Zero Worship: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #6

Chapter 18 - Off-Gassing

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The inside of the van reeks of "new car smell." Packs and packs of opened air fresheners rest at Zandra's feet. The rough man with a black hat and a skeleton bandana that sat next to her last time is gone. Only the driver and the man in the van are there to greet Zandra when she gets in near the gyro restaurant.

Dare I turn around this time?

"Don't turn around," the man in the van says from behind Zandra's seat in the van.

Well, fuck. That was weird.

"My associate has taken leave," the man in the van says in a grim tone.

Zandra kicks at the air fresheners with her good foot. "Does he sell cars now?"

"New cars don't need new-car-smell air fresheners."

Was that supposed to be witty? Who cares.

"I've got news," Zandra says as the van clears a corner.

The man in the van clears his throat. "What's his name?"

"Take a breath. You're getting ahead of yourself," Zandra says.

The van shakes. Two fresh tires absorb abuse from a pothole.

"You didn't come in here because you needed a place to do that, did you?" the man says.

To do what?

Oh.

That.

I'm all out.

"You must be thinking of someone else," Zandra says.

"Good."

Zandra kicks at the air fresheners again. Every time she does, a fresh puff of artificial "clean" floats into her nose.

"New car smell" isn't cleaner or soap or anything close to that. It's the release of volatile organic compounds from all the shit that goes into making a car. There's even a term for it: off-gassing.

In the United States, off-gassing is like a rite of passage, a status symbol that says, "look at my shiny, new thing." Only in this country could you get away with morphing off-gassing into a positive connotation. New-car-smell air fresheners reinforce the desirability for these noxious fumes. You can, quite literally, breathe in the bullshit.

In other countries, like China, "new car smell" is seen for what it is: air pollution. Negative connotation.

What's the difference? It's the same volatile organic compounds. It's the same lungs breathing them in. It's the same car companies trying to air their shit out on consumers.

The difference is perception. The truth—whether breathing this shit in is bad for your health to a point that offsets any perceived benefit of status satisfaction—barely matters. Just ask the wizards in the marketing department.

"Are you going to tell me why there are so many air fresheners on the floor?" Zandra says.

"I buy in bulk," the man in the van says.

Zandra smirks and repeats herself. "Why are there so many air fresheners on the floor?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because this is an old-fuck van," Zandra says. She coughs into her sleeve and cracks her neck. She can feel and hear the crunches.