The rhythmic beating of rain on broken asphalt as it cascades across the ground into runoff, the lush vegetation, twisting roads, allude to something hidden in the dark. Hidden between twisted trees and rocks, the lines in its body filled with dust and grime. The lines still show clear, the distinct shape of a previous past long gone, the days of activity still roar on in a dormant chamber. Cloud cover above clears as the rain stop, rays of light streak through the atmosphere, hitting red paint, faded and a shell of its former glory. Machined metal now retired to a pocket of vegetation, the red trimmed wheels still show, faded. The curved and aggressive body still seems like something from an alternate universe, where automated transport intelligence never took over, becoming hulking bricks of cruising boredom. The light continues getting brighter, the glare shining ever more. Revealing the body of a fastback coupe.Then it reveals two numbers, digits that still seem to be radiating echoes,emblazoned across the door panels in white military font. 86.
What is a Toyota 86 doing here? Why is it abandoned? And in all places, in the middle of an abandoned mountainous road? And on that, where is its owner? It's 20XX, Musk accurately predicted the takeover of electric cars. The world has prevented world climate change, albeit barely. And people who own petrol cars are considered punks.
Foot steps on the gravely surface appear, every second they come nearer. A young looking man clad in a worn out white and black hoodie and jeans appears. Stopping just short of the car, he stares down at the coupe, a grin slowly appears on his face. One of longing, one of triumph, loss, pain. Life has gone full circle. And the seeds will grow much stronger than they ever have.