"Bad Car. Bad."

“What?”

“I said: “Give us the keys and you won’t get hurt.”

I smiled. 

“Young man, this isn’t my car.”

The young man and his three companions all laughed.

“Then it should be easier for you to give us the keys.”

I smiled again. 

“This car belongs to a very powerful man. He will not like that you took his car. I mean, well, he won’t give up until he finds you.”

The young thugs laughed again.  (I was courteous when I said “young man”, when they continued to carry on with the Robbery/Car Jacking…I changed their nomenclature to the new moniker: thugs.)

One of the young girls with the hooligans spoke up:

“Just shoot him Nate, and take the keys already.”

Now I was angry. 

“Just shoot me and take the keys? Who raised you? Are you really that much of an animal?”

She hissed at me. But before she could reach out to scrape me with her nails, I backed up a step and held out the keys.”

Nate smiled. 

“See, didn’t even have to shoot the old dude.”

They all laughed as they piled in the car. 

This time…I smiled. And it wasn’t a pleasant one. 

“As much as I would love to just have you all go to jail…I have to warn you. This isn’t an ordinary car. It is a prototype.”

“It’s a Merceds, Dude. And now it is ours.”

I felt I had to warn them again. Youth does make mistakes. 

“It is. But it has an AI in it. The Owner calls her “Mercy.” 

The window slid down like ice over water, with no sound, no friction, and was a statement to how well built the car was. That glass could stop an RPG round…and yet it was crystal clear, and moved silently. 

“Well, Mercy is going for a ride!”

As the window glided back to its closed setting with the gentle “thunk” of a balanced bank vault door, I yelled one more warning:

“Ah…Mercy is a bit temperamental …she might not like you treating her badly.”

The thugs all laughed as they felt the power unleashed under them. 

They pulled out of the gas station with a purr of power, a shower of gravel sprayed out and pinged against the pumps. I took out my phone. I could have called the Owner. But instead…I called Mercy. 

“Hey grey hair.”

Mercy knew I was bald. It was her first joke…and well, the name stuck. And that is what she called me. If she called me by my name, I knew she was aware the Owner, or his guests were in the Car. Because only then was she strictly formal. 

“Don’t hurt those kids. Just don’t let them out. Let us know where the Cops should meet you. “

Mercy laughed. She had a nice laugh. It wasn’t the one programmed into her…it is the one she developed during training. All the Techies were afraid she was showing signs of becoming an Intelligent Agent. She would laugh and say:

“Becoming Human? How silly. I am a car. A very pretty car, I might add, so keep your hands off of my leather.”

The Techies laughed. A car with a personality. They loved it. So did the Owner. He had paid much more than sticker price to ensure his Maybach was the only one of its kind. After a month with Mercy …well, he was sure of it. Mercy was unique. So was the car. 

And now, four young thugs were driving and about to learn just how weird her sense of humor really is. 

“Do not smoke.”

The voice was stern. Female. Kind of like the a Mom at the end of her rope vibe in her words. 

They looked around. No one was in the car. The voice wasn’t coming from the radio or a playlist. They hadn’t figured out the Entertainment screens …yet. 

The same girl that wanted the old man shot, took the blunt from Nate’s hand. “Don’t listen to her… I will light it.”

Suddenly the music inside the car got so loud they all had to cover their ears. Nate let go of the wheel, but the car stayed in the right lane. The punk girl (along with everyone else) was screaming. Not that anyone could hear any of the others. The music was so loud.  Nate started screaming:

“Stop. Stop! STOP!”

The music went down to very soft chill level Jazz. The kind of music you would sip coffee and read too. 

It took several minutes as the car took in the mountain curves effortlessly for their hearing to return.

“WTF?!”

“Now, now…no cursing.”  Said the female voice that filled the car. 

“Who are you ?!”

“Me? Well, I am the car you are riding in. My name is Mercy. But since you stole me from old grey hair, and then tried to smoke inside me, I don’t think you will get any mercy from me. Kind of ironic …isn't it?”

Mercy laugh filled the car. The techies would have loved the joke. The young thugs…did not. 

“Shut up Bit…”

Nate never finished the word. The Music came up again. And this time, the windows went dark. Not dark. Black. Pure black. Nothing outside the car was visible. 

The two girls and the unnamed thug screamed. 

“We are going to die! I can’t see where we are going.”

It was Nate who realized that nobody was driving the car. His hands were covering his ears. The other three pairs of hands were pawing at the window. Smashing button and yanking handles…trying to get out of car. 

The windows cleared. They could see they were still in their own lane. Traveling at the curvy mountain road speed limit; 25 mph. They passed a “Curves ahead” sign that looked like a long winding snake. It said:

“Winding road. 15 mph.” 

The car spoke again. 

“If you ever call me a name again, you will never leave this car…alive.”

The girl who wanted to kill an innocent old stranger spoke up with all the anger and spite she had for everyone dripping from every word. 

“What are you going to do fancy car…shoot us?”

And they all laughed. Until…

“Hey, what’s that sound?”

‘Oh that (in a sultry sweet sugary voice), that’s just me emptying all the air out of the cabin.”

It only took a few moments for four young thugs, now getting scared at an exponential rate to realize they couldn’t breathe. 

“No, no..no…”

The air flowed again. They stopped choking as cool, perfectly balanced humidified air gently brought the inside of the car to the absolute perfect environment for Humans to breathe in. 

Mercedes had the most advanced air flow system ever designed. And Mercy knew just how good it was. She used some back door tricks the designers never knew existed. She could use the fire retarding features in a way the manufacture never imagined. So she took out the air. No air…no fire. No air…four thugs get the message. 

“Just let us out.”

This time, Mercy’s laugh was loud and long. 

“No. You took me against my will. Threatened my friend and Driver. And offered to kill another person…just for the thrill of it all. And you wanted to go for a thrill ride…so let’s get some thrills. “

The car leaped forward. The four thugs were stunned into silence. They had always heard that cars could leap forward, now they knew that in a literal sense. For Mercy had power to spare. Her top end was 243 miles an hour. At least that is what the published numbers said. Mercy thought she could do a bit better with some tweaks. 

Right now, she was taking the turns at a very respectable seventy miles an hour without drifting even an inch over the center line. She thought it was fun. 

Four thugs pressing their feet against the floor trying to trigger imaginary brakes…well, they didn’t think it was fun. Trees and curves were hurtling by forcing their bodies to experience G forces, and their stomachs to churn. 

“Stop…please…stop…please.”

Their cries fell on deaf ears…er…uh…well, sensors. 

Instead the speedometer creeped up in five mile an hour increments:

70, 75, 80, 85, 90, 95…a 100 miles an hour…on a switchback with a top speed of 15 mph. The thugs were now screaming at decibels approaching what Mercy had used to shut them up. It was music to her ears. 

She heard whimpering, prayers, crying…but no curses. That made her smile. They were learning. She slowed back down to 35 as they came out to the top of the climb. Going down hill in front of them was a long straight away that went under a stone bridge archway about three miles down the incline. Almost a tunnel entrance…but not quite. Just an old stone bridge solid enough to stop a car doing two hundred miles an hour with little more than couple of bricks chipping. 

“Perfect ! “

Said Mercy.

The four thugs were completely cowering. The could not open doors. Or windows. The car was driving itself. None of the buttons worked. And their phones were dormant. Mercy’s owner valued his privacy. No phone worked inside that car. Unless Mercy let the signal out. She didn’t let theirs out. 

She pulled over onto the small over look. A beautiful valley strung out for miles as the road descended towards the old stone bridge. The thugs tried everything to open the doors or windows. When Nate turned in his seat to kick out the window…he heard Mercy speak again. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I already told you not to damage my interior. If you kick that window at that angle, you will break your own leg. That window can take small arms fire, and anti take weapons without flinching. But if you want to break your leg…be my guest. “

Nate sat back straight. The bargaining began. They swore on everything from the Bible to their Mother’s grave that they would never do wrong again. If Mercy would just let them out.  They would reform. They would become the best version of themselves. Just let us out. Please.

Mercy heard them. But she didn’t believe them. I watched on my phone, as I am sure the Owner himself was, as Mercy started gently to ease back on the road. She had texted us what she planed to do. And the cops would get to that bridge, from the other direction about a minute after she taught the four fools a final lesson. 

She let the brakes go, the engine roared to life, uttering the sound of unleashed power held in check to long. If engines could smile this one would be wearing a grin as wide ad the car and you swear you could hear it say: “Finally!”

After a quarter mile, they had hit the posted numbers in the Owners Manual…243 Miles an hour. The needle pegged at 250. There was no where for it to go. Mercy laughed out loud inside the Cabin. A self satisfied tone to her voice. 

“I knew it! I knew we could beat those numbers.”

The engine…agreed. Nobody would ever know just how far past 243 they went. 250 was the last known measurement. But Mercy and the engine knew it was more like 262 or a bit better. Satisfaction hit them both. They had nothing left to give. At that speed, it would take less than 23 seconds to hit the bridge. 

The four young people saw their death heading towards them. They couldn’t look to the sides out the windows…the “Star Wars Effect” was in full throttle. Telephone poles looked like picket fences with barely a gap between them. And fences looked like streaks of white paint. 

All they could see, was in front of them. They had tunnel vision and the bricks and stone work were revealing minute details. Their brains were working at a primal level….so even with the intense speed the car was hurtling towards those same bricks and stones…time slowed down. They could see in their minds eyes…what it would look like when the car hit that bridge …and stopped. And they…did not. 

The smell of fear, the smell of bodily fluids being emptied and bowels being evacuated …was overpowering. Tears and screams were torn from bodies moved beyond frightened to the realms of terrifying inevitability. And then…

The brakes made the engineers proud, as the engine and acceleration …died. The car stopped as smooth and gentle as a kitten as it kissed the wall with a gentle tap. 

The four thugs…well, they passed out. En mass. A second chance at life granted unexpectedly was too much for their minds to cope with. So they just checked out as a group. 

The cops arrived not fifteen second later. The doors opened with silent grace. Four unconscious punks, their clothes stained with the sweat of fear…and other things, were starting to stir. 

The Cops stepped back, waving their hands in front of their noses. 

And they laughed out loud when one of the Cops said:

“Well, there goes the Urban Myth of being “scared Sh*tless”. Whatever this car did to them to scare them…it buried that myth. “

I looked at my phone as I am sure the Owner was doing. Mercy had kept the cameras and mic’s running the whole time. I heard Mercy default to her Factory Robot Voice:

“I will connect you to the owner now." (Sound of call being transferred)

“Hello? This is Officer Clyde Ruffkin. We, err…well, we have your car…and well, it is going to need a deep cleaning.”

I listened in, just like Mercy was doing, as my Boss and her Owner told the Police he didn’t think he need to press charges. Just show the first part of the robber to their Mothers and Fathers and I think they will reform over time. 

The Police Officer thanked him for not causing a ton of paper work. And they would transport the miscreants to their homes.  But what about the car the Officer asked. 

“Oh, well I am sending some Paramedics to clean her up. They have to do clean those Squad Ambulances after some pretty gory treatments. They assured me they could have her sparkling within an hour or so. I have ordered an Uber for my Driver. He should be there in 20 minutes or so.  So everything is okay.”

As the Cop car, with a very full back seat, pulled away, I heard my boss say to Mercy:

“Bad car. Bad. “

And I laughed.