2084: Slavery Resurgent

“Wither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?”-Jack Kerouac

Franklin was fed up with commuting via hoverbus. He not only wanted a new vehicle, he needed a new vehicle – nothing too expensive – something reliable. Instead of going to church on Sunday, his day off, he decided he could spend his time more wisely by visiting the Auto Center.

He no sooner stepped onto a dealership than three salivating salesmen set upon him like a pack of hungry dogs. Performing an about face, he promptly left. The second dealership proved little better. Finally, at the end of the street, Franklin found a saleslot where there was only one salesman on duty. The salesman pointed out the fashionable body styles and bright, shiny paint jobs, but Franklin was more interested in reliability, particularly what was covered by the warranty and for how long.

“Can I use my wheeled truck as a trade-in?,” inquired Franklin.

“Does it run? There isn’t much call for gasoline powered trucks nowadays. There’s a market for them on Prince Edward Island up north in Canada, but it costs me to ship them there. It might be worth it to drive it there and sell it yourself. Without a trade-in, I could give you a lease on a pre-owned hydrogen powered hover for less than $300 a month. Just look at this convertible, auto pilot and leather upholstery. It’s the perfect ride for an up-and-coming gentleman like you. I would have bought it myself, if I wasn’t afraid my kids and dogs would tear it up. Only three years old, less than 20,000 miles on the odometer, and twelve cylinders of thrust; this baby will get you anywhere you want to go. I can make you a rock bottom deal. Walk over to my office with me and we can work out the details.”

It was a bit past midday and already the sun directly overhead was torturing Franklin. The asphalt sales lot was blistering hot. By the time they reached the shack that the salesman referred to as an office, Franklin’s new Hawaiian shirt was dripping wet with sweat. The office offered little relief. A dinky fan on a table fought a losing battle with the unrelenting heat. The salesman took two bottles of water from a small refrigerator and handed one to Franklin who downed it in one long gulp. Looking down, the salesman gave the second bottle to Franklin who gratefully accepted it and guzzled it faster than the first.

“The nameplate on the desk identified the salesman as Cedric Dickelsin. Since the sign in front of the sales lot read ‘Dickelsin Motors,’ Franklin assumed he was dealing with the owner or a close relative. Good, because his unusual credit history would ultimately require approval by the owner. Franklin desperately needed a hover and he needed it now.

“Please extend your right hand, palm up. In order to determine your eligibility for a lease, I need to scan your microchip,” said Cedric, removing a scanner from his desk drawer. “Under law, I cannot sell or divulge your financial record to any third party.”

Franklin stuck out his right hand, commenting, “I haven’t been microchipped.”

“I thought everybody had a microchip. Doctors implant babies shortly after they are born. It has been years since I last came across someone without a microchip. Why not go to a hospital and get an implant? It doesn’t hurt. As part of the deal, I’ll even pay for it,” offered Cedric.

“I have never had one. From what I have seen, I am better off without one. The implant on your own right palm appears to be oozing puss,” observed Franklin.

“Yes, it’s red, but I don’t think it’s infected. Implants were never designed to be scanned as often as they are today. It probably needs a rest. Also, I have been scratching it lately. It’s my fault entirely.”

“I have enough health problems without having to worry about a malfunctioning implant,” Franklin mused. Suppose I pay you $300 cash each month. If I’m late to make a payment, you can repossess it. What do you have to lose?”

“I am not comfortable having cash on hand. People have been murdered for less than $300. I absolutely refuse to take cash.”

“All business involves risk,” Franklin retorted. “By law, you are required to accept cash. As if to prove his point, he took a $20 bill from his wallet and handed it to Cedric. “On the front of the bill, in the left hand corner, it unmistakably states, “this note is legal tender for all debts, public and private.”

“Are you threatening me with legal action?”

“No threat intended, I was simply informing you that I have the right to pay cash. And you will come out ahead by avoiding the fee that banks charge for credit transactions.”

“I am not used to doing business this way,” Cedric declared. “I suppose I could make an exception, but I require a $500 down payment and I don’t want to be burdened with your unlicensed trade-in. With registration, down payment, sales tax, and other fees, it will cost you $876.32 to drive it home today. Let’s call it an even $876 and I will throw in a free pine air freshener and a full tank of hydrogen.

“What about the warranty?,” asked Franklin.

“Ninety days or three thousand miles, whichever comes first.”

Franklin removed his wallet from a rear pants pocket and gave Cedric nine, crisp, one hundred dollar bills.

“Sorry, I’m used to dealing in credit, so I don’t keep change on hand,” apologized Cedric.

“Apply it to my next monthly payment,” Franklin suggested.

* * *

Although Franklin had a valid driver’s license, this was his first time driving a hovercar. There was nothing difficult about it. He programmed the GPS with his starting address and his ending address. Then he placed his right thumb on an identity sensor and jets of hydrogen ignited all twelve cylinders. Three colored squares appeared on the altimeter: blue for ground level, pink for secondary level, and burgundy for top level traffic. Because it was only a few blocks to his apartment, Franklin touched the blue square and shifted the transmission into autopilot. Before he could turn on the air conditioner, he had reached home and at his verbal order, the hovercar parked itself against the curb.