A Visitor to the Future - 60 - Roads and a Rally
"Speaking of which," said Malcolm, "How do you feel about getting stuck in?"
I nodded, and Sarkona seemed to snap back to reality a bit, doing the same.
"Right, let's put your Proxies to work then. There's a pile of safe chunks of outbuildings that we'd like to load up to be removed and recycled - let me show you where it is."
We made our way out of the old building, Waiola staying behind, her expression unfathomable. Her tone and manner of carrying herself seemed a lot more closed off than those I'd met in the Consortium so far, and was an especially harsh contrast to Malcolm - though maybe my assessment was too critical. After all, she had answered questions and helped to explain things just as much as Malcolm had.
"Malcolm," I decided to ask, "Is Waiola always this - uh - guarded?"
"That's just her way! She reminds me a lot of myself at her age, before experience and my decades working on microplastics pollution dulled my sharp edge a little. She's a valuable addition to the team - always thinking of things from the ecological perspective first. Anyway, here we are." He pointed towards a pile of rubble.
"All you need to do is use your neural link, and use your Proxy to carry the rubble over there!"
"That's a problem already," said Sarkona, pointing towards me, "No neural link."
"Then you'll have to give your Proxy orders the old-fashioned way!"
Sarkona and I spent the next half an hour moving the pile of rubble into a nearby collection walker. The Proxies were very effective at what they did - they were stable even when carrying the heaviest loads. Sarkona, who did have a neural link, could take direct control of theirs, doing a handstand with the machine which I applauded - though they couldn't figure out the extra pair of arms.
"Hey," I said to Sarkona when Malcolm left, "Are you okay? You looked a bit down when Malcolm was talking about the highway project."
Sarkona sighed a little, "Yes, thanks for asking. It's nothing really - it's just that I spent many of my younger years on the road - I've told you how I love automobiles, right?"
I nodded.
"At one point," they continued, "It was possible to go almost anywhere on any landmass by road. I could go to my workshop, fabricate a vehicle from almost any period in history, and just... drive. I met so many interesting people doing that - and found out a lot about myself too. It was like, I don't know, Bio-dev for my mind."
They stared off into the distance, our Proxies carrying out their instructions around us.
"Well," Sarkona continued, "It seems like that's going to be a thing of the past soon. The US Coast-to-Coast Highway is the most significant road transport link in North America. Without it, driving long distances on this continent just got an awful lot harder."
"And that makes you sad?"
"Eh," said Sarkona a little nonchalantly, "It's bittersweet. On the one hand, that's going to be a lot more free space for plants and animals. On the other, I guess it means its finally an end of an era. It's not like I haven't seen road reclamation coming - I could go entire days on my trips without running into another vehicle. Drone-craft and rockets are faster and require none of the road infrastructure that driving does. We simply don't need as many roads any more. And there are dedicated courses for oldteks like me - so it's not like I'll be without somewhere to drive."
They looked across at me, "Oh, I shouldn't be talking about my own nostalgia! I didn't even realise that this might affect you in the same way."
"Sarkona," I said, looking at them sternly, "I have a confession to make. I hate driving."
"What?!" said Sarkona, shocked.
"It was always such a pain for me. I spent most of my mornings stuck in traffic jams, my car was a cheap mess and was always breaking down. Then I'd have to go and fill it up, pay the insurance, check the tire pressure. When I got really sick, it became so exhausting. I really don't get how you like cars so much!"
"But... the open road! The freedom to go wherever you want in your own vehicle? Wasn't that a central theme of the automobiles of your time?"
"I think you have a bit of a rose-tinted view of things in my time," I said, "I don't doubt that was true for you, but for my generation, it was only like that if you were driving a good car, and had lots of free time - I think. I never really had either. I honestly wouldn't know."
"Right," said Sarkona, now driven, "We're going to say goodbye to Malcolm and Waiola, and then we're going to immediately fix this mindset of yours. Automobiles are fantastic and if you didn't get to enjoy them in your time, I will make sure that you can today!"
An hour by drone-craft later, we were at one of Sarkona's favourite rally tracks which catered to vintage 2200s designs - which were visually similar to those of my own time, if a little more aerodynamic. Sarkona spent half an hour reviewing the track, before we got geared up in racing jumpsuits and helmets. It was only when we reached the starting line and Sarkona was revving the engine that I realised that this might be a terrible idea.
Sarkona was usually composed, if a little mischievous and fun. On the rally track they turned into some kind of demon, swearing in all kinds of languages as we barrelled around the course. We swung through turns and corners - I gripped my harness for dear life at first, until I began to realise that Sarkona knew exactly what they were doing. The safety drones littered around the course helped a little too.
It was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life. Sarkona seemed utterly driven to show me exactly what the thrill of automobiles was like, and that passion carried over to their driving. Trees and hills flew by as our vehicle seemed to barely pay attention to the laws of physics. The engine roared in front of us, and before I knew it, the course was complete.
I got out of the car, legs weak with adrenaline and heart pounding. I'd never experienced such a thrill in my own time, the true rallying experience only reserved for the few lucky enough to experience it.
"So?" said Sarkona, helmet now tucked under one arm, leaning on the side of the mud-plastered vehicle.
There were many competing sensations in that moment - the adrenaline, the feeling of the sheer absurdity of it all, the sensation of my breakfast rising out of my stomach - but nestled in the back, there was some small part of me wanted to give it a go too.
I had to admit, it certainly beat being stuck in traffic.