Dream's End at Reality's Gate: The Freeway Fare Between Worlds

06 | Mechanical facility

Next day evening I went to the mechanical facility to fix the dinged sides and other casualties to may ecocar. I yanked open the heavy garage door, letting in a gust of warm, dusty air. The first thing I saw was this little creature running away. It was about two feet long, green-gold, with a head like a rhino beetle, stubby legs, some electronic stuff on its back, and a long tail.

"My lady basks in the taste of solar energy," Paul says to me. "I had to clean out her tank, so that she may comfortably return to her miniature arid-landscape," he explains, gesturing to the mini desert-biome inside.

She at a slumping posture. Breathing rhythmically, lips parting. "Is she okay?" I ask, pointing, "I wouldn't ever want to disturb someone while they were basking in the sun's glorious rays," I add.

He smoothly cradled the iguana back to his arms, stroking its scaly back and cooing endearments to it. The green reptile showed content. The tiny electronic device on its back hummed in response to Paul's words, translating them for the iguana to understand. Paul becomes talkative if you asked about the translator he built using old tools and gadgets, all while looking after his pet.

"Pray tell, Mari, what has inspired your ascension today?"

"I got some fixes to do to mine."

"Ah, I perceive that we are to proceed in the customary manner, is it not so?"

"Well and I may help around as it get worked on."

"Rest assured, the matter shall be capable."

"Thank you Paul, you're sweet."

Inside, the mechanic hub buzzed with energy. Tool clatters, engine roars, and chattering voices meshed into a lively symphony. Grease-smeared benches bristled with car components and diverse tools. Veterans and novices collaborated, swapping advice and aiding each other. A camaraderie thrived here, born from a mutual love for vehicles.

I swung open my locker, revealing my not so clean hung jumpsuit. As I undressed, I spotted Cellestine across the room, her mechanic's uniform a mess of oiled stains. She was our resident science whiz, always up before dawn in the lab, experimenting with fuel theories. She's a boss in alternative energy. Thanks to all her hard work, we had our hydrogen, bio-jet-fuel, biogas and other clean fuels.

"Hi Mari?" She called out cheerfully.

Not making eye contact, "Hey Cellestine." I replied.

Tilting her neck and wrinkling her brow, "Well, aren't you the disappearing act? What brings you out of your hidey-hole today, huh?"

Glancing quickly at her, then looking away, "My bad! Life's been a wild ride lately, so I haven't had the chance to swing by."

"Oh, I see," she replied. "Will you be more around?"

I nodded. Small talk isn't my strong suit.

A nervous silence descended between us, and I shifted awkwardly on my feet.

She left, and I quickly slipped into my gear, hopping onto a high stool at the crafting station. A charming chaos of wrenches, screwdrivers, and all sorts of peculiar tools. The scent of oil and machine grease hung in the air like perfume as my teammates bantered and checked their work. I had a close bond with each machine and could do every task flawlessly, yet my exchanges with the others were brief.

I was munching on salty pistachios and staring out the window when I caught sight of another video billboard playing across the street. The video this time was about an economic recession and its devastating effects, causing people to lose their homes and slip into poverty. The main character walked into his home, looking down unfocused gaze, going pale, a slumped posture, staring at his palms as if they hold the answers.