Five minutes of criminally awkward silence and the thrumming of the machinery hooked into the driver is broken by his thick voice, “Well, since all we gaht in front a us fer a while is nuthin, I might as well fill it with the sumthin you probaly been wundrin bout. Ya e’er seen brains before? How they gots wires comin outta the back? Well they jest added in more wires ta mah brains. I was part a the union when I sturted ta go blaihnd and I wunted t’ keep mah job so they he’pd me out with that and I he’pd them out with their prawlem. Since they had me on dooty so much though, I started ta deteeroraten so I got fed through these toobs t’ keep me goin’. Then the GPS systum came around and now I got some a-tahmic clawks or sumthin hook’d up t’ mah brains now. I kin locate a spine on a kacktis and thas azactly how a sens’d you was goin’ that special rooute.”
“Well, I can’t promise you anything,” you tell him with an open-faced smirk, “but we’ll see where we end up.”
Your route makes an upside-down parabola inside Wyoming and terminates somewhere inside the broad locus of where Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming all meet.
Go to page 84.
(Back to Index of Pages)