Sloppy

Sitting in the front seat of the Toyota Rav 4, I guessed I had about an hour left of charge before I'd have to switch over to the backup battery, and then I'd need to hope my hotel had a Supercharger, or at least somewhere I could plug in my transformer for the night.

I sat my Canadian signal beacon on top of the American one so as not to raise suspicion if the gate inspectors poked their nose in. The trunk was out of the question as it was sure to get looked at.

Pulling up to the city entrance, the MTO sign mentions an increased threat level due to some recent truck bombings, and to expect delays. The way traffic was moving, I was more annoyed than concerned about exploding to death. I always hated coming into town without needing to, and even though I didn't need to do anything– people still hadn't learned how to drive. I wanted to be back on my property, splitting wood, maybe building something. I didn't want to be in traffic.

I advance into the separated lanes leading to the inspection station, which reminded me of my nephew's Hot Wheel's tracks. A white F-150 pulls ahead of me and into the lane on my left, and, having chosen the correct lane, is immediately put second in line for inspection. I count the cars ahead of me and see that I'm seventh. I thought about the home invasion, and how I let some shit-heel get the jump on me.

Aside from the metal separators that kept traffic into tightly controlled lanes, it was obvious that cameras were everywhere. Glancing in my rear view, I could see that the overhead sign that had read "ALL LANES OPEN" on one side had arrays of black security cameras, capturing license plates, drivers, and anything else they happened to be looking at, on the reverse. Those, in addition to the obvious cameras on pylons all throughout the crossing always gave me a sense of unease.

The city wall itself, at least at this crossing, had walkway between two three-foot solid metal guard rail panels on either side, allowing anyone on the catwalk to have an overhead view of incoming traffic. On either end of the wall, on the far left and the far right, were a couple of control towers with semi-transparent windows that sat on a raised level, allowing a fully unobstructed view out on to the tarmac below, and no doubt a look at the cameras that were currently pointed at me.

Traffic begins to move and I'm three cars back from the automated bollards that raise to block the Honda Civic, which was in front of the Kia Forte, which was in front of my Rav 4. From where I could see the trio of relish jar RCMP officers with carbines stand around while two other relish jars ran mirrors to check the underside for ordinances or whatever. Another officer was running the driver's ID and asking the standard questions.

Another Mountie in cammo was milling along the mezzanine catwalk along the city wall. I watched him walk into the observation tower, as another one walked out, strapping a helmet on and descending unseen down a stairway leading to the other side of the wall.

A horn honked behind me and I began to pay attention again, as I saw the Kia Forte in front of me come to a stop on the white painted X while the bollards raised. I pulled forward a car length, getting ready for inspection.

I watch the RCMP officers who were standing around perk up a bit while the Kia passes over the bollards allowing me to pull forward.

As I pulled on to the white X and stopped as the bollards raised up to block me in, but instead of coming over to take my papers right away, one puts a hand out and down to tell me to 'hold on'. I wound my window down anyway, and then I heard it too, like a swarm of mechanized hornets.

"Fuck me!"

"Hold on a moment, sir," he says in my direction, "Wind you window up."

"Here they are boys."

"Richards, get the jammers on."

"I said wind your window up. You," he says to the driver of the Hyundai Elantra behind me, "Put your camera down."

I push the wrong button.

"Wind your fucking window up!"

My window rises.

"Roger that, will engage.

"Shit."

"Get the cannons up and see if they can catch any."

"Roger."

My arm fell off when they engaged the jamming signal, I turned off the ignition the best I could and just sat in my car waiting for it to be over. I knew with the jamming signal anything that got through whatever the anti-air cannons couldn't catch would be shot down by these guys, and if not that, then the jamming signal would drop them off.

The soldiers get in formation and some of them start shooting at a swarm of about a hundred or so quad-copters. A few of them drop and explode their payloads down the roadway, causing chaos in the lineup behind me. One drops on the tarmac leading to the truck inspection station leaving a sizable hole in the roadway.

The first few of the wave of drones start to drop as soon as they get within range of the jamming signal, most of those dropping off safely the side of the road, or colliding with each other mid air.

The soldiers pulled out a hand held rocket thing from a crate and fired it off in the direction of the drones. I'm not sure what it was, but I watched it explode in a puff of white smoke and... something else I couldn't quite make it out, but nearly half the drones dropped to the ground, their payloads exploding on impact somewhere off in the bush.

They fire off another round of the hand held rocket thing, hitting a grouping just outside the range of the jamming signal, and I see what looks like white paint hit the drones before they drop. Whatever that stuff was, it was great against quad-copters.

The anti-air cannons do their job, and a half dozen extra officers come out from behind the wall to start recovering the downed units and go assess the truck inspection station.

Eventually it quiets down and my overwhelming fear of exploding to death behind the wheel eventually fades. The officer who was telling me to put my window up walked back over to my window after a while and knocked.

"Sorry sir, you know how it is. Can I have your ID and papers?"

"Yeah sure, can you ask your guys to turn the jamming signal off? I'd like to put my arm back on."

He hesitates.

"I lost... uh... it at Kingston."

He leans back and yells, "Richards! Kill it."

My shoulder maglocks powered back on while he was looking me over and comparing it to my ID. I reattach my arm and move my fingers making sure my settings were still in place.

"Why do you need to come to the city?"

"Federal records. I've got a hotel on Slater."

"Mmhm, and how long?"

"Probably overnight. Heading out in the morning."

"You swear before the crown that you are not here as part of an anti-government coalition?" He was half smiling, but very serious.

"Obviously not," I say, gesturing towards my arm.

"All right. Head on across the causeway, you'll see the tunnel, take that, and you'll avoid most of the, uh... undesirables."

The bollards descend as he handed me my papers and waved me through. Putting my window up, I realized that they didn't mirror the underside of my car or check my trunk before waving me through.

Sloppy.