Image credit: Twitter Twemoji Image credit: Twitter Twemoji
I pointed at the screen above us. “We’re running out of time,” I said. “The next train will depart in like 2 minutes.”
“But we followed Google’s instructions exactly,” Zach complained.
“Listen,” I told him. “Sometimes the big G works in mysterious ways, let’s run!”
We ran across the complex of glass and metal, guided by artificial lights and tempted by flickering advertisements. We ran up the stairs to the station platform without paying, because we had passes that were supposed to be scanned during the journey, in the unlikely event that a fare officer materialized in front of us.
My feet found their balance on the platform just in time for my eyes to find the doors sliding shut on the green and white train cars.
“We missed it,” said Zach.
“By exactly 10 seconds,” I said. “You see, the instructions were exactly correct. If we left the subway 5 seconds earlier, and spent 3 less seconds on the escalator, and walked 1.5 times as fast towards the information screen, we would have made it.”
“Are these instructions made for humans?” asked Zach over the sound of wheels grinding against rails.
As the smell of fuel entered my nostrils, I contemplated whether humans were made to simply follow instructions.
“Now what?” asked Zach.
“Now we tell everyone we’ll be 30 minutes late, buy a soda and leisurely wait for the next train,” I said.
Ten minutes later, with water vapor condensing rapidly on the surface of our cola cans, Zach pointed at the screen above us. “We have extra time,” he said. “The next train is cancelled.”
This was written in 15 minutes during a Joy of Writing meetup.