AMCW, 1975
Kadinya gripped the steering wheel in the grip she’d been instructed to use by the technicians on staff, the raspy snarling growl of the prototype’s inline 5 engine setting every nerve on edge with a mix of excitement… and a hint of concern.
She pumped the accelerator twice, feeling the AMCW’s new powerplant responding a little less lethargically than her usual experience with the old Minerva she still drove, pulled the gearbox down into Drive, and then floored the accelerator.
20 km/h. 40. 60. 80. 100 km/h. She knew it was a bit over 12 seconds, but it felt like an eternity while on camera as she piloted the AMCW directly at a concrete wall, engine snarling under the load of shoving the test mule for their latest technology toward the inevitable doom awaiting the vehicle.
There, against the wall, were the previous 4 cars she’d crashed on film, back to back. The fifth joined them with a mighty crunch of steel and a heavy muffled thud as the center of the steering wheel opened up like a popcorn kernel left in the heat, a bag blasting out as it filled rapidly with air from the carefully controlled explosion. A millisecond later, Kadinya’s face slammed into it, decelerating her body safely from 100 km/h.
In the crash, her hands had been knocked away from the wheel, but like the previous four times, her specialized grip - thumbs resting on the rim, not tucked inside it - kept her from breaking anything. She pulled the release handle, shouldered the door open, and stepped out of the crumpled AMCW.
Kadinya walked over to the camera and spoke for the world to hear later, to see later, “You have just witnessed me crash five cars back to back at a speed that could kill even me on the highways of Letara. A speed we all travel at because there is no better option. I was saved each time by three things. The first is AMCW’s dedication to safety. Our next generation of cars have three point seat belts, improved crumple zones, and improved structural integrity of the cabin. The second is that I was doing what we all must start doing, I was wearing my seat belt. The new over-the-shoulder seat belt keeps you in place better in a crash so that you don’t smash your face into the steering wheel. The third technology, in our language, is adaki. Directly translated, it’s an “air vessel.” We are calling it an “air-bag.” It is a supplementary restraint system, designed to inflate instantaneously upon impact and further assist in slowing your body down upon impact. After all…” Kadinya smiled, motioning to the cars before finishing with, “It’s not the speed that kills you. It’s the sudden stop at the end. While driving an AMCW, Kasivah, or Minerva equipped with an air-bag system will require you to learn a new grip on your steering wheel, we assure you, lives will be saved if people use both the seat-belt and the air-bag together.”
Once the cameras were no longer rolling, Kadinya sat down in a chair and set a bag of ice on her forehead. “Please tell me I wasn’t bleeding on camera,” she grumbled.
“No, Kadinya, you were fine. We’re a bit surprised, honestly. John made a hell of a mess when he crashed one of the new “Vyrada” test mules at Lerance the other day and the air-bag mashed his nose,” Nathan said, smiling. “Still, a publicity stunt like that should prove that we put our money behind what we preach. We call out for safer cars, and we provide them.”
“And how is John doing?” Kadinya inquired.
“Other than a bloody nose and wounded pride, he’s fine. Honestly, I think he’s far more annoyed that he wrecked one of our three V6 test mules, and the only one with the “Vyrada” system in place. By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask…”
“Yes, Nathan?”
“What does “Vyrada” mean?” Nathan inquired.
“In my language? It loosely means “Storm.” But I’m using it more literally, so it is “Violent Wind.” That is what it means,” Kadinya said with a vicious feline smile. “But it is also symbolic. With it, we will reenter the market like a vicious sea storm.”