“You are much too practical. Why do you search for a technical answer when, if you
opened your mind, other possibilities would become clear? Tootles listened to your needs
and, as much as she was able, provided for those needs. Have you not considered that
perhaps an eternal soul has been reborn in your car?”
“Nani Clive?”
“It is —“
My unprintable comment cut him off and ended our exchange.
Two days after my run-in with Uncle Amit, the FBI report was released, stating that
one-third of the software code on my car had been replaced and over one hundred million
lines of code added.
DriveTek simultaneously announced that it was possible my car had been a concept car
and been mistakenly shipped to a dealership without a complete software reinstall. They
were negotiating a settlement with the family of the victim and instigating enhanced process
changes and oversight to ensure the mistake was never repeated.
DriveTek contacted me about shipping the latest model as a replacement for my car,
but in a fit of sentimentality — I couldn’t even explain to myself — I asked them to return
the DLCx that had saved my life. DriveTek agreed to do so, after erasing its memory and
installing the latest version of the software.
I picked up the DLCx at the dealership on a cold February day. Attached to the
keyless remote was a letter from DriveTek noting in bold that tampering with the DLCx’s
programming would void my warranty. Since I had a few errands to run, I directed the car
to take me to a grocery store. It drove me to a nearby Harris Teeter and came to rest in
the nearest available parking space. I realized then that Tootles was truly gone — and that
I would miss her.
Several months later I received a call from Uncle Amit. He said he was flying through
DC on Saturday. He had a layover of seven hours and asked if I had time to meet him for
brunch.
Of course I did. I invited him over to my apartment for dosas and a masala omelet. As
I cooked, Uncle wandered through my apartment, occasionally exclaiming over a trinket
or furnishing he remembered from Nani Clive. I apologized for blaming him for my car’s
troubles but he waved his hand in dismissal and changed the topic.
All too soon Uncle had to leave for the airport. I offered to drive but he called for a taxi,
saying I looked like I needed a nap. He was right. It had been a long week.
28
The Ghouls’ Review