filled out the trip doc, although he seriously questioned if anyone ever checked on the file you posted. Still, it had to be done and he assumed they spot checked trips made in the area against the filings. Grandpa was happy though, getting out of the house. They'd take a long way there and back since the grocery was only twenty minutes away.

“Turner, how can you stand listening to all this advertising? I think I'd shoot myself or your receiver,” Max complained.

“I saved sixty thousand bucks by buying it this way,” he told him. “It's kind of a pain but still... sixty thousand.”

About that time Max ripped one, loud and clear, one that ended in a squeak. It didn't go unnoticed by the car.

“You are allowed three instances of flatulence per day. Anymore than that will result in fines for contributing to climate change. That was number one,” the car verbalized.

“What? Oh, fuck you!” Max shouted at the car.

“Grandpa!” I began to warn him.

“Talking to me in that tone of voice constitutes terroristic behavior resulting in fines and perhaps a prison sentence if it doesn't stop,” the car replied. You have been assessed fifty credits. When you stop your vehicle, you will not be able to resume your trip until the fine is paid.

Grandpa was about to say something else, and by the look on his face it was about to be a doozy, he was so red faced, and the vein in his forehead looked like it was throbbing. Turner quickly covered his mouth with his hand and shot him a look. Hopefully the rest of the trip would be uneventful, otherwise he might regret having taken him for a ride.

Now the advertising they had to listen to was about medicine to relieve signs of flatulence and gas relief. Anything related to it, including constipation was fair game with what was being broadcast inside the car.

Grandpa was getting outdone listening to the advertising. Turner hoped he paid attention to what he said. The grandson watched him in the hopes he could forestall any trouble he might get him into.

“Jesus Christ, Almighty! This is going to drive me insane,” he suddenly blurted without fair warning. Immediately the car went into an explanation assuming it was a request for information.

“Jesus Christ... religious philosopher from the first century. Born in 6BC his actual name was Yeoshua ben Yoseph...” the car began to explain. Turner didn't want the whole historical blurb so he stopped it.

“OK... that's enough. You told me what I wanted to know,” he informed the car. The car stopped.

“Well isn't your car a wealth of information!” Max snidely reported.

“Yeah I didn't have to go to school. If I had my car I could have just sat in it for several hours a day and learned everything I needed to know,” Turner joked as we pulled into the grocery store lot.

“Come on Max, leg's get the groceries,” he said. It wouldn't take long. His list was short.

Once he got what we needed the system in the store would have the items in their cart scanned, totaled and debited against his credits automatically. When he put everything into the trunk, the car would re-scan everything, and verify it matched the store's scan. Copies of everything went into his central file for the government. If for some reason the items didn't match, he would get a notification with a request to explain. He couldn't buy something for someone else, especially someone asking for food without a 'nutritional responsibility form' filled out before giving that person the food. In the home, which was a 'smart home', it would also scan all items taken inside. It kept track of what they consumed so the government knew where every bite of food was at any time. Over consumption resulted in fines and higher insurance rates. You might even be sent to a weight loss camp to rid yourself of your 'food addiction' problems. You were allowed a ten percent discrepancy from your normal daily caloric needs.

Inside the store Max was on his high horse about the car.

“I'd be yanking shit out of there so I wouldn't have to listen to that crap all the time,” he told his grandson.

“I can't do that Max. You know the law. You can't shut off advertising. It's even tougher since I bought a car discounted because of the advertising. I have to listen to it but between you and me I put earplugs in and pull my hat down over my ears so the car can't see, to turn me in to the authorities,” Turner told him , pulling his toboggan down over his ears to show him the plugs.

“Smart, I'll have to get me a pair the next time I head out with you. Do they have them here? he asked.

“You have to get a hat too, to hide them, or you'll get fined for putting them in,” he warned his grandfather. He went and got the plugs and a toboggan.

“Who'd ever think it would come to this? I can't just put ear plugs in, I have to hide them like I'm doing something wrong. Bet me the politicians are listening to all this advertising bullshit,” he complained.

“Hell no, they're getting a cut of the sales they generate with the advertising. Listening to it is beneath them,” Turner added.

Turner threw the groceries into the trunk and told the car to take them home by way of the lake.

“May I remind you , you have an outstanding fine of fifty debits,” which he paid then and the car thanked him. If he had left the car sit without paying the fine, within twelve hours, he would have been assessed an additional fine. Any other time, credits were automatically deducted from your account when you bought something or were assessed. This was just another way for additional revenue.

While the trip was approved for the groceries, the route wasn't. If they exceeded the calculated drive time headed back, Turner would be fined. There was no such thing as speeding to make up time. The car knew all the speed limits and adhered to them. Forget getting out of the car and taking a walk. After 6pm the government cut you some slack. They assumed you were headed out socializing, so you were given extra time if you put your plan in accordingly. You were only allowed socialization privileges three times a week, and then you couldn't be with more than five other people, other than yourself. Of course this didn't pertain to government officials who were known for their outlandish orgies. The times hearkened back to ancient Roman days with the likes of Caligula.

“Your grandmother and I usually drove around the lake on Sundays. It's such a pretty place but you can't stop by the lake anymore. That's fucking illegal too,” Max complained.

“Max!” the grandson cautioned him, but for some reason the car didn't issue a warning or a fine that time. He was relieved. The drive with his grandfather could get costly.

About that time, a squirrel ran out into the street with a black walnut in it's mouth, directly into the path of the car. There was a slight bump and an audible pop as the car ran over it.

“I'm afraid you have to be issued a seventy-five credit fine for the destruction of wildlife and leaving the area in an unsanitary condition,” the car told Turner.

“What?” he yelled. The self-driving car ran over it not me. It's supposed to avoid such things!”

“But you own the car. It's you responsibility,” the car replied. “If you argue you will be assessed a higher rate.”

Enough said. Fines would still be assessed on certain things if he weren't in his own car. This kind of event was the responsibility of whoever owned the car. Government or any of a dozen corporate owned cars didn't experience fines.

“This is bull shit,” Max wrote on his electronic pad and revealing it to his grandson. It was an older pad he used, refusing to give it up for any newer ones, which saved and duplicated everything for the authorities to monitor. His didn't do that, plus everything was encrypted. You could set a time limit to erase whatever you wrote on it. His was set for ten minutes.

It was just annoying, on top of the other monitoring. He was suddenly becoming more aware of it Probably having spent a lot of money for the privilege of being watched made it more noticeable.

Both he and his grandfather fell into silence during the rest of the trip. The flavor of the journey had run bitter. Suddenly listening to the voice of the car had become hideous. Turner could choose to change the voice to any of a hundred styles and even more languages but that wasn't the solution.

When they got home and out of the car, Max really lit up. They couldn't speak freely inside the house with the smart televisions and the computers inside. Even when turned off they monitored everything. Everything funneled through huge cyber systems utilizing AI software. It identified certain words and phrases that could determine your future. At the very least you'd be black balled on social media that affected you financially.

“Hell, in the old days you could at least park your car in a bad area knowing it would be stolen by morning and you could collect the insurance. Now days, it doesn't go anywhere and if for some reason it is taken the son-of-a-bitch drives back to you like some boomerang. I'd get rid of that damn thing,” he told me.

“It doesn't solve anything. If you or I drive in any car we're under the same gun,” Turner retorted.

“Yeah but at least you'd have another sixty thousand to blow on something,” he told his grandson, making a good point. Why spend that much money on something that gives you the shits? Even without the advertising, he would have spent a hundred and twenty-thousand still getting monitored. Heck, you could spend just a few bucks on a package of X-Lax is you wanted the shits!

Car ownership was getting to be a bad move. Turner could sell it but he'd lose half of it right off the bat, something he didn't want, but that could give him play credits back on the stock market. He was confident enough he could make the credits back. It was something to think about anyway. The car might be hard to sell under the conditions. How many people would be willing to spend the money to listen to the obnoxious advertising like he was willing to do?

Turner stayed outside while his grandfather went into the house. He climbed back into his car and just sat there experiencing car ownership. Then the advertising fired up.

Suddenly there was a knock on the window and he must have jumped a foot in his seat, not expecting it. It was Lanie, so he rolled the window down to talk.

“Hi Turner... how are you doing today? She asked him. He was immediately turned on by her. She had a way of looking at you and speaking that just drove a guy nuts.

“I'm doing OK. Much better now talking with you,” he complimented her.

“You're so sweet. We still on for this Friday?” she asked. Turner had forgotten that in the heat of passion last week he had committed to another date.

“You bet. What do you want to do?” he asked her.

“Last week was awfully nice... we don't have to go out to eat though, if you don't want to,” she suggested.

Now, they only did two things that night... they had dinner and then they had each other. If they didn't go out to eat, there was only one other choice. Now that was fine by him, especially if she was OK with it.

“Alright then, I'll put in for socialization,” he told her. Suddenly it occurred to him , 'why do I have to tell the authorities who I'm going to spend time with and where? What business is it of theirs? It isn't like having the date or not was going to be so damned influential with anything the government was or wasn't doing. My only reason for doing so was because of the fine I would get and the possible confiscation of my car, and even worse imprisonment for being uncooperative'.

He went ahead and booked my time for Friday night. He also booked time for the afternoon, later, to go see a rebel friend of his, a person always skirting the edge of the 'dos and don'ts'. He hoped he would be home when he got to his place because he didn't want to phone him in light of the couple questions he wanted to ask.

He took his vehicle but had it leave him at an address around the corner, and two blocks down the street. He didn't want the place to be registered on his trip. He wasn't used to that much walking but he was committed now, especially on the way over, listening to all the advertising. It seemed to have sensitized him to it now, and it was really getting on his nerves. As he approached his friend's front door, it suddenly swung wide open.

“Hey Turner! Welcome... what brings you down here?” Dart asked.

“Hi Dart... well I have a couple things I wanted to talk to you about... privately... no ears,” he warned him.

“It's OK in here. You know me... no smart TVs, no smart phones, everything in here is dumb ass. I have a Faraday cage over the smart meter out here too. I take it off at night. Come on in,” he invited.

The place was in a less desirable place in town. There were rows of old brownstone townhouses in an area no one really bothered with anymore which is why Dart lived here. He was off-grid in the city, or as close to it as you could be, where he was.

“So what brings you down here?” he asked his friend as they both took seats in a couple of old reclaimed recliners.

“I bought my own car a week or so ago with credits I made in the stock market,” he began.

“Sweet! You didn't park it out front did you?” he asked, suddenly getting a concerned look on his face.

“No... I parked a few blocks away. I definitely didn't want any record of being here. That's part of why I'm here. I got the car for half the cost as long as I agreed to its advertising, which is non-stop when I'm in there,” he told the rebel.

“Are you ready to shoot yourself yet?” he asked laughing and shaking his head as he lit up a joint.

“I'm almost there but being exposed to that all the time and having to file trip reports, the monitoring, fines and all the other bull-shit...” he was in the process of telling him.

“Let me guess... you want to know if there's a way to bypass all that shit and not get in trouble?” he asked him as he choked on a drag.

“Exactly,” Turner replied.

“Sure is. Let's go take a look at your car,” he suggested and so they left his place and he led him to it.

When they got there he made note of the model ID number on the outside and VIN number on the dash, just inside the window. He opened the door and released the hood lock to look under the front. He pulled out one of those little dental mirrors they used to stick in your mouth and look at hard to see areas. He wrote down a series of numbers and then took a seat on the curb. Turner sat next to him and watched him input numbers in what looked like a cell phone but something he built for his own use.

“Yeah Amigo. Here's what I have to do. I can render your central board under the hood unusable with basically another board that I place beside it. It'll put out a jamming frequency. This one requires a 411 MHz tone which the board I can put together will have ROM chip I program to emit continuously. It'll operate off your power source,” he explained.

“Won't that send an alert to the authorities?” I asked him, knowing if you fiddled with that central board which was the brain of the car, that controlled everything, it would rat me out.

“Normally it will but I can reproduce your central board with a few additional features that you can leave at home. It will send out signals as if it were coming from your car parked in your driveway. You have to plug it into a power source to run all the time otherwise it will send out an alert because your car will suddenly not exist,” he informed me.

“That's what I want,” I told him.

“I can install the frequency generator in your car but you have to turn on the other board first, where you have it plugged in at home. Immediately, turn on the board under the hood. There will be a slight disruption when you switch but it won't be enough to send out an alert,” he told me.

“That sounds perfect. It'll just look like I never drive the car and it's just parked?” I confirmed.

“Yes, but you should reverse the process once in awhile and drive the vehicle. Spending that much money on a car and then never driving it will raise some suspicions,” he told me.

“I understand. How much is this going to cost and how much time?” Turner asked him ready to get the thing started. He figured taking Lanie out the first time without filing a trip notification would be the test. He already booked the socialization time.

“I'll cut you a break since you're an amigo and do it for $3500. You'll be flying free this time tomorrow. I'll even help you set things up at your home. I'll install the frequency board here and then we can go to your place. I'll make sure you're set up right and answer any questions you have,” he informed him.

“You've got a deal. Half now, half when done?” I asked him and he shook his head. I took my credits card and scanned it into his computer transferring $1750 into his account.

“OK, Turner. I'll see you here tomorrow around 1pm then. Park in the same place you did today. I'll be waiting with the board and tools to install it. It should only take about 5 minutes and then we can head to your place,” he told him giving him knuckles.

Grandfather was out in the garden the next day when Turner was leaving to go to Dart's place. He put a vegetable garden in, hidden from prying eyes or the occasional drone that flew over the neighborhood. Vegetable gardens were illegal to have and to help enforce this, ownership of seeds had been made illegal a number of years ago under presidential edict. Things like compost heaps for vegetables or flowers were also illegal and carried stiff penalties. Several of the neighbors had gardens, refusing to succumb to such idiotic dictates or the unflavorable taste of grocery store produce. Most of the time, the government didn't enforce these rules unless they wanted to.

“Hey Max, I'm headed over to a friend's place and I'll be bringing him back here. He's going to put the fix in on my car to stop all the monitoring, advertising, and shit that I have to fill out driving the thing,” he told him.

“Good for you. Maybe we can use him for some other things in the house,” Max smiled at him .

“Yeah, maybe, but I thought you'd like to know. We can use the car after today to go anywhere we want, whenever, without someone breathing down our necks,” thr grandson informed him as I went to take the car.

“That's good news, Turner. I'll see you guys later then,” Max informed him.

Turner hit the road figuring this would be the last monitored trip he'd be making, other than the occasional one just to look good and not raise suspicion. He passed Dart's place and pulled around the corner parking down the street where he had parked yesterday. There was Dart with his tool satchel waiting. Turner unlatched the hood before getting out of the car and his friend was immediately under the hood fiddling with the central board.

It was less than five minutes when he straightened himself and slammed the hood down.

“That was quick,” Turner told him.

“I told you it was a simple operation. It only took me an hour yesterday to do the programming on board and solder the frequency chip onto it. I just attached it with a clip to the other board and attached an alligator clip to your power source. When we get to your place I'll show you the switch to flip to tun this off and on. You have to do it like I told you or you will set off an alert. Someone may or may not contact you then... typical government, but you don't want to be under the scope,” he told his friend as the car drove them to his place.

They pulled into the driveway a short while later. Max was standing there headed into the garage with some garden tools.

“What have we here... a rebel gardener?” Dart questioned.

“It's my grandfather, Max. He refuses to give up his vegetable garden and I don't blame him. This stuff tastes like food, not the garbage you buy in the grocery,” Turner answered.

“I can't blame him. Why should anyone have the audacity to tell you what you can raise to eat or eat on this planet? Half the food that grows wild is edible. Who's going to monitor that? Who's going to be held responsible?” Dart told his friend as they climbed out of the car.

“Hey, you're Max, Turner' grandfather?” Dart questioned walking over to him.

“And you're the rebel friend of my grandson's? It's good to see someone with the balls to fight back at all the crap going on,” grandfather responded with a handshake.

Dart immediately went to work and had his friend watch him so he knew where the switch was and what he needed to do as grandfather put his garden tools away in the garage... out of sight.

“I'm plugging this other box into your outlet in the garage,” he announced to Turner as well as grandfather who was standing there watching. “It's very important this stays plugged in at all times. Any disruption will show up as an alert that the car is being tampered with. You might want to mark it with a big sign.”

“I'll super glue the damn plug into the socket,” Max announced.

“Actually, that's not a bad idea,” Dart answered.

The transfer of the central board took place to the one in the garage and it was done in less than ten minutes. They left then, driving down the road to a car silenced of its advertising. Turner could actually hear the whir of the electric engine now which he couldn't hear before. Even the sound of the tires rolling across some of the lose gravel on the road was audible. He was ecstatic. Then he thought of Lanie. They could actually go on a date and stay in the car. She could scream to her heart's delight without repercussion.

“You'll be fine now. Just make sure you have power to the board in your garage. When you want the car to be monitored turn the board on in the car first then the one in the garage. Going the other way, the way it is now, turn the board in the garage on first and then turn the one in the car off. It's that simple but easy to screw up if you don't think about it,” he warned me.

Turner planned on setting a specific time each week when he would set up monitoring for the authorities. That way he wouldn't forget and the process would be easy. He couldn't wait until he picked up Lanie for their date. She'd wonder what happened not having to leave the car later, so he'd have to say something to her, swearing her to secrecy.

He picked Lanie up at seven this time since they were just going parking. He brought some beer and goonies with me so we could relax, talk and have enjoyable sex for a few hours.

“You're driving!' she exclaimed when she got into the car.

It took her less than a minute to realize there was silence... an advertising free interior.

“What happened to all the marketing crap?” she asked.

“I got it taken care of, just tell no one. Now we don't have to leave the car. It'll be great in colder weather!” her date pointed out.

The evening went by better than the first time. Lanie's head hung out the window and he never heard anyone scream as loud. There wasn't a voice to admonish her, so she was relentless. They had sex three times by the time Turner started up the car to go home. Now they could even go out more without even biting into their socialization time. If they wanted to go out more than the three times a week allowable, they could... and they did.

The next three weeks were a blur of passion and exploration. They drove everywhere without concern. Half their days were spent on the road. They took day trips to parks and places they had never been. The freedom they both felt was glorious. Neither of them had ever felt anything like this before and something they couldn't see ever giving up anytime soon. They dare not cross state lines though. AI guards stood vigilant. They were able to scan your information to see if you filed a trip report. Besides, it was mostly illegal to just cross the state lines from where you were without prior approval. The country had open borders for illegal immigrants yet state lines were illegal for citizens to cross. Go figure. What was the sensibility in that? They had plenty of places to explore in their state but the fact that someone says you can't do it, presses you to do just that, when your awareness level is up.

Sure as time went on, they pushed some of the edges. As they experienced the extent of their freedom, they explored further. They saw places they only heard about when they were only twenty miles away, but it was like being in another world. They talked to tons of different people and made new friends. They realized this is what life was all about... experience, learning, and meeting different people to do that.

Lanie and I were just getting back from one of our all day trips. We were busy making out in the car as it took us home. Lanie looked up over my shoulder.

“What's going on?” she asked. My entire family was in the driveway while there were two cars, with flashing lights parked in the drive. Turner saw Dart, sitting in the back of the one car looking straight ahead. Max saw my car but ignored it. They were there to get him and his car.

” I'm going to keep driving down the road,” he told his girlfriend.

They both slid down in the seat a bit as they drove by, but the scarcity of cars on the road these days caused the Police Monitors to look around. When he sat back up he noticed the one officer was scrambling to his vehicle.

“Shit they're after us. Turner could exceed the speed limit now since things were disconnected but there was still a seventy mile speed limit on all cars, mechanically manufactured that way. Police cars could go one hundred and twenty miles and hour. It wasn't like they were going to escape by out racing him. They'd have to lose him in a network of streets. If he called for backup they might be finished.

Turner faced severe fines, confiscation of his car and there would be jail time. Lanie would be charged as an accessory, just being in the car with and not reporting him.

“Can't you go any faster?” Lanie yelled.

“No... all cars are built with a top speed of seventy, except police cars and any government cars. We have to see if we can lose them,” Turner explained.

“I'm not about to go to jail for three years,” Lanie cried.

“You and me both. If we murdered someone we'd only get six months,” he yelled back trying to think of a route to take to give this guy the slip.

It was difficult because he still hadn't driven to a lot of different spots yet. Knowing the route to lose someone was a lot different than using the GPS and telling the car to take you from point A to point B.

“Turn here and speed up fast... make a right... now a left... go as fast as you can,” he told himself, but he would no sooner gain some distance from the police, than the chasing car would close the distance.

“Hurry, Turner!” Lanie screamed.

“I'm going to the park we were at earlier,” he told Lanie.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Clearly we aren't going to lose them. If we stay in town they'll block us with another car eventually. Maybe in the country we have a better chance ,” he told her, not really thinking this would work. “They know who I am, and by now they know who you are. We're caught anyway. Maybe we should stop and surrender.”

“Hell no! I'm not going to jail for wanting to see the world a little and just living life,” Lanie told me.

“Who wants to live a life like this anyway. We haven't done anything wrong we just aren't following the dictates of some politicians. Just because they say it's wrong and it's punishable doesn't make it wrong. Like my grandfather questions... how did it ever get to this point?” Turner asked.

“Because our parents let it get to this point. I realize that now. I guess they actually sold us out to...” but Lanie was interrupted as the police car pulled alongside the car.

“Stop the car before we force you to stop under mandate 893-A-09 of the federal monitoring enforcement,” the authorities broadcast.

Turner looked at Lanie. There was no hope in sight.

“Are you sure you don't want to stop?” Turner asked her.

“I'm sure. Fuck this world,” she calmly told Turner as they spun around a corner in the low mountains near the park that had visited earlier.

“Yeah... fuck it,” he exclaimed and the car disappeared from the authorities' view, as it plunged five hundred feet into the canyon.