The man from the future known as Fisher pulls into the lone VHC Town gas station and beeps his horn for service. “Two and a 1/2 hours to get here from Farmington,” he complains to his riding companion, also from the future. “This car is a piece of junk, Bendy.”
“It’s not the car,” his robot friend returned. “It’s the world. Physics ain’t good here. Language neither. Equilateral gravity is better for locomotion. This is just loco motion. Get it? Loco… motion.”
“I get it.” Fisher feigned a smile.
“Yeah, my former masters got that right. Squaring the circle and all.”
“Well, you’re here with me now Bendy. I won you fair and square in that chess match, circles be damned.”
“You’re not called Fisher for nothing. But I still think the game was rigged. ‘Winesap’?”
“Cash or credit?” It was Doogie Martin the attendant appearing at their side, with head strangely transmogrified from his Collagesity North days.
“Cash, I suppose.”
“Fill her up?” Doogie returned. “Regular? Premium?”
“Yes to all except the premium, haha. Bendy, why don’t you run in and get those crackers you like. Get me a Mars Bar. Use the quarters I gave you earlier.”
“Vending machine’s broke,” says Doogie plainly while removing the gas cap and inserting the pump nozzle. “We have honey,” he offered.
“Honey, Bendy?” queried Fisher to Bendy without much enthusiasm.
“I’d rather eat the bees themselves.”
“That can possibly be arranged,” Doogie deadpanned back to Bendy. “Father’s trying to downsize. We’ll probably be out of here by the end of the month.”
“Oh. You don’t like, um, what’s this place called?”
“VHC *City*. Not town, like some say.”
“All right. What’s wrong with this *city*?”
Gas tank full, Doogie retracted the nozzle and put it back in its carriage without answering. “Comes to L$18.66. You did say you had money.” Doogie then raises an arm and snaps his fingers without turning. A squat marshmallow man squeezes through the door of the station and wallows up beside him. “Trouble here sire?” he speaks in a doughy voice.
Doogie keeps his eyes fixed on Fisher. “I don’t know, Marshall. Is there trouble Mr…?”
“Fisher. But not a first or last name. Just a name. Give them the money Bendy. Withdraw it out of your chest cavity. No trouble here, Mr… Mr…”
“Martin. Like the bird.” A sweating Bendy hands him a 20 dollar bill, which Doogie hands, in turn, to his muscle bound assistant. “Make yourself useful Marshall and go get change for these people while I keep an eye out here.”
“Sure thing boss.”
Doogie starts to look over the car better as Marshall reenters the station. “MK2, eh? Worth the jump up from the MK1 for the money. 1 second faster in the 0-60. Wider rear windshield; synchromesh gearbox. Exhaust system still leaves something to desire.”
Marshall reappears, hands Fisher a dollar and change. Doogie looks up into the sky. “Sun’s setting soon. You best be where you’re heading before dark. When the vampires are out, everyone else stays in.” He and Marshall walk off without saying goodbye, although he does throw up a hand in parting.
“Get the lead out, old chap,” requests Bendy to Fisher, who complies.
“If the vampires do get them, maybe they’ll sell us back that car,” Doogie says to Marshall as they speed away.
Sunklands 