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"Uh, sir?"
"Yes, agent?"
"Well… it's just… you know about Three Portlands, right sir? All the agents stationed there?"
"Three Portlands is our main responsibility, agent. Stop asking dumb questions."
"Right, but… they've detected something… unusual, sir."
"Do you even know what our acronym stands for? Unusual Incidents Unit?"
"Yes, sir, yes, and—"
"Spit it out already!"
"There's a car, sir."
"What?"
"In Three Portlands."
"A… car? But—"
"Yes, sir, there should be no cars in Three Portlands. But one is there. Right in the middle of the city, sir."
"What the fuck?"

"You know, agent, I thought you were joking when you told me about this."
"I do not joke around, sir."
"A yellow smart car. Whoever managed to get it in here clearly has no style."
"Well, you know what they say about smart cars, sir?"
"Yes? What do they say?"
"That was a question, sir. I do not know what they say about smart cars."
"…alright then. Agent, do you have any witness accounts of how this car arrived here?"
"It appeared in the sky, sir. And then it fell."
"Has anyone checked if there is a Way up there?"
"Yes, sir, and there is not."
"Interesting…"
"Now, uh, sir. Before we start thinking too hard, I believe we should perhaps try and find a way to get this car out."
"It's not doing any harm, is it, agent?"
"Civilian unrest, sir. They don't like cars— except for that food truck down the street."
"There's a food truck here?"
"Yes, sir. They sell very good tacos. It, however, does not move."
"I will take note of that, agent. Now, back to the issue at hand."
"Of course, sir. I think that if we push the car from behind, we could move it over to a Way."
"Push it?"
"Well, we can't call a tow truck."
"Right you are, agent. Hm. You've got me thinking: why are there no cars in Three Portlands?"
"I'm not sure, sir. Perhaps they're worried about infrastructure? Roads are expensive. Plus, it's not like the city is that big anyways…"
"You make good points."
"Of course I do, sir, I always do."
"Let's not inflate that ego too large, agent."
"Just trying to keep a sense of humor, sir."
"Hm. Anyways… let's move this car out of here."
"I hope you're ready to push, sir."
"I've been sitting in an office chair for the past three weeks, agent. What do you think is the answer to your question?"

"Sir, a report came in from Three Portlands, and—"
"Another car?"
"No, sir, they actually caught the one responsible for making the cars."
"Oh?"
"Yes, sir. It was an anartist from Are We Cool Yet? She managed to open her own Way, where she snuck car parts in one-by-one before putting them back together again."
"Was this some kind of symbolistic movement?"
"From our fairly short interview with her, yes. Here's a transcript."
"…why are there so many expungements? Did you use one of the black highlighters on accident?"
"Ah, no sir, they were just a bit too vulgar to include."
"The only words she spoke that aren't expunged are 'cars' and 'motor-oil guzzlers.'"
"Truly the mark of a powerful artistic movement, sir. The interviewing agent said that he almost let out a tear."
"Interesting. Well, agent, this situation is dealt with then, correct?"
"Yes, sir. I just— ah, excuse me, for a moment, I need to take this call."
"No worries."
"Thank you. Hm? You— wait. Slow down. What did you find? Ah. Hm. I'll let him know immediately, yes sir."
"So, what did they find, agent?"
"A, um, gas station, sir."
"Oh lord… This is going to be a lot of work…"
"Yes, I don't think we can just push this one away, like all of our other problems there, sir."
"Right. Well, agent, why don't we—"
"Ah! Apologies, sir, looks like they're calling again. Hm. Okay, and? Oh. Wait, they're… well. Uh, thank you. Yes, I'll let him know."
"What now?"
"A riot, sir."
"Oh God, why?"
"Well, the citizens are worried about infrastructure, sir, becau-"
"Heh. Infrastructure, looks like you were right on point earlier, agent."
"Yes sir, but something else has happened as well."
"Something else?"
"All the bikes in the town, uh, transformed into cars… uh, sir? What's that bottle?"
"Whiskey."
"Ah… can I have some as well?"
"Of course, agent."
"Thank you."
"God, I hate my fucking job."
"Well, sir… we all do."

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