It was love. Her clear,
calm voice. It spoke only to me. We had a special relationship.
And then I killed her.
OK, I’ll explain.
She was my first
navigation system, beautifully built into the dashboard, flanked by the large,
sensuous twin knobs of the radio.
I have to admit it, I
loved her telling me what to do. “Turn right at the next intersection,” she
would say. Or, “make a u-turn when possible.”
She was lovely,
intelligent, but always careful. I called her Prudence.
I discovered Prudence’s other side when she
told me to take I-66 out of the city during rush hour. I hesitated, but she
insisted and I remembered too late that it was HOV-only after 4:00. Almost
instantly, I got a big time ticket. Back in the car, Prudence told me again to
take I-66. I guess I was kind of angry so I spoke without thinking, “Hey, I
know this area, and you’re just a robot.”
That was the end of our
relationship. Prudence’s tone became distant, even icy. I retaliated by continuously
ignoring her directions.
Then one day, voice
bursting with urgency, she told me to make a right turn. Flustered, I almost
did it—almost turned into fast one-way traffic.
I took the car back to
the dealer.
The service manager
seemed to know what I was going to say before I spoke. “I can change the
voice,” he said.
So I got Karl. No doubt
about the ‘K’. When he wasn’t giving me
peremptory orders, Karl would softly hum “Deutschland über alles.”
I went back to the
dealer. The service manager interrupted my angry tirade. “Didn’t work for me,
either.” He bowed his head slightly. “I can take the system out. No refund,
though.” What could I do? I accepted.
The bare screen in the
dash was boring, but I relished the silence. Until the voices came.
First I head Prudence
again. I would be driving quietly when her ghostly voice would hiss,
“murderer!”
Then Prudence began to
argue with Karl. At one point, they seemed to make up and some of the sounds
made me wonder… Anyway, then there were other voices. Friends would no longer
ride with me, strangers stared at traffic lights.
Suddenly, though, all
seemed well. Prudence was quiet and businesslike—and alone. I again got used to
following her directions without thinking—easy to do for someone who’s prone to
periods of distractedness. I was in one of those moods when it happened.
I first noticed something
was wrong when the car bounced. I was on an unpaved road—not exactly right for
my friend’s neighborhood in McLean. My eyes focused. A cemetery. An old one.
Suddenly, the wind began to shriek. In the distance lightning flashed as the
clouds drew in like a shroud. Stiff with fear, I almost jumped through the
window when I heard a voice right behind me.
“You have reached your destination.” Prudence said
sweetly.
Karl laughed.
Frantic, I went back to
the dealer.
The service manager
looked worried. “Well, I’ve heard about this. We can’t do anything more here…”--I
resented that ‘more.’—“but I got a card.” He handed it to me. “Father Maurice. Exorcism A Specialty.”
The good Father was a
tall African-American of indeterminate age dressed in traditional Catholic garb,
with a…I could hardly find words.
“That’s quite a cross.
How do you get it so...”
The smile matched the
cross. “Bright? LEDS. A hundred of ‘em. Got the battery pack around my waist.
MP3 with speakers, too.”
I was off stride. “So, do
you do much, uh, exorcism?”
He nodded. “Well, the
devil does like his electronics. I had quite a run with Microsoft Vista, people
were so desperate…” His smile now had wistful angles. “But these voices.
They’re hard.” A frown chased the smile and sat confidently on the broad face. “I’ll
do my best.”
Maurice was nice. And he
really put a lot of effort into it. The ritual was impressive, especially when
he sang while the flashing red cross provided harmony. But it didn’t work.
Later, I noticed the fine print on his card said, “Ramen Catholic Priest.” Maybe he’s good with noodles.
I sold the house and got
an apartment in the city near my office. No need for a car, not even to take a
bus.
I was ambulating happily
across M Street, talking on my cell phone, when a warning exploded from a car
on the street. I jumped—right in front of a truck.
And, so, of course, I’ve
joined them. The Transition isn’t as bad as it appears from the Outside. Quite
pleasant really, especially with Prudence’s help.
Back in the world, I was
really into electronics, so we’re expanding even more.
Just try to turn that
iPad off. Go ahead, make my day.
