Clinton, South Carolina, Sunday, August 11, 2019, 2:45 p.m.
In Part Three, suspicion begins to intrude on the traveling camaraderie between the driverless SUV “Freddy” and the passenger “Horace.”
It felt odd to become friends with a machine, but Freddy and I were getting along famously. We traveled all the way to Oregon and back, taking our time, stopping off at places like the Bonneville Salt Flats and Crater Lake because I had never seen them before except from above. I’d slept on couches and spare bedrooms frequently in my life, and the Trek’s seat was comfortable when reclined. Occasionally, we stopped for the night because I needed a genuine bed when my back got a bit stiff. I spent the night in Kansas City on the way out – the Cleveland Indians were in town – and Nashville on the way back.
Gradually, my machine took human attributes in my mind. Freddy took good care of me, but there seemed to be little I could do for him. When I slept and “he” needed me, Freddy gently adjusted the temperature on the seat, raising or lowering it depending on the weather conditions. In the mountains at night, he lowered the driver-side window.
“What? What?”
“I will soon be due for an oil change,” Freddy said.
“I’m guessing there is no opportunity at three in the morning.”
“No. However, a certified service facility is located in Twin Falls, Idaho.”
“Fine,” I said.
“I just wanted to clear it with you. It opens at eight. I wanted your permission in the event that you are asleep when we reach the destination.”
“Find me a good cup of coffee when you get the chance, Freddy.”
“Yes, Horace. Are you not in need of sleep?”
“Nah,” I replied. “I want to talk.”
Allegedly, I was in luck. The truckstop had a neon sign in the window that read “Move Over, Starbucks,” and I thought, well, that’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Coffee is coffee. At a truckstop, at least it’s reliably strong. I filled Freddy’s tank, checked his oil, and bought a container more vat than cup and an apple fritter that was tasty and fresh. Sugar and caffeine. That would do me.
I thought a while and finally brought up the subject that had intrigued me for a while.
“Freddy, do you have opinions?”
“I have analysis,” he said. “You have analysis, too, but humans have opinions. I draw conclusions.”
I thought for a few moments.
“You’re Mister Spock,” I said.
I thought I could feel Freddy whirring.
“Spock S’chn T’gai.” The words he displayed on the video screen.
“Say what?” I asked.
“Mister Spock is a character in the Star Trek media franchise. S’chn T’gai is his Vulcan family name.”
“And Freddy is a character in the Trek SUV franchise,” I said.
“True.”
“The coffee kicked in.”
Silence.
“The stimulation,” I said. “It made me able to come up with a clever observation. A joke. You are a Trek, not a Star Trek. Get it?”
Silence.
“You meant your remark to signify irony,” Freddy said.
“Yes,” I replied. “I didn’t do it very effectively. That’s because you analyzed it.”
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