Revenge Fantasy

"W... Wait, you haven't had a single drop!" Eugene calls out, getting up in shock as the woman is on her way out. Not a single sip of green tea, just- because it was too hot for her to pick up?

"Apologies. It's simply... not for me," Kuroiwa explains.

"A-Alright, b... but... uhm- don't you want to stick around, know about what you're delivering?" Eugene calls out. "Like, what's in 45?"

Kuroiwa shakes her head. "Not particularly."

"Well, it's a rare and limited-edition Sweet Bot, its box in perfect condition and all. Top of the line," Eugene begins to explain as he follows after Kuroiwa. Entering the garage with her, watching her get into the pickup truck. "Worth quite a lot of money, y'know? ... right, you do know that. But-"

"Please, open the garage door," Kuroiwa instructs, showing absolute indifference to what Eugene explains. "I just need to know that I'm driving this to Omaha. Nothing more, nothing less, Eugene."

"... b... but- uhm. It's an interesting marketing pitch! The salesmen at the company's-"

"Eugene, you're stalling," Kuroiwa bluntly states, calling him and his incessantly rambling self out. "Are you trying to keep me from leaving? ... you have been, for a while, actually."

Eugene... stares at Kuroiwa for a bit, before sighing.

"I... I just didn't want you to go," he truthfully admits. "Not until... n-not until-"

"Until what?" Kuroiwa asks, glaring at Eugene. "What could you possibly-?"

"I- I wanted to find a way to s-say you're welcome back here, anytime!" Eugene exclaims, blurting out to interrupt Kuroiwa.

Kuroiwa loses her glare as her eyes... widen slightly, looking to Eugene. "... uh... thanks? I-"

"I-It's just- listen, I... I heard about the funeral. Then the news said you disappeared, presumably died, and- and here you are. I'm in front of the girl who, who I just- it's- I'm- I just..."

Eugene... takes a deep breath to collect his thoughts. "... I... I feel- I feel sorry, y'know. For all that all happened..."

"..."

... Eugene covers his face, sighing. "... a... alright? T... That's all. I- I'll... I'll let you go now. Good luck with the delivery..." He walks to the garage door switch, letting the garage door open for Kuroiwa.

Kuroiwa stares at Eugene, speechless for a bit.

"... Eugene. What was- what was his name again?"

"...?" Eugene looks back to Kuroiwa, eyebrow raised. "Huh?"

"His name. The inventor's. The one who made Vanilla," Kuroiwa idly continues.

Eugene blinks in astonishment, looking at the garage door as it opens. "... h... have I not been saying his name? That's- oh, wow, I haven't. It's- huh. Why am I just calling him 'my friend' instead of his actual name?"

Kuroiwa shrugs. "I have no idea. Well, then." Putting the car into drive, ready to leave.

"..." Eugene narrows his eyes. "Wa... wait, don't you want to know his name? He-"

"Save it. It will be a mystery that we will discuss when I come back," Kuroiwa responds.

"I- but- why would it be a mystery if-"

"Eugene."

Looking to see an... earnest... smile. One meant to be given to a friend, one meant to express pleasantries rather than discomfort. "Thanks for the tea. I'll be happy to have a chat again sometime."

"... u... uhm! Sure-" Eugene blurts out, effectively sidetracked enough to go along with that reasoning. "I'll- have some green ready for you, then. You're- you're welcome back any time, okay? A-After the delivery and all."

"I'd like that," Kuroiwa responds, continuing to smile. "Instead of green tea, though... could you... possibly have some Earl Grey, if possible. Lemon and honey. I'll have some money to pay you back for the trouble."

Eugene... nods. "L... Looking forward to it, Chouko. Earl Grey it is."

With that, Kuroiwa drives out of the garage, and the pickup truck is off to Omaha.

For a while, as Kuroiwa drives off the neighborhood street, Kuroiwa maintains that smile. That pleasant smile, one that looks in the rearview mirror and looks to the house she was driving away from.

Then, turning off of the street... the smile fades.

Kuroiwa has a blank gaze as she grew tired of that charade. Already sick of Eugene and his elaborate tedium, seeing right through his trickery.

Eugene's sincerity could have been opportunity to discover other things about him, to seize his information and learn more about him. But those words are as hollow as they always have been. The moment those words came out, these "whole-hearted" apologies from people expecting stuff from her, there's nothing else that Kuroiwa wants to know about this man.

Whatever threat he was, gone. Eugene is just another sympathetic person willing to be the shoulder to cry on. Nothing of value as a person, nothing different or worthwhile to offer. Eugene is what she has already deduced time and time again:

An attempted replacement of her father.

Maybe these people didn't understand how much Charles meant to her. When they say these words, when they tell her these apologies, when they show her meaningless sympathy and occasional empathy. It would make her job a lot easier if they just keep quiet and continued with whatever semblance of a life they have instead of trying to enter her world.

But no. Kuroiwa has to listen to their incessant "I'm sorry for your loss" statements, their endless "condolences". Attempting to make her falter, almost trying to... humanize... what she's become.

That's probably why Kuroiwa doesn't care about the inventor's name. Kuroiwa used it to excuse herself and give Eugene something to look forward to, when... in truth, she doesn't care. Kuroiwa really doesn't care. No interest in it whatsoever. A reminder of a time she can never go back to.

It's an astonishing feat for her, really. By some miracle, this inventor's name has alluded her mind. One of the many... comforts, in Kuroiwa's life. As the world progressed because of this man, he just... he just faded away in her mind. At no point did she or Charles pay him any attention.

The fact of the matter is... as long as his name remains forgotten, Kuroiwa has nothing- nothing at all to worry about. It is a good luck charm to NOT know this man's name. A rather whimsical thought, really.

A thought occuring to her at the start of this drive, the beginning of a drive to last approximately 14-ish hours, a destination 900+ miles away, Sensitive cargo. Cautious driving. A completely unremarkable journey just to deliver the android in Box 45. Hours upon hours of driving, passing by unimportant landmarks and such. Other cars, other... things.

Noting of specific note whatsoever. A simple, general drive there, with Kuroiwa not caring about the surrounding scenery.

No, in order to efficiently drive, one must devote their attention to the front, to the sides and back of the vehicle. There is no time to see the passing West Pennsylvanian sights, or any of the sights from Pittsburgh to Omaha. With that in mind, nothing of value comes to Kuroiwa's attention.

This nothing serves as fortunate signs of luck, really. She's already used to nothing happening near her, and almost thrives off of it. Tedium is equal to being safe, to being undetected. One of the greatest things to indicate the job is running smoothly. Exceptions exist, of course, but... the general idea for most jobs is as follows: if nothing happens, then Kuroiwa is doing her job properly.

That's right. That's all. When nothing happens, it's safe. When nothing happens, it's okay.

When nothing happens, then no one has to die.

"..."

Kuroiwa- shakes her head, and turns on the radio. She needs to drown out the sound of the cars, the deafening sound of highway peace.

Complete peace amongst the cars going through the interstate highways, as she is simply a red pickup truck traveling amongst common vehicles. SUVs, convertibles, hatchbacks, sedans... even vans, minivans, wagons, buses, trucks, and other pickups. All these cars around her, traveling the same roads, driving along.

To drown this sound out... the radio is turned on, and a commercial conveniently plays.

Car crash sound effects. People screaming in horror. Babies crying and dogs howling.

"Tired of having to drive place to place?! Worried that you'll end up in an accident?!"

Ah. Kuroiwa squints her eyes. Car crashes are and have always been concerns people fear. This is a commercial for a product related to that.

Today's societal advancements purely prioritized cybernetics and androids, so the "futuristic flying cars" and "fully autonomous self driving cars" have yet to exist. The classics are still widely used today, and the modern exceptions remain grounded in the Artificial Revolution.

So the answer to the concerns of car crashes:

"Then say hello to the St. Martin Driving Chip! A brain chip used to regulate your movements, giving you the time to rest while your body autonomously drives for you! Able to think for you as you drive, transmitting its state of the art muscle-signaling motions while letting YOU enjoy your commute in peace and relaxation! So what are you waiting for?! Get one installed, and take back the time you waste on driving!"

As absurd as this concept once was, this was a common sight nowadays. On this highway alone, even. The stiffness of various drivers that Kuroiwa passes by, it was evident that there were people letting the brain technology drive the entire trip for them. Entrusting their lives to a technology that operates as just one of those car GPS things.

The way it works is admittedly efficient. A destination is inputted, and the technology regulates muscle movements to perfectly drive to said destination. From its initial conception to today, the technology has been perfected, and the total amount of chip-caused accidents have been reduced to purely 1% (omitting the crashes caused by manual drivers).

Not only do these drivers perfectly follow road safety laws, the chips also search for the nearest gas stations when the fuel is low. The driver wakes up as the car pulls in, is aware of the gas station, and... yeah. Once it's done, the driver continues his journey.

Ingenious. Conceptually useful for drivers like Kuroiwa.

However, given the fact that these brain chips obey every road safety law, engaging with a driver that has one of these chips is a jail sentence if you're engaging with any sort of illegal activity. Getaway drivers, smugglers, traffickers... none of these vehicular "criminals" make use of this technology, as using one has them directed to police stations upon the driver's criminal activity.

On the other end, the commercial RIGHT after this... follows the same hook. Repeating the exact, EXACT same commercial sound effects...

Car crash sound effects. People screaming in horror. Babies crying and dogs howling.

"Are you tired of driving from place to place, forced to show caution when THIS can happen?! Then say hello to your newest chauffeur, Chavez! Say hello to everyone, Chavez!"

"HELLO. EVERYONE."

Ah, yes. Hello, Chavez.

"Chavez is a prime chauffeur robot designed for driving any distance you need. Simply tell Chavez where you need to go, and he will escort you safely. With state of the art technology to drive you where you want to go, as well as state of the art entertainment software installed in each android, you will never- ever- be bored with your Chavez. Isn't that right?"

"THAT'S RIGHT! SHALL WE PLAY A GAME?"

Children cheering.

A popular option if one doesn't want cybernetic car driving. Rather than drive yourself, you have an android do it. Gives a sense of "luxury", of comfort and class to have a chauffeur and all. A service where an android fully integrates itself with the car, utilizing its navigation software to travel across extensive areas.

This "Chavez" is one of the most popular options for passenger people, going so far as to have holographic technology to provide entertainment throughout the journey. Parents buy their own Chavez to escort their children to and from school, only needing to have Chavez report if all their kids are in the car, and... there we go.

Public transport via bus, taxi, even mobile services... the human driver is no longer a factor with these androids. Vehicle companies enlist these android products, from Chavez Corp., Belv-Way-dere, MetroNet, and so on... to organize public traffic and all. Inherently, these androids are specially designed with safety and driving, as well as technology for them to handle car accidents.

Cybernetics... androids... Kuroiwa doesn't care, really. As of right now, the only technology Kuroiwa has on hand is the cellphone. The essential device to dispatch of both cybernetics and androids in this world.

Kuroiwa doesn't need anything else. She can drive perfectly fine. It's a fine journey, one that sends her past the borders of Ohio. Plenty of time to just tune out, to just automate her own thinking to just driving. A safe drive with nothing but-

"And we're back! Hello, listeners and viewers, you're now with Target News Ohio - the station that gets a bullseye every time. I'm Thomas Anderson."

"And I'm Barbara Summers."

Hm. Target News. Kuroiwa blinks for a bit as her attention's brought to this news station. The station is some sort of "Ohioan" branch of a news network, a combination radio and TV broadcast. A common occurrence with old news media nowadays, with Target News being one of the surviving channels. A pure rarity nowadays, as most of the major ones have already moved to other mediums beyond radio and TV. Thus, these ones are simply here for the stubborn classic lovers. AKA, people who still own cable TVs and drive traditional cars like this pickup truck.

One male news anchor, Thomas Anderson. One female news anchor, Barbara Summers.

"If you're just tuning in, then listen up. Breaking news over to our neighbors in Pennsylvania, the CEO of 'Sedimate LLC' was found dead in his home."

Kuroiwa is visibly intrigued at this.

So... they found Gardner. His death enough to reach Ohio, apparently...

"Terrence Gardner, 36. Officers found him bleeding out from his neck, shot in cold blood with his own rifle. With only his fingerprints on the rifle, as well as how it was found, officers have ruled his death as a suicide."

As planned...

"One is left to wonder the reasons, the motives he could have had to do this, but some information about Gardner has come to light following his death. The man has engaged in countless hookups with Pennsylvanian women, driving them to his forest home and sleeping with them."

"None have come forward as of right now," the female anchor begins to speak, "because all of them have been reported missing. Various women from ages 18-24, picked up from bars and such, with the latest one disappearing the night he died. All law enforcement has, in terms of her description, is testimony from bartenders suggesting her long blonde hair and lavishly blue dress."

Kuroiwa chuckles contently at this. Apparently, the bartenders have mistaken her appearance, incorrectly describing the one before her.

Primacy bias. One remembers the first items in a series better than the ones that follow. When the officers interrogated the area, testimony simply generalized the women that Gardner met before Kuroiwa. So all they have: "blonde" and "blue dress".

Heh.

"Wow, Barbara. I sure am glad I'm not a bar woman right now," the male anchor comments. "Tragically, this isn't the first time a CEO has met an end. Across this last decade, countless businessmen have been reported dead time and time again. CEOs from lesser companies of failing technologies, and CEOs from the biggest companies in today's age."

"What do you think could be the cause of this, Tom?"

"Well. In full honesty, I have no idea, Barbara. But scientists theorize that the deaths of our businessmen, suicide or not, have exponentially increased following the media coverage of an event surrounding America's--"

Tom says an irrelevant name that Kuroiwa's never heard of before, and... the woman pbffts at this. Chuckling with great amusement as they blurt out that name, hearing a name that was indescribably generic.

"Yes, yes, listeners," the news anchor comments. "All this death followed the death America's AI golden child, Vanilla."

...

Shit.

Kuroiwa grits her teeth as she- she realizes that they said his name on air.

The inventor's.

"Following the unexpected shutdown of Vanilla, countless businesses around the world have found themselves with their executive higher-ups dying."

This was an omen... Kuroiwa sighs. She's lost the good luck charm that guaranteed her safety. A superstition, sure, but one that's proven itself relevant throughout these years.

"America's faced a dark five years as these people cowardly claim their own lives. If not even our businessmen can handle living, what gives the rest of us hope?"

The fact that the inventor's name is now known to her. Kuroiwa knows his name, now. Kuroiwa had to be more cautious, now. She can't let her guard down, in the event this means something now, and-

"No greater coward than the suicide that happened nine years ago, the economic hand of Charles Ashford. McCarthy's biggest supporter in the form of scholarship and publicity, presumably the start of this death of our economy."

...

They...

They think her father's death was a suicide?

They think-

They think that he took his own life in that hotel room?

Kuroiwa's eyes widen in horror as the radio's voice tuned out, as she grips the steering wheel with a tight hand. A dark gaze in her eyes as she stares forward, staring at the back of the car in front of her.

Charles Ashford. A suicide.

"Woah- Tom, you sure have it out for the British. 'Greatest Coward'? Way to pay respects."

"Well, sure. In this anchor's honest opinion? Good riddance. Time and time again, those Brits screwed our society's media over, y'know? All these crimes, all this desolation- that's why our country split from them in the first place. Now we just know them for their funny accents, overrated fanciness, and... them literally dying over here. Charles isn't the only one, there's more like him, but- with how important he was, it just sparked a trend with our businessmen, British and American."

Calm down.

"Sure, it's sad he took his own life, but why wouldn't I blame Ashford? He's the inciting incident, a pretty aged man born into riches and already on his way out, just... doing something that gets station after station to report it in memoriam. It brings a tear to my heart, but maybe he just wanted to take his life in peace without making a grand spectacle over it."

Calm down, Kuroiwa.

"Instead, with hIs pompous, pretentious attitude a symbol of success, he became some martyr, a lure for all those British folk to just come over here. To the land of the free, the home of the brave, and progressively die on us too. Apparently, death is what gets on the news nowadays, right?"

Don't get riled up.

"It's not like all of them are bad, sure! I'm not discrediting British people as a whole, honestly. Just... what good have they done for society lately? We live in a society of psychopathic criminals that make us unable to leave our rooms, every bit of news is just something about death or technology..."

Don't. Don't do anything rash.

"Just, get to doing something worthwhile for the world again, Britain! Am I right? I'm right- if Charles was so great, why don't we just- have more men like him, men willing to be what he was. A shitty businessman on the brink of death, ready to cause and create the next big thing!"

Don't. Don't. Don't...

"In this reporter's honest opinion, he was a piece of crap. Tell me one good thing he did, eh? I'll wait, Britain. Come on and call!"

...

"Well- haha, anyway, sorry for that tangent, everyone. Now, onto more pressing... oh- what's that? I'm getting a call," the male anchor comments, chuckling. "Haha. Me, myself! Unknown number, probably one of those scam robocall and all. Any bets on if I've attracted one of those Brits for real?"

"High bets, Tom. Passionate nationalism on full display, everyone," the female anchor comments.

"Sounds about right! Whoever's calling right now probably wants to be on TV, on radio, whatever. Let's welcome them, everyone!" The anchor, Tom, answers the phone in the middle of the news. "Hello, viewer and-or listener, you're on with Tom! Be aware you're being broadcast to thousands of Buckeyes right now as-"

"HE WAS NOT A SUICIDE, YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON!"

Kuroiwa shouts into the phone, gritting her teeth as she drives down the highway. The bloodthirsty gaze in her eyes as she shouts with all of her might, with all of her lungs. Completely unrestrained, absolutely hateful and angry.

Fulfilling Tom's little "bet" on an angry Brit being attracted by that nonsense.

It was astonishing that she got the news anchor itself in the middle of the broadcast. The call very visibly catching him off guard while he was covering the story, Kuroiwa managing to get his personal phone number in the time between now and when Tom mentioned her father.

And she has a pure, personal disdain against this news anchor.

"Uh- haha- who is this? Why-"

"I WAS THERE. I SAW HIM RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES. IT WAS A MURDER, YOU INSOLENT WASTE OF A NEWS REPORTER!" Kuroiwa shouts, gripping the phone. Having the safety of using an encrypted phone line, the number being the only thing traceable from her phone. "YOU DARE CALL HIM PRETENTIOUS WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO GET YOUR FACTS STRAIGHT?!"

"... well!" the man shouts. "I- I don't know who this is, but-"

"IF YOU EVER TALK ABOUT HIM IN THAT WAY AGAIN, I WILL GO TO THAT NEWS STATION AND ADD YOUR NAME TO THE BUSINESSMEN SUICIDE LIST TOO, THOMAS ANDERSON. 45. THAT'S RIGHT. ANDERSON. YOU'RE GOING TO BE ANOTHER STATISTIC TO ADD TO THE PILE. ALONG WITH GARDNER."

A pause of silence between the phone call, as well as the news radio channel. Kuroiwa is relying on people interpreting her call as a fallacious threat, an empty one spoken with pure livid rage. The rage that only Gardner's killer could ever show towards a person, carrying a genuine tone intent on scaring the anchor out of his own body.

"... Tom, if- if you need to take the-"

"No, no, I... uh... c... can... can we cut to commercial for a moment?"

A complete and utter shock to local Ohio media, one that blends in with the hostility of anonymity, making many question the truth to the point of its obscurity. The news anchors' hesitance an absolute explosion of societal panic.

"Alright. We'll be right back after these messages."

A visible look of glee on Kuroiwa's face as the news theme plays. Absolutely seething, absolutely hyperventilating after that call. A maniacal look of pure, livid rage on her face as she drives forward, shaking with pure amusement.

"W... Who is this? Why are you- how do you have this number-?"

"Goodbye, Mr. Anderson. I'll be listening."

Kuroiwa hangs up immediately, pressing the end call button and pocketing her phone. An audible giggle, a cackle of glee and amusement as she's sent the channel into commercials. It's always satisfied Kuroiwa to see these people suffer. Always has.

Makes her feel something, imagining the terror on that pitiful news anchor's face... grinning widely. Maybe Tom is shaking in his pathetic boots, scared for his life after that hostile threat. Death threats are not uncommon in his line of work, sure, but being shouted at by someone who claims to have seen his death? To have personally been there?

Heh... and now she has his cellphone number, with the press of a button.