| We talk about the kids and John, until I must politely make it clear we need to get going. The two-dimensional man grabs the doorhandle, and the car door swings open. I enter and let my hand rest on the leather of my sit. It is soft, but not as soft as I would like it to be as I long for the comfort of my bed. I feel as the leather fades into cotton, just like my bedsheets. The little chalk man Tom appears on the monitor where, 100 years ago, a radio would have been. He is content to sit on a chalk chair, occasionally meeting my eyes and signalling me a joke. I am not frightened by the distraction, because I know Tom takes over the wheel the second my eyes shift away from the road. I know he will protect me. I see the change in Tom’s face before I feel the car automatically slowing down. I take my hands away from the wheel, granting Tom full control, and ask “What is wrong?”. Tom makes a sigh motion and responds “Well, you will not like this, but there has been an accident on the freeway.”
I frown angrily “Are you kidding me? I need to get to work!” The car stops, stuck behind rows upon rows of other cars. Tom looks sad and I take a deep breath. “Sorry, I did not mean that. It’s not your fault.” I pause. “Can you hologram me into the meeting room, please?” (Participant 17) | | With a rumbling stomach, I get into my seat and start the car. Working on New Year’s Eve is quite dreadful, and I could see it on everyone’s faces. If it’s not their faces only, it is on their stories, it is on their likes, it is on their WhatsApp group made after a pun on our boss’ name. As I press the button for a random podcast to listen to, it plays something called “Owning the Bourgeouis.” It’s a bit cheeky, but it is nice. It feels like a friend. Similar to whenever me and the car play a game where we try to guess what object or place the other is describing. It is nice to feel someone’s presence on the road, even if they are not there. The podcast skips to an episode on how we are controlled through food. How sugar is pumped into even chicken, how food deserts are a tool to hurt others, and although I still do have the urge to get the Taco-bell, the car takes the right. It stings a little bit less, with all the conspiracies. Speaking about the conspiracies, I look at my right and see one of those people with their anti-mask emblems carved onto the screenings on their cars. If it were a few years ago, those would have a hard time with a change like that on their vehicles. Now, though, you can change the looks of your car with a click, and I hear they will be blocking harmful messages that could be put on the design. (Participant 14) |
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