Graciela and Mark occupied briefly a self-driving, regulation GMWVHTi model Nissaneaii. This made Mark slightly uncomfortable for the duration. He winced as he wiggled his butt in the regulation blue seat (for boys). Graciela parked herself comfortably in her pink seat across the central isle ; as he watched her legs cross he couldn't help but think her posterior had gained amplitude over time. This sort of thinking never made seating more comfortable for him, and he winced painfully as the boy seat nubbin burrowed deeper inside him.
The incessant pinging, low but audible, pulses one second apart always made him anxious, which didn't particularly help. What if he won't be able to take his seat ? The friendly, disembodied female voice that didn't sound like any woman he had ever heard (outside of cinema) patiently invited him to please take his seat, every fifteen seconds. What if he won't be able to sit down this time ? The thought always tormented him. Even though every time he did manage, nevertheless there was always that moment of pure, fearful, terrorised panic right before the final squirm. The unconquerable dread of wondering "what if he won't be able to sit" ? Then there'd be no way for them to get back to the housing unit. They'd be stuck here forever. And everybody'd know!
With courage from beyond courage, Mark gave himself one final push downwards. The nubbin finally lodged itself in its desired spot and buzzed contentedly, filling him with joy. He had managed! Again, he had managed! The self-driving appliance chimed happily, the automatic door swung shut and he closed his eyes, leaning back to savour the moment. But just as his relaxed penis was sputtering its unnecessary (and often inappropriate) ejaculate into the regulation male undergarment with padding designed to support leisure activities (BU-LA), the other thought came to him. The other, the really horrible thought.
It was getting easier, wasn't it, to sit down in the regulation blue boy seat of the car. Just as Graciela was sitting ever more, he, Mark, was sitting ever easier. Especially since he got married.
Mark did not have what used to be called (for no particular reason) a classical education, or for that matter much of an education at all. He didn't know whether amyl nitrite was a new kind of plastic or a new kind of hot sauce ; he had no idea whether the nubbin intimately ensconced within his deepest inner folds was made of acrylonitrile butadiene or toothpaste. Somehow the fact of daily interaction with the item that never failed to make him spurt never managed to spur his curiosity towards any definite goal ; and consequently he had no idea when exactly and why exactly his seating became easier, notwithstanding that it was fully discussed in GMWVHT's 14th 5 Year Plan filings, volume CW page 1`833 paragraph 9 subparagraph 13, 14 and 16 as well as in relevant regulatory and oversight publications.
The trip was brief, Nissanea turning left or right, accelerating or decelerating to meet conditions on a road they couldn't see. Not in the strict sense, of course, while direct glass windows had been long replaced with LCD panels, they could in fact program the outside cameras to report the outside inside. They never did, it's just not something that was done. Everyone they knew just kept the LCDs tuned to the official news and useful informations. There was a box with buttons on it which would have allowed change, but both Mark and Graciela already believed in change, voted for change every time, participated in all change discussions at all the places where they have them, such as their workplace, their livingplace, and other places including the introductory change discutation before the cinematic projection. They were very aware and supportive of change, and consequently the same station was on since they got the car, the remote was nowhere to be found and neither had any idea how to work the buttons hidden behind a folding plastic bit somewhere. In fact neither could remember where, nor did either know it.
With a beep the door swung open. There were flashing lights outside, Mark and Graciela both looked up just as the toilet-seat shaped helmet peered in. The voice coming from the writhing mess of safety devices making up most of the regulation 5.8kg 3`655cc police and peacekeeping constabulary services (PPCS) helmet was metallic, with various buzzings, cracks, pops and occasional harmonics attached on all sides.
"Good day people couple. This is *bzzzzt* *brrrrt* *crack* *pop*. We are conducting a routine investigation. Where are you headed ?"
"We are going home."
"Where are you coming from ?"
"The Cineplex Entertaining Cinecenter for Couples."
"Thank you. Have a good day."
Just as the elaborate contraption was retiring through the doorhole, it swung back in.
"Sir, what are you wearing ?"
"I...I..." Mark could barely draw breath. Graciela gave him a wise look, the ancient wife's "I told you so", silent as it is deadly.
"Identify your garments!"
"I... am... I am wearing" Mark managed, through the tears that were already forming, preparing to choke him completely at any moment "I am wearing a regulation BT-LA-42-A-F19 top, regulation BB-YQ-19-B-C16 boots, BU-LA-43-C-A11 underwear and... and... and a GB-SJ-47-A-B11... skirt" he managed through a geyser of sobs and readily flowing tears.
"We have a 10-19-22-55-14-16-29-72" the toilet-helmet whirred. "Why are you wearing a skirt, sir ?"
"I... I don't know..."
"You aren't supposed to wear a skirt. You are supposed to wear any of the generous line of regulation boy bottoms made available to you, and have them around your ankles while in traffic."
"Please step out of the vehicle."
Mark gingerly extracted himself from his seat, removed his leisure activity top and boots, peeled off the 6 inch pleated plaid skirt, extracted himself out of the straps of his open ass briefs, really little more than a penis glove, and stepped outside into the night. Regulation police encounters required all suspects to step outside their vehicle completely nude ; the initiative had scored a 3.82% reduction in the cost of processing and was hailed as the 3rd most effective initiative introduced during the 12th Five Year Plan. It was also heralded as clear proof of the success of the Governmental Initiative To Increase Participation, having been originally proposed by a nine year old girl.
Mark landed in a puddle, and felt the mud seep through in between his toes. The officers documented the stop, uploading the material to the respective publicly accessible police blotter website and gave him a Continuing Offense Citation. It wasn't the first time Mark was not appropriately dressed. The Aliterative Informaterror instructed them not to arrest him, but to take him to an area hospital for further evaluation. Consequently the officers released the hold on the car, whose door immediately clang shut and it off it went, taking Graciela to her abode. Perhaps she will have to be married again, she thought as the automobile peeled off.
As for Mark's part, securely stored in the police vehicle he duly proceeded on his way, on the regular path towards rehabilitation.———
- General Motors Wolks Vagen Honda Toyota [↩]
- They ran out of Integras, Supras, Imprezas and even Lemonas a while back ; and consequently for the few past five years' plans the carmaking conglomerate's naming convention revolved around historical but meanwhile discontinued automakers. Admittedly the modern understanding of both history and locomotion not being very keen, there was the occasional Treka in there.
The a comes from automobile, before you ask. [↩]