Post by Pawzkat on Sept 15, 2016 12:12:02 GMT -4
](WARNING: I didn't give a shit during the ten minutes I was writing this for the class, so it isn't spell-checked or reviewed for understandability.)
It was one of those days. I woke late, was forced to rush through the morning routine, and in my haste to get to work I failed to notice my speed was steadily increasing. That was, at least until the red and blue began to flash in my rearview mirror.
The air stank of methane as I maneuvered my craft towards the closest sanctioned holo-landing. The strip of metal compound, buoyed in the sky by the multitude of anti-gravity stabilizers beneath it was a scarce fifteen feet across, and would hardly support my vessel, let alone two. The thick board dipped as I brought my hover-car in for the land, tipping dangerously to the left before the sensors on the right registered the sudden weight and equalized the pressure in the seconds before the cop brought his vehicle down. Disconnecting my palms from the sensitive surface that powered the aircraft, I searched my compartment for the documents that would be required of me. Finding such information in the compartment to my right, my shaking hands pulled the crumpled papers from the small, dark space. I gingerly opened the door, and stepped down from my silvery hover-car and onto the ridged surface of the landing board.
It was these sorts of moments that made me nervous, for despite the multiple assurances of the government that landing boards were perfectly safe - tested to hold the weight of tanker, and equipped with railings in case a sudden wind blew about - there were multiple cases that discouraged such data, written reports of accident, humans falling from the sky. Though this information molded me into a careful driver, my anxiety never ceased whenever I guided my car through the clouded sky. Whether it manifested in the form of a terrible feeling of intestines knotting together in my gut, or my lungs failing to work as they ought too, I could never quite forget the memories that had instilled such fear. My very nature was my reminder.
Pressing up against the sleek, rounded body of my hover for comfort, I stilled my shaking hands and willed time to move faster. The officer was certainly taking her own sweet time in dismounting her pod, with movements like molasses as she slowly made her way towards me. Wrenching the papers from the pocket of my hoodie, I held them out to her.
Accepting my identification papers, she noted my jittery hands, eyes narrowing as she made an assumption, the wrong one, about me. “Aerav, is it? I think we need to take a trip to the station, young man.”
I attempted to smile, to put her at ease. To me, the grin was stretched, felt fake - probably looked fake too. “Officer, I don’t take mood alterers. I-I, uh.. driving makes me nervous.”
She looked unconvinced, before barking out a command to turn around and put my hands over my head. Gulping back the rolling feeling in my stomach, I complied.
It just wasn’t my day.
It was one of those days. I woke late, was forced to rush through the morning routine, and in my haste to get to work I failed to notice my speed was steadily increasing. That was, at least until the red and blue began to flash in my rearview mirror.
The air stank of methane as I maneuvered my craft towards the closest sanctioned holo-landing. The strip of metal compound, buoyed in the sky by the multitude of anti-gravity stabilizers beneath it was a scarce fifteen feet across, and would hardly support my vessel, let alone two. The thick board dipped as I brought my hover-car in for the land, tipping dangerously to the left before the sensors on the right registered the sudden weight and equalized the pressure in the seconds before the cop brought his vehicle down. Disconnecting my palms from the sensitive surface that powered the aircraft, I searched my compartment for the documents that would be required of me. Finding such information in the compartment to my right, my shaking hands pulled the crumpled papers from the small, dark space. I gingerly opened the door, and stepped down from my silvery hover-car and onto the ridged surface of the landing board.
It was these sorts of moments that made me nervous, for despite the multiple assurances of the government that landing boards were perfectly safe - tested to hold the weight of tanker, and equipped with railings in case a sudden wind blew about - there were multiple cases that discouraged such data, written reports of accident, humans falling from the sky. Though this information molded me into a careful driver, my anxiety never ceased whenever I guided my car through the clouded sky. Whether it manifested in the form of a terrible feeling of intestines knotting together in my gut, or my lungs failing to work as they ought too, I could never quite forget the memories that had instilled such fear. My very nature was my reminder.
Pressing up against the sleek, rounded body of my hover for comfort, I stilled my shaking hands and willed time to move faster. The officer was certainly taking her own sweet time in dismounting her pod, with movements like molasses as she slowly made her way towards me. Wrenching the papers from the pocket of my hoodie, I held them out to her.
Accepting my identification papers, she noted my jittery hands, eyes narrowing as she made an assumption, the wrong one, about me. “Aerav, is it? I think we need to take a trip to the station, young man.”
I attempted to smile, to put her at ease. To me, the grin was stretched, felt fake - probably looked fake too. “Officer, I don’t take mood alterers. I-I, uh.. driving makes me nervous.”
She looked unconvinced, before barking out a command to turn around and put my hands over my head. Gulping back the rolling feeling in my stomach, I complied.
It just wasn’t my day.
