I was in the big store in the local shopping mall, I had taken the back stairs to the top floor because of the big wait for the escalators. I opened the door and found myself not in the top floor of the store, but outside.
There was a balcony running around the top floor like a penthouse. There was some garden furniture, probably used by the staff in their breaktime, I sat down, I must have fallen asleep.
There was a long video explaining why the FM’s advisors and indeed the FM himself should be removed. I woke up, a woman said that I was well done, I blinked, she had disappeared.
I looked down over the parapet, but I recognised nothing. I walked down the stairs and left the store, I recognised nothing. A huge sign appeared, like a cartoon speech bubble, telling me to take the car with the flashing lights in the car park.
I got in, there was no steering wheel, no pedals, no nothing. The door closed and the car moved off. It gathered speed and joined a freeway, I read the road signs, the car was heading along Tronheim Drive down into Big City, with me in it.
The car stopped, a door opened and B got into the car. B kissed me and the car drove off – a scenic tour of Big City. We drove around Parliament Circus twice very slowly, there was so much traffic, we saw the v.ugly Parliament Building in brutal modern style and the v.dainty FM Palace in trinket style.
Every few metres the car stopped, so much traffic, a traffic policeman asked questions: who was the driver and who owned the car and why was there no steering wheel and why was the little girl not in a special child’s safety seat and so on.
I explained that B was not my child and that B wasn’t a child. B got out and entered the FM Palace through a locked side door. The Policeman wrote out some tickets: “This is going to cost you a fortune. What’s your name?”
Before I could answer, I fancied the name M. Mouse, the policeman’s radio commanded him to the FM Palace immediately. B got back into the car, the car drove away, a news video started: “FM Advisor hits head on wall.” Apparently the Advisor, who was not liked by the public, repeatedly hit his head on a wall in the FM Palace and had collapsed: “FM Advisor hits head, dead.”