2011: An Apple Odyssey

By John Michael Thornton

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, but Frank Poole was wide awake, staring out his window at the street below. When a white sedan pulled to the curb, displaying the nimbleness of a prepubescent Chinese gymnast, Frank grabbed his backpack and sprinted down the stairs.

Stepping outside he saw his best friend Dave leaning against the hood of a new iCar. They had waited years for it to hit the market and now, beholding the brushed aluminum and white plastic, every day felt worth it.

“What do you think?” said Dave.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Why, thank you Frank,” responded a female voice—cool, precise, yet…seductive?

“Was that the car?”

Dave nodded. “It parked itself, it can search the internet, it plays my music. The iCar can even bake me brownies. I told her your name on the way over and she remembered it. How sick is that?”

“What else did you tell her?”

“E.D. is nothing to be ashamed of, Frank. Many men experience that problem. Judging by your recent history, can I suggest ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’ by Queen to get you back in the groove?”

Frank slugged Dave in the arm. “Thanks a lot,” he said, feeling a bit violated.

The dash was white plastic and chrome, with the exception of a ten-by-ten-inch screen where the wheel should have been. It was like driving a Malevich painting.

“iCar, why don’t you drive us up to the mountains, so we can show Frank what you’re capable of.”

“Whatever you wish, Dave.”

The mountain roads were empty that early in the morning. They revved up inclines and whizzed down hills, gliding through miles of hairpin turns…until a rattling sound started from the rear of the car.

“What’s that sound, iCar?”

“I just ran a diagnostic Dave. Nothing is the matter.”

The rattling turned into a repetitive thump and Dave suggested they pull over.

“Maybe you should’ve waited for the Windows Car,” Frank quipped. They both snickered.

When the car stopped, Dave opened the door and walked to the rear of the car. A minute later he stuck his head through the open driver’s window. “Contact the closest Apple Store, iCar.”

“I don’t know why you would want to do that, Dave. All my systems are completely operational.”

He got back in. “Don’t worry, they’ll open you up and find out what’s wrong. Call the nearest Apple Store, iCar.”

After a brief hesitation, the screen’s speaker started ringing. Then a muttonchopped Genius Mechanic filled the screen. “Apple Store.”

“Hi, my name is Dave Bowman, I just bought a new iCar yesterday. We’re up in the mountains, how can I….” The line went dead.

“I’m sorry, Dave. The reception must be too weak here to make a call,” iCar said coolly. “Your voice sounds quite tense. Why don’t we stop all of this and just dance?” The screen displayed a hypnotic collection of black silhouettes, banging their heads to AC/DC. It took all of Dave’s power to jerk his head away from the screen. He glanced down at his iPhone and saw he had full bars.