Andy Hawthorne

Cornelius Coffin liked his speeder. When the Zaponians arrived and made everyone give up their cars, vans and motorbikes, it caused uproar. 

Those Zaponians. They get quite stroppy when humans said they wanted to keep their cars. They issued at least 2.58 million termination orders. Terminations of the vehicles not the humans, they claimed. But Cornelius noticed the shops were quieter so he did wonder. 

Anyway, his Speeder. It was a Mk1, so not as ‘clean’ as the later models. But it went like excrement off a shiny garden implement so he was happy with that. 

Or, he was. Until the summons arrived. It came from the Department of Vehicular Inspection and was mandated by Section 200/1B of the Transportation Management Schedule. 

“Bloody waste of an afternoon,” muttered Cornelius. He rode his speeder very close to the hover limit on his way to the Inspection Portal, just for the hell of it. As he went zooming past one speed monitor, he made a gesture that involved holding up one finger with the finger nail facing outwards. The speed trap flashed, he thought. Maybe he’d get a fine. 

On arrival at the Inspection Portal, the booking clerk droid was all chirpy and annoying. 

“Good morning, citizen! Thank you for attending this important inspection appointment!”

“Yeah, can you get on with it?”

“You are number 10 in the queue.”

“What? You booked me in to this time slot, you useless f—“

“You are number 11 in the queue. Language violation ignored — this time.”

Cornelius gritted his teeth, and sat in the waiting room. Where he could get a synthetic coffee and a synthetic sandwich for 1 credit. He didn’t bother. He’d wait until he got home and have coffee that didn’t taste like sawdust. 

After what felt like a light year, his speeder was called forward. He waited, slightly nervous. 

His speeder slid out of the inspection tunnel. FAILED, flashed up on his neural implant. 

“Bollocks!” He muttered. 

“Language violation. Case 1005/1 filed.” Said the Droid Clerk.

“Oi! Droid! What did I fail on?”

“Your hover stabiliser is 0.003% outside regulation tolerance.” 

“What? 0.003%? Are you having a laugh?”

The Droid didn’t know what having a laugh was, so it didn’t reply. 

“Right, I’ll get it repaired, then.”

“You can’t leave until the repair is complete.”

“Well, who is going to repair it? I’m not a speeder mechanic—“

“It is already being repaired.”

“Oh, brill. How much will that be?”

“241.24 Credits. Payable now.” Said the Droid. 

Cornelius stared. “Fuck me, are you using gold plated parts?”

“Language Violation Case 1006/1 filed. And no, rare minerals are not used in any repair.”

“Great, a funny f—“ He managed to stop another language violation. And logged into his payment portal using his neural implant. A flip of his eyes and the payment was sent. 

It failed. 

“Biometric scan required,” said the Droid. Cornelius stared at the Droid. 

“Scan failed. Fingerprint scan required.” 

Cornelius couldn’t help himself. He held up his middle finger. 

“Language Violation and passive aggressive behaviour. Behaviour protocol breached. Immediate fine, 10 Credits,” intoned the Droid. 

“Scan my finger then, you metal f-, nice Droid.”

“Scan failure. Retina scan required.”

Cornelius felt his temper fracture fold in on itself like a Black Hole. 

“Look, you f-“

“Payment accepted. Have a nice day!”

The droid handed his Speeder key over. Cornelius leapt on his Speeder and shot off at speeds well beyond the allowed limit. And as he passed the speed trap, he paused his speeder, dropped his trousers and bared his arse at the camera.

He pulled up his trousers and sped off home. As he arrived, his neural implant flashed a massage:

“Automated medical appointment made. Please attend medical clinic no 24 tomorrow at 09:00. Reason: apparent rash on left buttock.”

Cornelius sighed.