Free Taking the Highway by M.H. Mead Page A

competition.”
    “Bullshit!” Andre blurted. “Did you even check to see if any of them threw a FIT before they died?”
    Bernstein blinked rapidly. “A what?”
    “Like a tantrum?” Madison asked.
    “It’s an acronym, Fourth In Trouble. If one fourth is in a bad situation, the others back him up. Are they in competition? Sure, technically. But nobody has a turf, nobody could hold one if they wanted to. Cars choose fourths, not the other way around.”
    “I’m sorry,” Bernstein said. “You’re hardly an expert on—”
    Andre stood, pulled out his fourthing badge, and tossed it on the table. “I’ve been a working fourth for three years. And I never go begging for a ride. Tell me, Mr. Bernstein, do you know the difference between first rush and second rush? The timing of exodus? Do you know why every ride-share app has failed?”
    Talic and Kosmatka looked at each other and scoffed.
    Andre thought maybe he’d ordered the table wrong. It wasn’t cops versus politicians. It was reasonable people versus idiots. He’d put himself and Sofia on one side. Perhaps Mother Mad too. Talic and Kosmatka could go sit with Iago Bernstein in his ivory tower where theory trumped reality.
    He turned his back on them and helped himself to the taxpayer’s coffee, which was hidden in a thermal pot on the cart in the corner. As soon as he broke the seal, the smell of fresh-brewed wafted into the room. He gestured toward the pretty little cups. “Anyone else . . .? No?” He leaned against the wall and took a sip. “Let me ask you a question, Mr. Bernstein. You’re not from Detroit, are you?”
    “Ah, no.”
    “By the accent, I’d say not even Michigan.”
    “My degree is from Stanford. I’ve lived—”
    “Been here long?” Andre asked. “Do you like it here?”
    “It’s fine. It’s pleasant.”
    “Yes, but do you like it?”
    “I said, it’s fine.”
    Mother Mad pursed her lips, getting ready to separate the unruly children. “It doesn’t matter where Mr. Bernstein is from.”
    “I love this city,” Andre said softly. “I love walking along the riverfront, watching the boats. I love buying my dinner ingredients from the markets in the vertical farms. I love new deco architecture, the way the skyline seems to roll instead of cut. I love apple pie at Autumnland and curry hoagies at Satler’s and the way we open doors for each other and say ‘bless you’ when strangers sneeze.”
    He took a sip of coffee. “All fourths love this city. Those carpools don’t just need us. They want us. Of course there are more of us trying for rides than will ever get one. That’s the beauty. Every fourth wants to improve. Every fourth has to improve. No carpool ever picks up an undesirable rider just to fill the car. Do you honestly think the city would be better off without us? Forget half. If even a quarter of us quit, there won’t be the critical mass of fourths you need to get the carpools onto the highways. There would be unimaginable gridlock on surface streets. Lose half of us and you might as well roll up the sidewalks and turn out the lights.”
    “I resent the implication that I don’t—”
    “Sergeant LaCroix is correct,” Madison said, rolling right over Bernstein. “We need fourths.”
    “As I’ve indicated, preliminary data is still—”
    “Thank you, Mr. Bernstein.” Madison’s arms were folded, her body turned away from him.
    “—inconclusive as to the efficacy of these paid riders.”
    “Yes. Thank you.” She shared a significant glance with Talic.
    Bernstein opened his mouth to say more, but Talic was there first. “Mr. Bernstein.” He held Bernstein’s eye. “Stay or go, but keep your mouth shut.”
    Bernstein’s jaw dropped in surprise. He blinked rapidly but no sound came out.
    “Shut it,” Talic said.
    “I just—”
    “Out.”
    Bernstein paled and gathered himself and the contents of his briefcase with a futile attempt at dignity. Andre enjoyed his discomfort, but