#which is very new and has lots of flashy bits and symbols i don't understand

[cherrydreamer]

Billy’s not a luddite, OK? 

His music taste may be firmly stuck in the 80s, but he's upgraded from tapes and CDs to listening to Ratt and  Mötley Crüe with a Spotify account now. And he has a phone. A smartphone. He had to be cajoled into getting it, but now he has it, he has to admit that he quite likes it.

He likes the dumb games. Especially the Scrabble one he's totally thrashing Max at (and OK maybe he's losing a little to Lucas, but his damn brother-in-law knows all these crazy clever science words that aren't in any dictionary Billy's ever come across so that doesn’t really count.)

He likes sending pictures to Steve when he's at work. Not even dirty ones, although he still does that a bit. No, he likes the GIFs. The fun snippets from movies and cute animal reaction shots. He likes it when Steve sends them back too.

He really likes the folder with all his photos in. Hundreds and hundreds of pictures of Steve. Lots of the two of them together, taken at arm's length. Landmarks and breathtaking views behind them, but Billy was only really looking at Steve when he took them.

There are even more of Steve on his own- Steve sipping on cocoa with a dot of cream on his nose, Steve hammering a nail into the wall with a toolbelt around his waist, Steve asleep on a lounger in their garden. One with Steve holding Paradise Kitty- Dicey for short- when they first brought her home from the shelter. Another later that evening of him asleep with Dicey curled up on his chest. That’s the one Billy set as his wallpaper.

So Billy gets technology, OK? He's not old or out of touch or anything like that. He just doesn't like the technology in cars. Steve's car, especially. Because that's gone too far. Steve has gone too far.

Because Steve got a new car with all the extras. He went and said yes to every single thing the sleazy salesman offered and didn't even try to haggle. So now his damn Beemer looks like the cockpit of the fucking Starship Enterprise, full of flashing lights and beeping alerts and screens, for God's sake, with these fancy cameras showing you what’s behind you, because apparently rich people don't want the bother of turning their fucking heads.

And normally this would all be fine. It’s very rare that Billy has to go in Steve’s car anyway, and yes, on those few occasions when he does he hates it and he’s very vocal about that, but at least he’s not the one who has to actually deal with the flashes and beeps.

But today his car is in the shop. And today one of them needs to go and get groceries. And today Steve is busy working from home. So. It’s happening. Billy is finally going to drive Steve’s car.

He immediately gets off to a bad start with Christine (named because she’s clearly possessed, and also because Gina the Beemer is a terrible name, Steve). He settles in and scoots the seat forward because not everyone has damn beanpole legs, and presses a button. A button. Doesn't even need to stick a key in a hole and that just feels wrong. 

The car beeps at him almost instantly, a little picture of a seat belt flashing up. 

“Jesus, I’m getting to it,” Billy grumbles at the screen. He figures that’s what controlling all of this, after all, “Fucking... let a guy settle in first.” And he has things to do. Like figure out how to connect his phone to the radio when there are no trailing wires and cords to plug in. 

But Christine beeps. Beep and flashes and beeps some more until Billy clicks the seatbelt in with a growl, “There. Fine. All strapped in nice and tight. Happy now?”

And she seems to be. She’s stopped beeping and flashing at least and left him in peace to finally get the stereo to see his phone. But then there’s another beep. A blip, actually, and the screen flares to life with a map and some demanding voice asks him to ‘input a destination’.

“Nope.” Billy jabs at the screen. The map does not go away. The voice asks again.

“I know how to get to the shop. I go every week. I don’t need you.” Billy punctatues each remark with a jab to the screen, clicking every single ‘x’ he can see until he finally gets the thing to shut up.

It doesn’t get any better once he starts driving. The map flares up anyway, a huge arrow showing him exactly where he is on the road, and then flashing a warning for upcoming heavy traffic.

“I know there’s traffic,” Billy hissed, turning the music up over the tinny pips of the notification, “It’s 4pm, there are school buses, there’s always traffic here. I know as much as you, you dumb car.”

He pokes at the screen again, managing to turn off the warning, and sits quite happily in the traffic that he definitely knew about and manages to get to the supermarket without many more distractions.

Until it’s time to park. And he decides to reverse in.

As soon as he flicks the stick to ‘R’, the reverse view camera fills the screen, showing him a stretch of asphalt and the trunk of a tree. Billy ignores it in favour of actually turning his head to look and see the exact same stretch of asphalt and the trunk of a tree.

And then Christine starts beeping again. Louder and faster the more he reverses. And that grates on Billy’s already tender nerves,

“I can damn well park by myself,” he growls, “Got a licence to prove it and everything. I was reverse parking before you were even a concept.” 

Christine’s beeping just increases in speed and shrillness. And then there’s a bump. A tiny tap as the back of the car oh-so-gently touches the little iron railing around the base of the tree. 

And that does not help Billy’s fraying nerves.

He’s thankful when he gets in the store. Mostly for the non-beeping shopping cart and the fact that it doesn’t try to direct him in a more practical route around the store, or warn him that he’s getting too close to a stack of paper towels. God, he’d take a wonky wheel and suspiciously sticky handles over Christine and her neurosis anyday. 

*

Billy loads all the groceries into the front seat. Not because he backed too close to the tree and he can’t open the trunk, but purely for convenience when they get home. Christine beeps again as soon as he’s in, and Billy scowls as he clicks his seatbelt in, “I’ll belt up and you shut up,” he mutters, but the beeps continue and the seatbelt sign still keeps flashing. So Billy unbuckles himself and tries again, even more dramatically this time. 

Still no change. Still beeping and flashing.

“I’m safe you fucker. LOOK!” He unclips the belt, waving the metal end in the air and then slowly and deliberately clipping it into place, “There. Happy?”

Christine is not. She beeps. She flashes. So Billy yells. He unclips again and stretches the seatbelt as far forward as he can, until the metal clip is tapping on the screen in the centre of the dashboard.

“Watch. Watch this. Beeping little shit.” He rams the clip in as hard as he can, “There. IN. It can’t go any more in,” he tugs wildly at the belt, showing exactly how securely fastened it is, “I’m in. I’m safe. I’m strapped down like its a goddamn straightjacket. I am going NOWHERE.”

He looks up to see a woman at the cart return looking at him with a worried expression, and Billy gives her a too-bright smile and a sarcastic wave until she turns around and dashes back to her car. Christine is still beeping.

“What the hell else do you want?” Billy grumbles, “I have my seatbelt on, I am doing what you asked I don’t know what more you can- oh!”

He reaches over to lift up the grocery bags from the passenger seat, and the beeping stops immediately, the flashing light disappearing from view.

“OH!” Billy smirks, dropping the bags back down and watching as the screen lights up again. He leans right over to buckle the passenger seatbelt over the bags, watching in delight as the car calms herself right back down again.

“Oh Christine” he tuts, shaking his head, “thought you knew it all, huh? Can’t even tell a carton of milk and some pasta from an actual, living human?” he smirks, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he pulls out of the parking space, “Fucking smart-tech my ass.” Billy’s a few miles down the road when he leans forward to try and skip a track on the radio, a pothole sending him lurching forward and causing him to accidentally brush against another button with his wrist. He’s not sure what he did, until a few minutes late. And that’s when Billy discovers the heated seats. And, ok, maybe there are some extras worth paying for.