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Connor woke up in the back seat of a taxi, to the gentle lull of the radio. Blearily opening his eyes, he looked around, taking in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, the seat in front of him with stickers stuck on it, and the divider between him and the driver.
“Hello,” he greeted, sitting up in his seat with a stretch, loosening his artificial muscles, “where are we going?”
The driver didn’t pull the divider down. Instead, he continued to hum, only sparing a glance to the rear-view mirror, his gaze cold.
“Where are we going?” he repeated, then leant forward and tapped on the glass divider.
With a huff of breath, the driver pressed a button and the divider eased down.
“Where are we going?” Connor asked for the third time.
“Hello.” The driver replied.
Connor sat back in his seat, LED whirring yellow as he processed this. He thought it best not to ask that question again, and so it would remain unanswered.
“Hello.”
The driver nodded and looked back to the road. When Connor looked out of the window, the road looked endless. Nothing identifiable in sight, only the crawling expanse of the wilderness and the sleek stretch of tarmac ahead of them.
“Where are you going?” The driver asked.
Connor blinked and looked away, at his lap, as if expecting some indication of his destination to materialised there. His lap remained empty.
“Somewhere,” he replied. “Somewhere else.”
The driver nodded. “I won’t ask any questions.”
Connor looked back up from his lap, taking in the rest of his surroundings. The stickers on the back of the seat ahead of him were dinosaurs, the most notable one being a deep shade of green with lighter-coloured spikes coming from their back. There was also a blue one, with a long and twisting neck.
“Dinosaurs,” he commented.
“Yes.” The air suddenly grew thick with tension. “What do you think about them?”
“I think they’re alright.”
The car stopped suddenly, the screech of the breaks ringing in his ears. The driver turned back to look at him.
“Alright? They’re just alright?”
“They’re nice stickers, if that’s what you’re implying,” Connor replied, “but I prefer dogs.”
Suddenly, the driver had raised his arm and was holding a gun over the divider.
“You’re going to think very hard about what you said.”
Connor gulped, LED blazing red. This man must really love dinosaurs.
“I apologise. Dinosaurs are—”
“I know what you think. Don’t lie to me.” He gestured violently with the weapon, brows creasing in rage. “You’re on thin ice.”
“Perhaps I’ll walk,” Connor suggested, reaching for the door handle. It was a futile effort; it was locked.
“Have you seen the new movie?” the man asked. “The one with the dinosaurs?”
“Yes,” Connor replied without missing a beat.
“WRONG!” he screamed. “It hasn’t come out yet!”
“Oh dear.”
The driver took a faltering breath, perhaps an attempt to calm himself, but this didn’t work. His hands shook as he gripped the gun tighter, before he turned back to face Connor.
Without a word, he pulled the trigger, and…
Connor woke up in bed with a start. His thirium pump beat rapidly, and he held a hand over the space he was shot… but of course, it had only been a dream. He looked to the poster on his wall and sighed. “Playing Road 96 was a mistake. Damn you, Jarod.”