Icon #6 Undecided

#6 Undecided

Fred sat behind the wheel and stared. Ahead, the road forked. There was a road sign in the center of the fork. One sign should have pointed left, and the other right. They did not. They pointed down, swinging aimlessly in the breeze, one above the other. They weren’t even nailed to the sides of the post. Some moron had nailed them to the front, and there was no way to tell which way either had pointed before they came loose. Or were taken loose. Christ.

He pulled over to the side of the road and stepped out of the Porsche. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to get a closer look, and he needed to stretch his legs anyway. He stepped up close to the sign and inspected it. His irritation grew. The lettering was worn and faded. One side said “T – - r” The other side said simply “- -r-” and nothing more. There were smudges and marks, but no damned way to draw them together into even a guess at what they said. And it didn’t make sense.

He was on the road to Old Mill, NC. At least, he thought he was. He could have just stayed on Highway 17, but he’d been playing with his new nav device, and it had programmed a shortcut. It was an odd product, one his company was thinking about developing for US Sales, and his was one of the first in place. The Hotep – your “Here or There Everything Partner” was touted as the most comprehensively supported navigational device on the market, having maps in multiple countries, as well as states and counties. It had been developed by an Egyptian software company and was expected to distribute widely in about six months. The Hotep hadn’t even hesitated when Fred asked it for the shortest route, and when it suggested he take a darkened highway exit just off the bypass, he’d gone for it. It was only a few miles to Old Mill, but he wanted to know what the thing could do.

Now this. No mention of any cities enroute, just turns and distances. It should have been almost a straight shot across the cotton field-dotted countryside, a jog back onto 17, and into town. Now he found that the Hotep was blinking at him as if he’d gone straight off the map, and he was faced with a choice.

He had the vague notion that 17 was to his right, but looking back the way he’d come he saw the road was one long, sweeping set of curves. It was nearly impossible to guess which direction was which. Neither road looked well traveled. He knew he couldn’t just sit there, and the fucking Hotep was useless at this point…

He got back into the Porsche, slammed the door, and turned down the right fork. About a hundred feet down the road, the Hotep came back to life. Odd symbols flashed across the screen. A message blinked at him slowly. It was one of the stupidest features he’d ever seen, and he made a mental note to have it coded out. The damned thing said…”You went right…Gnarly, Hotep”

Gnarly? Who says gnarly these days?

The horizon flashed with heat lightning, and in the clouds, he thought he saw something very large, looming above the line of trees, with long streaming tentacles and a huge, horrible eye.