ROAD STOP
by David Mason
It was like any other car on the road. It
was automatic, self-contained—and eternal!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, January 1963.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The highway stretched away in ruler-straight perspective toward bothhorizons, black and shining in the sun like a river of ink. Besideit, the bright pastel buildings of Rest Stop 25 stood among the greentrees. Occasionally a car shot past, a flash of metal and a hiss ofsplit wind; but the road was one which was used more often at night,and was nearly empty in the afternoon.
Sam was the only attendant on duty. Stop 25 needed only two humanattendants, even at its busiest hours. He sat, staring out at thehighway, his elbows on the lunch counter, his round face blank, buthis mouth set tightly. The phone at his elbow emitted a small gruntingnoise.
"You still there?" the phone voice said inquiringly.
"Yeah." Sam said, still staring at the highway.
"Well...." The voice paused. "Look, it might not come your way. Itusually turns west at the New Britain intersection."
"Not always." Sam said. "It went by here once before."
"It almost never stops, anyway," the voice said firmly. "It won't stop."
"Some times it does," Sam said.
"It doesn't have to."
Sam shrugged and said nothing.
"Okay, then," the voice said. "I called you about it, anyway."
"Thanks."
Sam turned away, still watching the road.
Far off a speck of metal gleamed, growing larger. The distant highsound of brakes began, as a car decelerated, coming toward the Stop.
It was just an ordinary car, Sam told himself. That other car wasstill hundreds of miles away. But his hands were damp as he watched itgrow larger.
It was an ordinary Talman sedan, with two people in it. It swung intothe Stop's parking area, and its doors slid open smoothly. A small redlight flashed on its arched front. The repair signal. In response thedoors of the Repair shop opened. The Talman waited, as a man and awoman emerged from its padded interior and moved slowly into the Repairshop. The doors closed behind it.
The couple came toward the restaurant, where Sam stood waiting.
"Hi," the man said to Sam.
"Afternoon." Sam moved to the counter. "Something to eat while you'rewaiting, folks?"
The tall, dark girl glanced out at the closed doors of the Repair shop.
"How long's that car going to take?" she asked in a tired voice. "Iwanted to get home tonight."
"Not long," Sam said. "It didn't look like anything complicated."
"How can you tell?" the man asked, sitting down. "It could take allnight."
"Like something to eat while you're waiting?" Sam asked.
The woman stared at the lunch racks critically.
"I never like these places to eat in," the woman said, curling her lip."You never know how long the food's been stored in the robot."
"Oh, hell, Grace," the man said wearily. To Sam he gave an apologeticshrug. "Just coffee."
"Well, you don't know," the woman insisted. "I mean...." She watchedSam drawing the coffee into a cup. "I used to cook a lot, by hand, tillJack had the autokitchen put in. He never had any stomach trouble tillthen. It's getting so everything's ... oh, I don't know. It's all outof reach. You don't know what's happening any more. Like the car."
"I wish I knew what she's talking about half the t