Drive

by Jazzaman


Discovery

Are machines alive?

Have you ever asked yourself this question? Have you ever looked at your television or a coffee maker and thought, ‘What if it could hear me?’

Do the mechanical constructs that fill humanity’s daily existence have their own experiences? Their own lives? What tales could your refrigerator or traffic light tell you?

What about your car?

Every mangled mass of steel has a story to tell. Whether it be a tale of speed, guts, talent or style. For years, since the first automobile was made, people have claimed their cars had personalities. That they were sitting there, day after day, year after year, watching everything.

What stories could a car tell?


“Ow!” the small colt cried as yet another rubbery tree branch snapped back into its desired position, clipping him across the face as it did so. The young pony had decided to forego playing in the dull, confined backyard of his home, in favour of the vast, unexplored wilderness that was the Everfree forest.

Rubbing his now sore cheek with a hoof, he pressed on. He knew of the dire consequences should his mother find out what he was up to, but the adventurous colt simply couldn’t resist. There was so much in the tall timbers that had yet to be discovered, begging for someone to claim it.

Of course, he was nowhere near brave enough to venture more than a few hundred metres into the forest. Despite his self-proclaimed bravery, as with any seven-year-old the tales of the boogy pony were fresh at the forefront of his mind.

It was because of this that the young colt was too busy watching the surrounding bushes to notice the ledge in front of him.

“Ack!” he spluttered as the dirt suddenly gave out from under him. The air not being so kind as to support him, he tumbled down the small incline, landing unceremoniously in a heap at the bottom of the slope.

A pained moan escaped him as he rubbed his head, it having cushioned most of his fall. After managing to stop his eyes from floating around in their sockets, he looked back up the hill. Navigation-wise, it wasn’t anything too hard to go through, though the piles of felled branches and scattered leaves would make an ascent back up treacherous.

Grumbling at the new obstacle, he turned looking for an alternate, preferably lazier path to escape the small gully he was now in.

That was until something caught his eye- something odd. At first, his young mind almost brushed it off as an oddly shaped rock. But, upon closer inspection, he noted that this ‘rock’ seemed to posses sheets of glass.

Curious, he approached, ever so eager to study this strange, somewhat rusty object. Raising a hoof, he banged on the side, earning a dull ‘thunk’ indicating that the ‘rock’ was, in fact, metal.

Its peculiar shape only further puzzled the pony. From what he assumed was its side, it was curved at the vertices. There was a clearance between the bottom of the main structure and the ground, provided by four small wheels.

        The colt assumed they were wheels, at least; though, he had never seen anything quite like them. They were miniscule compared to wagon wheels and were covered in strange black rings that seemed to have deflated slightly.

        Walking around the structure, he noted that the strange wheels were all in varying states of flattening, giving the object a lopsided look.

        It was obvious to tell that it had been here a while. The remnants of faded blue paint struggled to stand out against the flaky rust that had overtaken much of its exterior.

        Grass and weeds thrived in the clearance beneath and around it. The raised section in the middle where the glass was had collected an enormous amount of dirt and sticks on the top.

        The ‘front’ seemed to be missing a large section. snapped hinges underneath the forward window indicated that something had, at one point, attached there. Most likely, to cover the bizarre mess of pipes and rotted wires that were jammed into the space between the two front wheels.

        Long, spindly towers of dried grass poked through gaps in the opening. Twigs and the remains of what looked like a bird’s nest were jammed into the little nooks around the big lump of metal that the whole front of the thing seemed to cradle.

        Cracks ran through the glass nearest the front. It was plain to see that it had suffered some kind of impact, most likely a branch or rock.

        Moving back around to the thing’s side, the colt reared up on his hind legs, putting his forehooves against the rusted metal, allowing him to peer inside. He noted that within the craft there were two long benches, one behind the other. The one closest to him seemed to have a complex array of strange devices protruding from the from wall of the cabin.

        One of them was a big circle that jutted out from the wall. Looking back over into the bay, he could see that the pole it was mounted on continued deep down underneath the thing.

        His excitement now building, the colt scanned the door he had been leaning against to find a way to open it. It was obvious it was a door, a seam ran around the entire thing and what looked like a drawer handle was attached to one side.

        Grinning, he moved his head to bite down on the handle and gave a hard tug. The door did not move whatsoever. Frowning, he tried again. This time, he pulled a bit too hard; his teeth slipped off of the handle, and he fell onto his rump with an ‘oof’.

        With a grumble, he shot a glare back at the handle. There was no movement in it at all, meaning that the door did not slide out, and there was no hinge on the handle, which meant it didn’t work like a doorknob either.

        The colt’s mind ticked for a few moments before noticing something he had missed before. On one side of the handle, a button stuck out. It, much like the rest of the car was rusted with age, but its purpose was now clear.

        Standing back up, the young earth pony pushed the button in with one hoof. It took a little effort, as the mechanisms within the door ground against one another, protesting at their usage after so long without being disturbed, until finally, a muffled clunk sounded within the door.

        With a victorious smile, the colt wrapped his other hoof around the handle, and pulled the door open. The heavy metal door groaned angrily as it slowly opened, swinging a mere few inches out from its previous position before it jammed. Giving a strong tug, a mix between a bang and a crack sounded in the hinges and the door opened more.

        Due to the lean of the thing, when the door swung fully open, the lowest corner slammed into the dirt, digging up a small hole.

        The first thing the colt noticed was the smell. The scent of years of exposure in a closed, contained cabin instantly rushed out to greet him. It was like shoveling dirt straight up your nose; the smell of rotting plant matter that had found its way into the vessel was powerfully overwhelming.

        Waiting a moment for the smell to air out, he looked closer inside. The large seat that stretched across the width was made of some strange material. It was smooth, but tough. The occasional rip in the seat allowed rusty springs to poke up through the padding.

        Jumping up into the cabin, he heard the other springs groan under his weight. Looking around, he noted that there was a lot of empty space in front of the seat, apart from the place underneath the circle.

        Jutting out from the floor, below where he sat, were three strange pads. Their purpose was a complete unknown to the colt, yet he decided to press down on one with a rear hoof.

        No response.

        Shrugging it off, he turned his attention to the odd stick of metal poking out of the floor to his right. A long, slightly crooked bar rose from the floor. A black ball mounted on top displayed and odd pattern with six lines that criss crossed each other. Each line had a strange symbol above it.

        The colts young mind decided that it was boring and instead turned his attention back to the odd circle in front of him. At the end of the pole that it was mounted on, there was a thick circle. Thee small bars stuck out symmetrically from the centre circle, supporting a thinner circle that went around the outside.

        With the flick of an ear, the colt reached up to grab the outside circle.

        The fist of a young man, dressed in a pressed business suit wrapped around the wheel of his new car. He was giddy with excitement, having finally saved up enough to buy a luxury sedan, fresh off the line.

        Of course, the dealer had tried to goad him into buying an even more expensive car, but the man was set. Everyday, he would see this car on his way to work, taunting him with its sharp angles and shining blue paint.

        But now it was his. The engine purred under the curved hood, as the car rolled out of the dealership. Pulling out into traffic, other cars seemed dull compared to the shining sedan that now finally joined them.

        The morning sun shone down on the vehicle as it whipped past storefronts, its curvaceous body reflecting in their windows.

        The steering wheel fit comfortably in the hands of the driver. Its white, ergonomic shape felt as if it were moulded for the mans hands.

        Eventually, the new car rolled into the driveway of its owner’s house. The key was turned and the engine cut out, leaving the car to cool in the sun.

        Stepping out, the man took one last glance back to his new car as it sat patiently in the driveway. Smiling, he could only think about how lucky he was.

        To be able to start this car’s journey.

        The colt continued to play in the strange wreck. Moving on from the wheel, he clambered over to the other side of the long seat. By pure luck, he managed to open a small compartment in the space below the window.

        The tiny door popped open, revealing an assortment of preserved papers and other odd trinkets. Pulling out what looked like an old pair of sunglasses, the colt grinned before placing them on his face.

        Content with his new eyewear, he continued to scavenge inside the compartment. Pulling out almost a dozen scraps of paper, he skimmed over them. Unfortunately, much like the symbols on the top of the stick, the writing on the paper was completely illegible. None of the symbols made any sense.

        Even so, the colt continued to flick through the pages. There were various diagrams that displayed what he assumed were parts of the machine he was in but they did little to explain what it was.

        The only thing he managed to grasp from the pages was one word. He had no idea what it said, yet it seemed important. Everytime it came up, it was bolder and darker than the surrounding symbols.

        BUICK

        The colt paused. He knew he had seen this somewhere else on the machine. Shoving the pages back into the compartment, he moved back over to the circle. Wiping a layer of dust off of the middle, it revealed the same word, etched into the rounded metal.

        The colt smiled. Even if he didn’t know what it meant or said, he was glad that he had discovered that the strange object had a name. The interior of the ‘Buick’ took on a new light in his eyes.

        Even though, the ceiling was rotted and falling apart. The seats were ripped and soiled with rainwater. The glass was cracked and warped. The entire thing sat lopsided and pieces were missing. It was, such an amazing discovery.

        And it had been abandoned. Forgotten. Left to face the hardship of the forest alone. How anypony could leave such an interesting machine at the bottom of a leaf-filled gully, was beyond the comprehension of the young colt.

        With the imagination that only a child could posses, he pushed one of the pads on the floor down. With a groan and a squeak, it depressed into the floor. Even though it did nothing, the colt already imagined that he had stomped on the throttle to Equestria’s mightiest airship, engaging in air to air combat with the dirty longcoats of the north.

        Grasping the sun-blistered wheel, he spun it around, pretending that his airship was twisting into a tight maneuver.

        “Hard to starboard! We got enemies on our six!” he cried, jovially, to his imaginary crew. An imaginary energy bolt struck the side of the ‘airship,’ causing the colt to shout more orders.

        “We’ve taken damage! We’re going down!” he giggled, playing with the two odd sticks that poked out from behind the wheel. “This is your captain speaking. All crew evacuate the... uh,” he paused as he thought of a name for his ship.

        Glancing down, he noticed the illegible work etched into the wheels centre. Trying his best to pronounce it in Equestrian, he eventually ended up with.

        “Atrasti,” he smiled.