Mad Crab Mojave: Chapter 21
The black ribbon of the road stretched out in front of them, then abrupt dove into darkness. Marvin’s dim headlights illuminated a bare strip the width of inches along the pavement. The only hint of landscape was a scrubby creosote creeping close to the highway’s edge. At night, the car relied on infrared and sonar, “for long-range situational awareness.” He only kept his headlights on to warn others. It had been many years since Jones had experienced darkness. He sucked on gatorade. The cramping in his calves began to ease.
Marvin pulled into an island of pavement flooded with light. A small rest stop, surrounded by solar panels, glowed nearby. Marvin switched off his headlights. “Welcome to Searchlight. May I ask you a question?”
“Always,” mumbled Jones. His back ached and he had to pee.
“Did you try the simulation?”
“Yes,” said Jones. “For a moment. I’ve always avoided those things. It was strange - moving between realities in a heartbeat. Like I'd been reformatted.” He paused, realizing who he was talking to. “I prefer - I’m used to transitions.”
“What is it like for you?” Marvin asked. “If that’s not too personal. Having to think all the time, even when you’re not working. What do you think about?”
The trace of pity in Marvin’s voice took Jones by surprise. He cast about for something that would impress the robot, but came up blank. “I think a lot about lunch. Guilt. Someone who's recently wronged me. Or I imagine that I'm having an argument with my ex-wife, and I'm winning.”
“That sounds terrible,” Marvin said. “You can’t short-circuit it?”
“I suppose that’s what Virtual Vegas is for,” Jones snapped, suddenly angry. His stomach ached. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Sure,” said Marvin. “Get whatever you want. I’ll have them charge it to me.”
Jones pulled on his shoes and stumbled across the lot. Even in the dark night the pavement was warm under the soles of his sneakers. Fleets of disabled tractor trailers lined up in rows. The satellite signals they needed for their instructions had gone silent. Now they were stuck, waiting without complaint to get back on the road. Jones looked for signs of Mad Crab, but there were no cyborgs in sight. He was the only person in the plaza.
Inside, Jones rummaged around in a lukewarm cooler of drinks. At the exit, the payment kiosk displayed a list of his charges, and asked if he'd like his fortune. "Yes," tapped Jones, but nothing happened. The machine was out of paper.
A small waste basket sat next to the kiosk, filled with discarded, crumped scraps. Jones picked one out and read it. “YOU WILL ABANDON THIS WILD GOOSE CHASE.” He snatched up another. It said the same thing. BeyondMelinda had infiltrated the plaza’s systems. Jones realized that her followers must have gotten an order from his ex-wife to leave him alone, but that she was determined to keep him out of her private affairs. He had to find a way to get beyond her distributed range.
Frustrated, Jones raised his voice to the empty room. “We could just talk,” he said, casting his voice over the buzz of the florescent lights. “It doesn’t always have to be this cryptic between us.” No one answered. Nothing had changed. Jones was still alone.
Out in the parking lot, movement caught his eye. Jones ducked behind a rack of potato chips and peered out into the plaza. Swaddled figures filtered into the plaza from the edge of the scrub desert. They popped into view one by one as they entered the range of the plaza’s blue beams.
Carrying crowbars and clubs, the figures descended on the stalled tractor trailers and began to pry them open like tin cans. A few of them approached Marvin, and he flashed his headlights in warning. They backed away and started to look around for his passenger. Marvin drove around to the front door of the rest stop. Jones grabbed a few extra bags of chips and piled into the backseat. Marvin switched off his headlights and accelerated at top speed, jumping off of the pavement into the wasteland beyond. Jones looked out the window. A few shrouded figures were standing at the edge of Searchlight, watching them drive away. They shook their head among themselves and walked back to join their companions. One of the trucks was already open. They unloaded its contents onto the pavement with practiced, rapid coordination. Jones gripped the seat as Marvin jolted onto the highway.
“Did those look like cyborgs to you?” he asked Marvin.
“They looked like standard humans to me,” said Marvin. “But I have not trained on cyborgs specifically. I should ask Agent Moss if she has a patch for that. I wish you had infrared. These irregular alluvial deposits are quite fascinating. You should go to sleep. Would you like me to play you some binaural beats?”