The Unchipped

Chapter 28

Sara shifted to the right as she walked, as far from the road as possible while remaining on the sidewalk. The idea of fallible human drivers was a hard thing to ignore. At any moment, one of them could nod off or lose control. The speed of the vehicles added to the anguish. It was as if patience was supplanted by the need to reach their destination before they even left. She did find the sound of the noisy engines, initially thought annoying, now welcome since it warned her of an approaching car. A handful of scenarios had been mentally worked through to avoid any impact, most having her jumping over the vehicle - something she questioned could be initiated in time. She never was 'Miss athletic'.

Intersections were the worst. In Aragonia, the vehicles would wait for pedestrians. Here, in Mascrete, it was the vehicles that seemed to have priority, and they were aggressive about it. Most crossroads had lights dictating sequencing which was somewhat comforting, though, at times, the lights seemed more of a suggestion than a rule. Sara felt that the walk symbol only indicated that it was a slightly better time to take your life into your hands. She held her breath at each crossing, whipping her head left and right while having her leaping defense at the ready.

The buildings and streets slowly became more dilapidated as she walked. A blessing, since it correlated with less traffic. The signal lights also lessened; replaced by red signs with a single instruction: Stop. Sara grimaced at the simplicity and the confusion that would surely ensue if multiple cars from diverse directions arrived simultaneously. Needing to cross, she waited until the entire intersection was clear of any vehicle, then ran across. She turned back and spent some time watching, believing she needed to work out the rules for the future. It was surprisingly cordial when two vehicles needed to cross paths. Usually, the first to arrive would be the first to continue. Other times, one of the drivers would signal the other onward and receive a pleasant wave in gratitude. Though one time, two of the vehicles attempted perpendicular crossings together, then halted, then tried again. Sara flinched when one of the cars emitted the most awful sound that tore at her ears. The driver raised her hand in obvious anger before continuing with abandon, seemingly warning the other to be more cognizant of her aggressiveness.

Sara decided that whatever driving regulations existed, it was chaos that truly ruled at intersections. Wariness was her ally and would keep her healthy. It took a while, and a mile or more, before she began to trust that the sidewalks were basically safe. The lack of checkpoints assisted in lifting her spirits. The ease of travel gave her a sense of freedom. There was no one who cared who she was or where she was going, which was important since she was in the country illegally. Chaos had its benefits.

It was late afternoon before she finally reached her destination. She was happy to see the line outside of the soup kitchen. It meant they were still open, or about to open. One of the outcomes she hoped for since her plan lacked any other options. Unfortunately, she was forced to enter deaf-mute mode. It would make acquiring information more difficult, but was a necessity all the same, since her accent would be a dead giveaway. It would take a while to lose it, longer still if she couldn't find a trusted friend to practice with.

The people in the queue were mostly older, though there was one man about Sara's age near the front, dressed in paint-splattered jeans and a dingy tan jacket. He was sitting on the sidewalk with legs outstretched and his back against the smooth yellow brick that skirted the building below the boarded windows. Sara noticed him because of his animated arms. He looked to be speaking to the world, making important points emphasized by forceful hand gestures. There was no sound from his lips, but they moved in equal ferocity with the gesticulations.

No one else seemed to notice, indicating the man's actions were normal, or of little interest. It seemed harmless, since he was sitting still as he discussed the fate of the world with an imaginary audience and never demanded others to participate.