Should have taken warning, it's just… People ignoring. — The Fixx

 

Passe. The name of the vehicle, they eventually decided, was Passe. It was a compromise, but it fit the little car.

 

The old EV zipped east down I-80. Her high beams cut through the black of night, reflecting off the mile markers just before they whooshed behind the car as she sped down the empty freeway.

 

Cassandra brushed a wisp of plain brown hair behind her ear as she leaned back in the passenger seat, watching the rhythmic flash-fade with half-closed eyes. The playlist switched to a new song: soft synth-pop beats and a haunting “oh oh oh ohohohoh oh” set to low volume. The road trance of long, bland travel settled in.

 

She felt tired, exhausted from Rory’s constant gibes and complaints about her old-fashioned lifestyle. His obsession with the newest tech and how he could hack it had a boyish charm about it, usually.

 

The performative sounds of Rory trying to get comfortable in the driver’s seat invaded her peace. “Cassy!” he exclaimed after bumping his knee a second time. “You should have had this steering wheel removed!”

 

“I gave you first choice of seating back in Winnemucca,” she murmured.

 

“Pfft” Rory mocked. “Self-drive works better than any human. Stupid P.O.S.” He gestured at the dashboard. Its display flickered, catching her eye.

“Passe,” she corrected him.

 

—  EEEee EEEee —  The alarm blasted over the music. A red hand icon flashed on the display. Cassandra sat up.

 

“Pfft, whatever. It— ”

The car jerked. “Oh God!” he yelped, fighting the shove of inertia from the car’s rapid deceleration. The steering wheel spun as the self-drive disengaged, catching the tips of his fingers. He cried out.

 

Cassandra shoved him back, grabbing the wheel. She gently coaxed the car to the shoulder as it slowed. They came to a stop. She pushed the ignition switch. Silence filled the interior for a few heartbeats.

 

She watched him suck on his bruised fingers, taking a moment to slow her breathing.

 

“This is why…” she began, indicating the dash and its display: black. Her words trailed off as a red glow filled the horizon, casting their shadows across the console.

 

The mountains to the west were sharply silhouetted by a blaze of crimson aurora, bright violet tendrils reaching for the zenith of the night sky.

“Uooah,” Rory gasped through his finger-stuffed lips, turning to see the source of light. “That’s pretty.”

 

He got out of the car. “Or ominous.”

 

His phone clicked, taking a pic.

 

Cassandra also got out to look at the aurora and shivered from the sharp rush of cold. He took another picture and clucked, bringing the phone closer to his face. Concern etched across it.

 

“What’s wrong?” Cassandra asked, leaning over the roof.

 

“My battery. It’s draining. Fast.” He flashed the phone screen towards her.

 

“Mmm.” She shook her head, retrieving her own phone.

 

“I’m putting it in airplane mode,” he told her as he scrolled down the notification screen. “Hopefully, that’ll save the battery.”

 

“I wish I had bought that C.B. radio kit,” she mused, putting her own phone to sleep.

 

“Luddite.”

 

Rory’s scoff lacked its typical edge. Cassandra looked at her little brother, choosing not to respond to his quip, watching him slip his phone back into his pocket. He put his glasses on and eyed the sky. The crimson blaze was fading to let the stars shine again.

 

“What do we do?”

 

“What we were doing, mostly. Let’s head to Wells and see how bad things really are.” She shut the car door to more easily make her way around to the driver’s side. He realized she meant to take the helm — literally — and moved in the opposite direction for the passenger seat, grumbling all the way.

 

“I checked the weather on my app before we left.” His gaze flickered to the side mirror’s reflection of the now black horizon. “There were speculations; warnings in the news cycle, but they were sensationalism, clickbait. Like the typical Asteroid (or solar flare, or whatever) will destroy the Earth headline."

Cassandra’s seatbelt clicked, and she regarded him. “Weather apps don’t usually bother with astronomical events.” She shrugged.

 

“That changes after today!” He retrieved his phone and checked the battery. Its previous drain had been successfully stopped in airplane mode. He opened one of his coding apps.

 

Cassandra cast him a side-eye of surprise, then smiled as she pushed the car’s ignition on. “You tech head.”

 

“You Luddite.” He smiled back.