still living in Britain, visited frequently to help Nani Clive with finances, car maintenance, and
home repairs, especially with electronic devices, which would run as smooth as melted caramel
after Uncle’s ministrations.
A month after my twelfth birthday a not-so-well-intentioned neighbor told me that the
drunk driver who’d killed my parents was my father. I “was old enough to know the truth,”
she announced, adding that my father had abused alcohol, drugs, and my mother.
Nani Clive confirmed my father had been drinking before the accident, but denied he
used drugs or ever hurt my mother. Nevertheless, I extracted promises from her and
Uncle Amit that they would never ever lie to me, no matter how painful the truth. And that
meant no more fairy tales from Nani about my parents’ deaths being God’s will and no more
Uncle Amit’s fantastical stories about the cycle of rebirth.
Now, the truth behind my car’s odd behavior eluded me. I tested the tootle command
twice more and each time the DLCx selected delightfully different routes. While I had no
logical explanation for my car’s quirks, I was nonetheless enchanted with “Tootles”— as I
now thought of her. When she started stopping each morning at my favorite chai tea store,
I didn’t think twice about it.
In early September, I took Tootles in for her 5000-mile checkup. While a beefy mechanic
in a red jumpsuit hooked up his diagnostic computer, I inquired whether he’d heard
anything about a learning function in the DLCx’s software.
Jumpsuit shook his head. “Heard lotsa rumors, but not that one.”
“What about a random route generator?”
Jumpsuit ceased what he was doing and turned to look at me.
“Is something going on with your car?”
I explained how it ignored the NAPS programming.
He turned to his computer for a few minutes. “Not picking up anything here,” he said.
“You’ll need to notify the manufacturer to get that fixed.”
“I’ll think about it. Right now, it’s more of a feature than a problem.”
“You mentioned random routes?”
“When I give it instructions to tootle around, it takes me for a scenic drive.”
For a split second, Jumpsuit just stared at me. Then he laughed. “You’re pulling my leg.”
24
The Ghouls’ Review