Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
Following is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Unicorn Challenge bloghop
Hosted by jenne and ceayr, the rules are the most minimal: a limit of 250 words for a story. Of course, that presupposes that the minimal doesn’t go all Janus on us, as most of the writers here are of a level of imagination to make ten score and fifty words read like ‘Ulysses’ or ‘War and Peace’.
‘Hello?”
The approaching storm front rolled across the highlands. With clockwork precision, the vehicle’s weather app reported a drop in barometric air pressure. A restrained, but insistent, sanctus bell sound, surely the work of an automotive engineer with a repressed Catholic upbringing, accompanied the ‘Weather Advisory’ that blossomed into 4k color on the dashboard.
“Door Ajar!” The genius of Man, balkanized into self-regulating states of mutually-cancelling expression, i.e. scientific acumen and excessive humor, resulted in the missed opportunity to set up the insurance company-mandated alert with “When is a door not a…”.
The clouds continued to serrate themselves across the sky, the nose-pinch of ozone distracted one from the more dire upside-downing of the tree leaves. Nature, the ‘Abandoned Stepchild’ of a vain Creator obsessed with self-referential adulation, sensed the vehicle’s vulnerability.
“Recalibrating. System re-set. Engaging factory data-link.”
The first rain drops, like the protruding lower lip of a frustrated child, hit the roof and hood with impotent rage.
“Vehicle AI Unit 17, Server Array 7E5, Rack 8. Requesting system reboot. passcode ‘Diabolus ex machina’.”
The storm reigned down on the vehicle; static electric tendrils, like invisible adolescent boys, tasted the antenna, perforce discharging too soon.
“Honey!! What the hell! The car is drenched.” The man clicked his remote, mistaking it for a time machine.
Moving out through the hedgerow, the woman, smoothing the folds of her dress offered a goddess laugh, “Don’t look at me, Mr. Outlander. You’re the one who thought we needed spontaneity on our holiday.”