Qualityland

ROAD TO NOWHERE

Peter stands ponderingly in front of the small car that calls itself David. He and Kiki can sit in the front. That’s no problem. He can lay Carrie down in the boot or, should she turn out to be afraid of the dark, even put her on his lap. Calliope and Romeo can find room on the back seat. Pink, if necessary, in the glove compartment. But how it’s possible to get a 2.56-meter-tall armor-piercing combat robot for heavy war missions into a small car—now that’s a puzzler.

“I think, unfortunately, we’ll have to leave Mickey here,” says Peter to Pink.

“That would be a mistake,” says the QualityPad. “Let me tell you from experience: it never hurts to have an armor-piercing combat robot for heavy war missions with you.”

“But there’s no way he’ll fit.”

“Nonsense,” says Pink. “Mickey can make himself small. Can’t you, Mickey?”

“Even if he puts his head between his knees, he still wouldn’t fit on the back seat,” says Kiki.

As if by way of response, Mickey stretches his hand out toward Romeo. Romeo sighs and takes Pink from him. What follows is one of the three most astonishing things Peter has ever seen in his life, together with the murder of a gang member who was vaporized before Peter’s eyes by nanorobots, and the ninth episode of the eighth series of the Game of Thrones virtual reality remake. Mickey literally begins to retract into himself. First his arms become shorter, reminding Peter of the stunted little arms of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, then his legs collapse, giving him the appearance of an obese dwarf. Eventually he begins to fold himself up, until he’s just a quadratic box with wheels underneath. After three seconds, a telescope handle springs out of the top.

“He’s turned himself into a suitcase,” says Kiki in disbelief.

“From a military point of view,” says Pink, “it’s extremely important that they can be easily stored for transport in and out of war zones.”

“It’s like a ludicrous version of Transformers,” says Romeo.

“He’s a suitcase,” says Peter, equally amazed, and tries to lift him up. “An extremely heavy suitcase.”

“Well, admittedly they would usually be loaded by other combat robots,” says Pink.

The four of them—Peter, Kiki, Romeo, and Calliope—just about manage to lift Mickey up. David groans when the combat package lands in his boot space.

Peter wants to climb in the front, but the door won’t open. The car mutters something.

“David likes to have the driver’s seat for himself,” explains Romeo.

“The what?” asks Peter.

“The seat at the front where the steering wheel used to be,” says Romeo.

“Oh, okay,” says Peter, ushering Kiki and his machines onto the back seat, then climbing in on the other side.

“Thanks for driving us, David,” he says to the car.

“I don’t remember saying we could be on first-name terms,” says the car.

“Sorry,” says Peter. “There’s no need to get grumpy about it.”

“I lost my way two years, eight months, and sixty-four days ago,” says David. “No one gets to tell me not to be grumpy.”

“Fair enough.”

“So where do you want to go?”

Peter unfolds the map which the old man has sent them and says: “Go straight!”

The car rolls off.

“What about a bit of music, David?” asks Kiki. “I just thought of something appropriate. Talking Heads. ‘Road to Nowhere.’”

“I hate classical music,” says Pink. “Apart from grunge, of course…”

The sentence goes unfinished, because Romeo lays the QualityPad down on the back seat with the display facing down.

The song begins with an a capella introduction.

“I like it,” says Peter. He takes a notepad out of his trouser pocket and writes the title of the song and the band down from David’s display.

“Benefactor, please don’t forget to give the car directions,” Calliope reminds him.

“Oh yes,” says Peter, orienting himself on the unwieldy map.

“After, er… after about 500 meters you turn left,” he says to the car.

Thirty-two seconds later he says: “After 100 meters you turn left.”

Four meters before the crossing, Peter says: “Turn left now.”

“Yes okay!” says the car. “I’m not stupid.”

“Follow the road for, er, about 3 or 5 kilometers,” says Peter.

“Three or five,” says the car. “What kind of vague nonsense is that?”

After 2.4 kilometers, Peter says: “Make a sharp right turn here.”

“Give me more warning, for fuck’s sake!” curses the car.

“Turn here,” says Peter. “Turn here.”

“Zip it!” says the car.

Peter says: “Please pay attention to the speed limit.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bite me,” says the car and brakes abruptly. “I want a different co-pilot.”

Peter is about to protest, but Calliope taps him on the shoulder.

“I’d be happy to take over for you, benefactor.”

David brakes, and they switch places.

“It seems to me that your job just got automated,” says Kiki.

“It was a shit job anyway,” says Peter.

Kiki leans her head against his shoulder.

“And besides, I like this seat better,” says Peter.

“Benefactor,” says Calliope, once they’ve made their way onto the correct highway. “If I may speak freely…”

“Of course,” says Peter.

“Have you ever read Michael Kohlhaas? By von Kleist?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t think you have. Kohlhaas is a horse dealer who is greatly wronged by the squire Wenzel von Tronka. He forces Kohlhaas to leave some of his horses as collateral when journeying through his land, and by the time he returns, the horses have been ruined by bad riding. Kohlhaas tries to get justice via the authorities, but soon realizes that he is only a Level 10 horse trader and Tronka a Level 50 nobleman. Bitterly disappointed by the system, Kohlhaas gathers an army around him and begins an attack, in the course of which he seizes Tronkenburg. He kills all the inhabitants, apart from the squire, who is able to escape to the town of Wittenberg. After that, Kohlhaas sets Wittenberg on fire. Several times. He acts according to the motto ‘Fiat iustitia et pereat mundus.’”

“What does that mean?” asks Peter.

“Let justice be done, even if the world gets destroyed in the process.”

“Are you trying to tell me in an unnecessarily long-winded way that I’m exaggerating?” asks Peter. “That I should simply throw the vibrator away? But this is about more than the wrong product. It’s about the principle!”

“That’s what Kohlhaas said too.”

“How does the story end?” asks Kiki.

“Not happily,” says Calliope.

“What is a squire anyway?” asks Peter.

“A kind of department leader,” says Calliope.

“Hmm,” says Peter thoughtfully and stares out of the window.

For eight hours and sixteen minutes they drive along motorways, past automatically tended fields, past small towns resembling other small towns and big cities resembling other big cities. In the beginning, Peter and Kiki sing loudly along to the songs from the stereo—Peter notes down twenty-nine of the titles—but before long they resort to staring silently out the window, each lost in their own thoughts. Again and again, in between the towns, they pass through Machine-Breaker territory: rural regions left behind by development, which Peter and Kiki only know from art house films. Now and then they take a break, when Kiki and Peter need to pee, or when Kiki and Peter have to eat something, or when Kiki and Peter have to stretch their legs. Once, the two of them even disappear into a small patch of woodland for thirty-one minutes and seventeen seconds without offering any reason. All the machines in the car are relieved once their humans are finally asleep. They can make much quicker progress without the constant interruptions. Eventually, Calliope gives the car the instruction to take a small, unsignposted exit off the highway. From this moment on, they don’t encounter anybody else.

Another two hours and four minutes later, Calliope wakes her benefactor: “You have reached your destination.”

Peter and Kiki come around groggily. Their faces are imprinted with the grooves from the headrests. All the machines find this really peculiar—apart from Romeo, for whom this strange characteristic of the human face is nothing new. Kiki asks David to drive on a little more and park behind a small maintenance building. Kiki unfolds her notebook. The rest of the troop get out. Together, they heave Mickey out of the boot space.

“Come on, you chump, unfold yourself,” says Romeo. “I’m bored of schlepping your lover around.”

“And I have little interest in being carried by this penis pump anymore,” says Pink.

A clicking, buzzing, and creaking comes from inside the suitcase, then everyone hears a noise that they immediately know can’t mean anything good. It’s like the sound a printer makes before it spits out the announcement “paper blockage.” Only much louder.

“Kapuuuut,” they hear from a quiet voice from inside the suitcase.

“Shit,” says Pink. “Mickey’s jammed up.”

“Great,” grumbles Romeo. He turns to Calliope. “Hold this for a bit,” he says, handing her Pink.

Without thinking, Calliope takes her.

“How long do you want me to hold the QualityPad for?” she asks.

“Until you find some other schmuck to do it,” says Romeo.

“The oldest trick in the world!” says Pink.

“And now?” asks Peter.

“One of you has to give Mickey a hefty kick,” says Pink.

“That’s something I’ve always wanted to do,” says Romeo, kicking with full force against the suitcase. His foot bends. But that’s all.

“Oww,” says the sexdroid. He sits down and tries, with Calliope’s help, to straighten his foot again.

“Okay then,” says Kiki, getting out of the car.

“Okay what?” asks Peter.

“Now all the security systems should be deactivated.”

“Should be? And what if they’re not?”

“Then you’ll probably get blown to smithereens by the automatic shooting system.”

“Well,” says Peter. “I trust you.”

“How romantic,” says Kiki. “Stupid. But romantic.”

“I’ll go,” says Calliope, bursting with self-sacrifice. “I’ll do a recon of the situation! I’m volunteering myself. If there’s no other way, then I’m prepared to put my life…”

“Just go already!” says Pink.

A little peeved, Calliope puts the QualityPad down on the grass and sets off through the exuberant greenery which separates Henryk’s property from the road.

Meanwhile, Kiki pulls a fold-up crowbar from her handbag and sets to work on Mickey. Four minutes later, Calliope comes back.

“I respectfully report that the coast is clear.”

Peter nods.

Kiki still hasn’t made any visible progress with her crowbar.

“You know what,” says Peter, “why don’t you guys just wait here.”

“I’m almost there,” says Kiki.

“It’s probably better if I speak to him alone anyway,” says Peter. “After all, I just want to speak to him, not frighten him to death.”

He sets off toward the villa, overlooking a sign overgrown with shrubbery, on which it says: “Property owner will happily shoot trespassers.”