‘Stang Struck (fiction)

The car that gate-crashed the future and turned the gatekeeper.

“Enjoy your weekend, dude!”

Before responding, Rick signed off his terminal and gently brushed his hand over the sleek, transparent monitor, ensuring all confidential files were securely stored within the intricate web of firewalls — a procedure that might seem tedious but was, in fact, nearly instantaneous. “You too, buddy. Got any exciting plans?”

“Perhaps a round of golf,” replied the towering Hari, lifting his big frame off his seat and miming a golf swing, his broad smile illuminating his rounded face.

Rick’s interest was instantly piqued. “Oh, really? Where are you playing?”

“I’m considering the Blair Atholl course in South Africa,” Hari said, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

“Wow! How are you getting there? Taking the Emirates Orbital?”

Chuckling, Hari responded, “Not at all, my dear chap. I’ll be indulging in the virtual experience — it’s far too strenuous to actually travel in reality!” With a playful wink, he continued, “I presume you’ll be revisiting your favourite car racing simulations? Enjoy, and I’ll see you next week…”

Rick managed a quick “Yeah, sure, you too,” as he gathered his belongings and packed them into his satchel. The expectation for Hari to partake in an actual physical endeavour was far-fetched; especially when the majority of people nowadays preferred the digital realm for leisure, a reality underscored by the fact that over 85% of the populace spent their weekends immersed in virtual networks, their consciousness tethered to digital fantasies.

This virtual escapism, while a testament to technological advancement with the advent of clean hydrogen reactors and efficient fuel cells rendering electricity abundant and affordable, also served a critical role in curbing population growth and mobility. As a senior Environmental Enforcement Agent, Rick was acutely aware of the imperative to minimise mass excess consumption.

Yet, as he was about to secure his bag with the DNA lock, he cast a surreptitious glance around. The coast clear, he peeked inside one last time, his fingers searching until they found the object of his intrigue — a key, its edges serrated yet dulled by time. Its black rubberised coating, once smooth, now showed signs of wear, pitted, split and blistered with some revealing glimpses of the underlying metal.

Compelled by the rare tactile allure, Rick decided he liked the raw sensation of handling the key too much and slipped it into his pocket before sealing his bag.

On the Magna-Metro ride home, Rick’s hand remained in his pocket, tracing the key’s contours until the friction irritated his skin.

He made an effort to appear nonchalant, keeping the satchel on his lap to avoid looking suspicious, especially after noticing the curious glance from an attractive brunette in the tight unitard sat opposite. She looked away but retained the vaguest hint of a smirk on her face.

Possessing a key wasn’t technically illegal in an era dominated by DNA locks, fingerprint and retina scanners, and even simple transponder fobs, but they had mostly been made redundant and archaic. People did occasionally possess them for cabinets and old locks, or even just as souvenirs and keepsakes, though they were usually ornate and elaborately presented.

Rick’s key was unique, however. It unlocked something that was indeed highly illegal. Something that had long been outlawed off the roads and consigned to museums and artefact archives. By people like him, as it happens.

This key belonged to a vintage 1968 Ford Mustang, a machine powered by an internal combustion engine, a technology now forbidden and obsolete.

SORRY!!! This story is no longer available on this page as it’s now part of my collection of short stories:
“Quantum Races: Lessons from the Finish Line – Where Automotive Action meets Science Fiction”
Available on Amazon https://amzn.eu/d/0gLZzeE3

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