Studies in Quantum Xenoanthropology, Ep. 6: We got a problem.
As Ford handed over the wheel to Arthur after a few hours of concentrated (and mostly silent) driving, Arthur rather started to roll more along than attacking the stage with gusto, despite the stage being quite well suited to the 4x4 Kanyon, and Ford having enjoyed his time behind the wheel, as usual.
“So you are trying to lose places the traditional way, despite not knowing exactly how much time we need to lose or whether we need to do that at all?”, Ford wondered.
“We might not have official timing, and only estimations by our AI - but I trust them…” Typing noises made Arthur and Ford take a quick glance at the centre view screen.
“… and it’s the only information we have”, Arthur concluded. The green letters vanished immediately.
“So, we might be up there with the leading pack, we won a few stages early on, so…?”, began Ford, but Arthur interrupted.
“Ford, you are forgetting the Prime Tenet of Quantumxenoanthropology: No interference…”
“… No records.” Ford joined Arthur in saying the last part, finishing it simultaneously. “And if we happen to win, or be on the podium, then there will be a record, albeit a small one…”
Arthur shot a warning glance at Ford.
“So why don’t we just disappear? We can just relocate to our quantum reality and noone would be the wiser…”
In the distance, a faint but consistent engine noise became audible.
“First, we’d cause quite a stir if we are suddenly absent from the next camp without having signed out with the organisers”, Arthur started. “That’s called a pertubatio in absentia. And second, we might miss out on a substantial chunk of data - everyone’s behaviour during and after the victory ceremony… the ‘party’ as it will be called, no doubt. So we have to be there, just not be a part of it, as usual.”
“And rarely can you gain more elucidating behavioural insights than in a rapid shift of environmental circumstances”, cited Ford from a standard xenoanthropology textbook. “The victory party probably will indeed count for that”, he mumbled.
The engine noise in the distance became louder. Ford’s expertise over the last days had grown so that he could readily identify the engine as an inline-6.
“See? And we can’t just ask the organisers to score us badly because they would ask all sorts of questions”, Arthur continued.
“Can’t we just… adjust… their records?” As on cue, the Kanyon was slightly shaken by a blue-ish car which wanted to get past the dawdling Mara just at the right time to emphasise certain words in Ford’s question.
“I rather not dare use quantum manipulation on their stuff. First, that would be interference…” - another hit by the blue estate car that now filled their rear view mirrors - “… And second, I don’t even bloody know where they keep the records!” Arthur began to be slightly agitated. The road was too narrow to let the blue nuisance pass so he hoped that its drivers would just get bored at some point.
“How about faking a defect?”
Arthur shook his head, aided by the third less than gentle nudge from behind. “Someone might stop to help us, and then nothing is wrong after all. And, as you can see, there is not even space here to safely STOP!” A fourth shudder rocked the Kanyon. “So, we are going to simply lose time, and we have to do it the traditional way.” More typing noises emanated from the centre console.
Arthur barely had time to read the newly appeared green letters as a fifth hit from behind made him yank the wheel to keep the Kanyon straight on the narrow road. “SCREW IT”, he shouted and put the pedal to the metal (in the absence of interior luxuries such as carpeted floors) in order to escape the
Dunav 3300 behind them.
The Kanyon’s superior traction indeed managed to leave their pursuers in the dust after a short while, and Ford silently wondered when the normally unflappable Arthur would sufficiently calm down to heed his own words, uttered only a very short time ago…