Read Online Brilliant by Denise Roig - Free Book Online Page B

grown wider and taller since Sami picked him up two hours ago. They walk to what could be an entrance. Now that they’re inside Akhdar City, now that they’re past the impressive driveway, it all looks smaller, rougher. Sami sees that they’re actually in a building site, one that hasn’t seen a lot of recent action, judging by the dirt-encrusted Caterpillars standing abandoned like hulking sandcastles. A laminated plaque hangs near what he hopes is a garage for the tiny cars. PRT s, Sami remembers from a newspaper story. Personal Rapid Transport. In the photos they looked like white pods on invisible wheels and barely tall enough for a boy.
    â€œAkhdar City is a modern Arabian city that, like its forerunners, is in tune with its surroundings,” Sami reads aloud from the plaque. “As such, it is a model for sustainable urban development regionally and globally, seeking to be a commercially viable development that delivers the highest quality living and working environment with the lowest possible ecological footprint.” Who do they think they are? scoffs Mohsin.
    But Rashid is looking up at Sami with questions all over his face. “What is forerunners? People who run for something? And footprint? Is that like what the
salukis
leave in the gardens and what makes Baba so mad? And what is eco…you know.”
    Sami doesn’t know. It’s all high talk and big ideas. You’re right there, says Mohsin.
    â€œLet’s go see the cars,” Sami says. He needs to keep them moving, not just because of Rashid’s flickering attention, but because he needs to rub out the thing he now knows. How is he going to look Sir in the eye again?
    A man in a uniform steps out of the shadows. He speaks in rapid Arabic with a heavy Jordanian accent. Rashid grunts. “What?” says Sami, who missed the last bit. “Can we ride in the cars?”
    â€œNo,” says Rashid. “Broke.” And he kicks a stone out of his way with such force Sami winces.
    â€œSir, sir,” Sami calls to the man, who’s walking away. “Could we just look at one of the cars?”
    The man shrugs and points to something off in the distance.
    PRT s, a dozen of them, sit in a row in a glass station. The glass is also covered with sand, though Sami — after three decades as a driver here — knows it could have been washed off only that morning. Sand moves fast. It beats you every time.
    Before Sami can stop him, Rashid makes for the cars. Miraculously, both the door to the station and the door to the first car in line open for him. “Sami!” he waves, and Sami, looking around for the guard, runs over and climbs in. Compact isn’t the word for these things. His knees are in his chest. Rashid, mesmerized, presses a button and the door closes. Without any warning, without any reason, the car beeps and begins to glide out of the station. Gaining speed, it zips across the empty lot, across sand and tumbleweeds, across the land that someday will be home to a city the world has not yet seen. A global hub for renewable energy. A model of sustainable technologies for all nations. That place you live, says Mohsin. It’s not a model for anything.
    Sami is nervous, swivelling back to front. What if the guard realizes they’ve taken the car? What if they hit something, a rock, a tree, a person out here? The sky is starry, but with no streetlights, no real road, they’re rushing into blackness. Madame, he suddenly thinks. My job.
    But Rashid is lit up, his whole body quivering with excitement. “Look, Sami, no hands!” he crows.
    â€œWhat do you need hands for? There’s no steering wheel!” Sami shouts back. The car, which runs on electricity, whines as it careers down what might or might not be a road. Rashid loves it, but Sami can’t imagine most Emiratis putting up with the noise or the cramped space. The PRT will likely go the way of so many other fine