Differences From
Artifact [a5d9569017]:
345 345 Heading home from her interview, talking to her mother, either in Oklahoma or Nebraska or maybe even Wyoming, Alley should probably call the interview a "fucking disaster" and get scolded passive-aggressively for profanity. She does not want to move to her mother's state any more than her father's -- probably either Michigan or . . . something -- she will resist urging from her mother to do so, based on cost of living and the many numerous job opportunities for her there being complicit in the creation of the oppressive dominant order.
346 346
347 347 */
348 348
349 349
350 350 ## back to Alley's narrative
351 351
352 -The eastern outskirts of Riverside slid past the hybrid's windows, getting more and more run down as Alley drove toward San Bernardino.
352 +The mission district of Riverside slid past the hybrid's windows, getting more and more run down as Alley drove toward Moreno Valley.
353 353
354 354 "So, how did your interview go?" her mother asked, via Alley's handsfree earpiece.
355 355
356 356 "Not good. Their first question was about Dalton."
357 357
358 358 "He's very well known, a respectable public figure. You should use that to your advantage. Maybe you could ask him for a reference."
359 359
................................................................................
385 385
386 386 "Okay. Drive safe."
387 387
388 388 "'Bye, Mom." She hung up before her mother could say something else.
389 389
390 390 In that moment, a flash of motion alongside her car set her heartbeat racing. A silent black motorcycle bearing a rider all in black, from helmet to boots, blasted past her. No license plate displayed itself on the back of the bike, and it split lanes, weaving between vehicles, doing at least sixty in a forty mile per hour zone. Seconds later, just after it clipped the side mirror on a two-seat economy electric car, shooting through the gap between that and a larger car in the next lane, the motorcycle rounded a corner onto a smaller side street. It never even slowed down much, as far as she could tell.
391 391
392 -When she drove through the intersection where the motorcycle turned, she looked, and saw no sign of it. She shook her head and moved on. A few more seconds later, and she heard sirens somewhere behind her. She assumed the police pursued the motorcycle rider.
392 +When she drove through the intersection where the motorcycle turned, she looked, and saw no sign of it. She shook her head and moved on, wondering about the red symbol on the rider's back. It looked like a ring with teeth like a gear, but open at the top, with a hammer rising from the middle of it. The hammer seemed to form the vertical bar part of a standard power button symbol.
393 393
394 -The next forty minutes of driving to get home in [Lake] Perris were much more dull, typical, and frustrating. Her mother wasn't wrong about the traffic. The yellowish grey of the air was no treat, either, and told her what she could have learned from the air quality report: breathing was bad for her lungs. Luckily, it was a cool enough day to keep her car windows closed. Most of that coolness probably came from the crap in the sky, blocking the heat of the sun, though.
394 +A few more seconds later, she heard sirens somewhere behind her. She looked into her rearview mirror and saw police vehicles with their lights flashing turning down the same streat as the motorcycle rider. She kept going, heading for Allessandro Boulevard.
395 +
396 +The next fifty minutes of driving to get home in Perris were much more dull, typical, and frustrating. Her mother wasn't wrong about the traffic. The yellowish grey of the air was no treat, either, and told her what she could have learned from the air quality report: breathing was bad for her lungs. Luckily, it was a cool enough day to keep her car windows closed. Most of that coolness probably came from the crap in the sky, blocking the heat of the sun, though.
395 397
396 398 When she pulled up to the curb, the garage stood open at the north end of the four-plex where she leased the south unit. The landlord had the only unit with a garage. Like usual, he was in his garage with no mask, working on an old gas guzzler, one of his "classic car" projects. This one looked old enough that it probably contained no electronics more complicated than for fuel injection.
397 399
398 400 Alley groaned, tugged her mask tighter again, and opened the car door. She got around the front of her car, to the sidewalk, before her landlord stepped out of the garage. He wiped his hands on the obligatory red shop rag, and called out to her.
399 401
400 402 "Hey, Alley! It's Monday!"
401 403