Forums » General Roleplay » Sands of Time (1x1)

Clutch grumbled under his breath but didn't retract the cable. "Keyric. I'm Clutch. You're in the Sander's garage, a repair shop mostly. Bill Sanders runs the place, and Chris, his son, owns me. They're pretty good about fixing up random AI vehicles, but lately they've been inundated. We have two or three others right now, not including you."

Clutch trailed off. "How old are you? An AMC Pacer? I haven't heard of your kind in a while." He quickly began a short diagnostics on the vehicle.

''I'm....About 17 in human years. I was..Supposed to be a mailing car but my owners decided after 10 years they'd toss me...Aside. I..Barely can speak...'' She replied. The damage was harsh, burying her core into the gas tank of hers and making it leak ever so slowly. ''I'm pretty..Old. Pacers are often...Declared lemons. My...Time is coming to an end..''

Clutch snorted, a puff of static coming from his speakers. "I used to be a lemon myself, Keyric. I'm not anymore thanks to Chris. He was able to replant my AI core into another, working car."

He sprayed his windshield with washer fluid as though to emphasize the point that he was in working order. Never mind that he still dripped rainwater from having been outside.

Keyric winces. ''Are you sure they...Just won't send me to go to the...Scrap heap? I'm just a service car...Thats too old to...Be used anymore..''

Clutch beeped his horn. "I can't say for sure. I'd imagine they'll take a look at you though to see what you have to offer. Although if they saved me from the scrap heap, I don't see why they wouldn't save you, also."

Bill was returning to garage by this point, his footsteps echoing as he dripped his way into the garage. "Ah, good, just what I needed," he said, casting a glance over the two cars.

Keyric gulps, and her red eyes creak open rustily as she glances at Bill. But without her glasses she couldn't see much from aged vision from old cameras. ''Y-yes? Who's there?'' She asked nervously.

Bill would have jumped, except that he was so drenched with rain and so used to AI cars that he hardly even flinched.

"Bill Sanders, owner and chief mechanic of the Sander's Garage. Did the towman leave already?"

''Y-y-yes.'' She stammered. ''I'm k-k-Keyric, an AMC Pacer. My speakers s-s-shot...'' And she looks at Clutch weakly then back at Bill. ''But the t-t-towman didn't say why they b-b-brought me here. I was in a d-d-ditch.''

Bill sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The problem with AI cars, he thought wearily, was that they could talk and tell you their problems. Which made it that much harder to destroy them.

"What condition is your AI core in?" he asked instead.

''I-it got pushed into my gas tank I'm l-l-leaking gas from it being there. I f-f-figured I'm just i-i-in for scrap....Since no one has a u-u-use for me a-anymore.''

At the mention of a gas leak, Bill swore and lurched forward to peer under the car's body. If there was gas draining, it could be dangerous. But it was nearly impossible to tell if the moisture of the car was from gas or rain water.

He made a note not to start up any flames and to air out the garage. He recovered after a moment. "What exactly was your purpose? Who was your prior owner?"

''I am a 1994ish prototype AMC Pacer created for the sole purpose of delivering m-m-mail until I got stuck i-i=in a d-d-ditch. I have a standard issue engine which is faulty a-a-and doesn't h-h-hold my core properly. My prior owner was M&M Mailing Co. in Alaska and California.'' She inquired.

All the while she seemed to ignore the envelope papers sticking part-way out from her hood. One falls out and lands on the wire that connected her to Clutch.

Clutch's speakers crackle due to the interference and Bill quickly reaches over to grab the letter. "What have you got under your hood?"

He starts to lift the hood...

Keyric flinches, the warped hood tearing loose anyway once it was opened. She growls lightly, but doesn't move as her red eyes glanced at her front where the hood had got accidently removed. ''Well..u-u-u-uh...'' She stammered in a panic, gulping harshly as the contents under her hood could be seen.

Revealing stacks of unopened bills,letters, and tickets which were all adressed to someone familiar.

(.....)

"What is it?" Clutch asked, unable to see what was happening.

Bill was quiet for a moment; before placing the broken hood over on the floor of the garage. And then he began to sort through the mail.

"Clutch...how many times did you speed when you were created?"

Clutch was quiet a moment. "Why do you ask?"

A heavy "thump" was the sound of at least two dozen letters hitting the ground. "Because at least half of these bills are addressed to your license plate number. And the other half are to Chris..." He ran a hand through his hair. "How long ago were you in the mailing business? When did you stop couriering mail?"

''I w-w-was a mail carrier for about 9yrs after I was created. All the other m-m-mailers were hesitant to drive around these streets so I took the job up. The mail was usually stored i-i-in a compartment built near my tires so I could slide the mail into the post office box. T-t-though at some point a car rammed into my side and put me out of work for a f-f-few weeks....''

''I o-o-offically quit the job 3yrs ago. I g-g-guess they stuck the remaining mail in my hood...B-b-but I honestly don't know how I got in the d-d-ditch or why my h-h-hood is warped.''

Bill cleaned out the remaining letters from Keyric's hood as the car brought him up to date on its history. At last he hefted the mountain of mail onto a work bench and let it teeter precariously.

"Well, I'm guessing the warped hood happened at the same time the ditch did. And seeing as how there's no blood on your interior, I doubt that there was too much injury. It's probably not surprising you don't remember the accident; a jarring to your AI core probably shorted you out, but that's just a hypothesis."

Bill crossed his arms as he looked Keyric over. "The question running through my mind, however, is whether you're worth fixing up. I've already got two others that need fixing up and they don't even have paying drivers. If you can find me a number or address or name of your drivers, I can try to look them up. And maybe we'll actually get paid for once."

'T-t-the only address I h-h-hold in memory is 368 Co. Rd. 309 Tiretown, New Jersey 7846.'' She replied nervously, glancing at Bill weakly. ''Their a company dedicated to mailing out bills and the like and have been in operation for decades now. It's the company I worked for, even though they...Seemed to have an endless supply of cores. This isn't even my real body. They just stuffed my core into it and told me to work or else it was off to the scrap heap.'' She whimpered. ''Since my core was delivered to them, but they never said who.''

Bill looked over at Clutch. "Can you run the address in your GPS, Clutch? Thanks." The buick grumbled as he did what Bill asked and then beeped.

"It's still in service," Clutch replied.

Bill then scowled and rubbed his head. "You said they have even more AI cores there?"

By now the rain had stopped and the sound of a couple of engines pulling up the driveway. He peered out to see that Chris and a couple of others were returning. Fantastic. Well, maybe Chris would have a field day with this.

''Y-y-yes.'' She stammered, her core beeping lightly in response to others pulling up outside. ''Who's outside?'' She asked weakly, then shut off from her core losing power as gas soaks the floor underneath.

CD honks her horn, then yelps when 54 bumps into her bumper and sets her alarm off.