Some days Spellcheck is your best friend, and other days it's just no help at all. I just looked up the definition of rook to see where it came from, and apparently it did used to be called a tower; but "the term castle is considered informal, incorrect, or old-fashioned".
Yeah, and it's better on some programs than others. Everything about Chess is old-fashioned.
“Oh, that’s great.” I said, twiddling my thumbs. I shifted my weight from one foot to other. “You’re sure we don’t have to actually, you know, go get it from the parking pad?”
A hovercar whizzed in next to us. She opened the door. “Not necessary.”
“Oh wow.” I said. “I really should’ve seen this coming.”
“Where’d you come from? The past?” She motioned for me to climb in.
I slid myself into the seat, scooting over so that, unfortunately, she could sit next to me. “No, we totally had self-driving hovercars. And invisible doors, buildings with forty-three floors and a stupid mandatory physical gambit.”
“Where are you from?” She reiterated an earlier question, sliding in next to me.
“The past.” I said.
“Okay, here’s a more literal question. Where am I dropping you off at?”
“Y’know the upscale apartments by the Creamer?” I asked, using the one landmark I remembered.
Luckily, she did. “You live there?”
“Yep, I sleep in the vats of milk.”
“Why won’t you answer any of my questions?” She asked.
“Answers are valuable. If you knew too many, it could be dangerous.” The car smoothly lifted off the ground, the only sound a slight murmur. This was an advanced model. “This your car?”
“Yes. Well, I mean, the parents bought it for me, but it’s my name on the deed.” She said.
My interest kind of died. I needed to concentrate on staying alive. Like staring down the traffic actually helped. “Very nice.”
“Have you been given a game ranking yet?”
“I ain’t been given nothing but a headache and bruises.” I said, my eyes still on the other vehicles.
“All players are rated on a scale of ten according to their statistics and individual performances. I was originally drafted as a five, but I ranked up last week.”
“Congratulations,” I said, and she knew I didn’t mean it.
“You’ll probably be a…what…eight?” She gave me a one-over that made my uncomfortableness meter spike.
I snorted. “Why does everybody keep assuming I’m good at sports.”
“You’re tall, of athletic build and look like you were raised in and on sewer.”
“Oh wow, thanks.” I rolled my eyes.
The car decelerated, and started setting us down. “We’re here. Which one are you in?”
“Put me down here, I’ll walk.”
“Like bricks I am.”
“I’ll jump out of this thing, or so help me.” I threatened.
She gave me a resigned look. “You’re a difficult person.”
“I have a permit for that.” I said, as we set down. I grabbed the handle, and was about to throw myself out and down the street, but then I remembered my manners. “Hey, thanks.”
“Oh, no worries. I get paid for this.”
I left without further comment.
I'm still unsure how to feel about this girl....first impression I don't like her...but I'm wondering if she's a sheep in wolf's clothing... >.>
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