Read Online The Hibernia Strain by Albert Peterson - Free Book Online Page B

box and quickly fire it across the car park and out of sight. The boot snaps closed, and it’s time to hit the road again.
    “Can I drive for a while,” Emma asks, “It might help me get my mind off it all.”
    I give her what she wants after a light hearted but genuine warning about putting a single scratch on my VW.
    A s I switch with Emma and un-tense my back into the leather bucket seat, I realise this is the first time I’ve rested in nearly two days.
    I was neck deep in a job last night, de signing an identity for some nobody start up company, whose idea of a logo brief was, “Give me a unicorn with an exploding galaxy behind it, but keep it simple.”
    Like usual, I was avoiding fatigue with coffee and a few special blends of my own. The days seem to meld together when you’re an insomniac, never sleeping but never really awake. I had to gather my thoughts and make sure I wasn’t dreaming when I got the call from Matt about pale faced weirdoes sucking the blood from unsuspecting taxi drivers.
    I’m still making my mind up about how real any of this actually is, although Emma has far too many clothes on for this to be a dream of mine.
     
    Once we’ve been driving for a while, Emma starts to talk, opening up and telling me a bit about herself. I’ve no real intension of listening, but I don’t see this as a reason to stop her now that she seems to be on a roll.
    I lean my forehead against the passenger window and stare out into the distance. I’m noticing the bright, fresh greenness of the Irish countryside turning into an unsettling version of itself, as we pass what can only be described as an endless string of victimless accidents. There’s plenty of blood, and I think I even spot limb or two as we speed past, but no bodies.
    From what I’m witnessing, it’s hard to interpret what events could have led to this carnage but there’s no doubt they were bad.
    My mind starts to wander, drifting as close to sleep as I usually get. As we drive down this stretch of road; this twisted version of what would yesterday have been a mundane commute for hundreds of people going through the motions of their normal everyday lives, I consider the chaos that’s going on everywhere. With this apparent self-destruction of society I have to wonder if this is now the new normal , the next inevitable evolution of society. Is this the new everyday world we’re gonna be faced with from now on?
    The realisation of this possibility leads me to further ponder as to whether this world of entropy and random violence, where we ’re forced to live on reaction alone really makes any less sense to me than the everyday life of nine to five. A life where people collect their dog’s shit in the street and smile every morning to people they can’t stand. A world where everything everyone says is coded to such a degree by social convention and political correctness that they’re not even sure what they’re saying themselves. Yeah, I think I’ll fit in about as well in this new world as I did in the last. Roll on Society 2.0 .
    I waft back to reality and to the realisation that my thoughts are becoming less than rational. I’ve rarely been in a worse state than this before, and I can’t afford to be in anything but top form in this situation. I need time to rest properly and to eat something more substantial than the cold slice of pizza I ate for breakfast yesterday.
    I can ’t tell if it’s been hours or minutes since we left the supermarket, but I notice that the previously chaotic scenes outside my window have taken a more structured, sinister complexion. We’re now encountering wreck after wreck of head on collisions, as if people were intentionally ramming each other off the road.
    I ’m also suddenly aware of the reason for my return to reality, the background noise of Emma’s life story or whatever has ended. I look over at her wondering if she finally said something that required a response of some kind from me, only