In a run down block based in one of the less desirable corners of the city, it's Monday morning. A garbage truck drives along, slowly moving its only arm, and dumping the undesirable objects of today's hygienic society into its metallic shell. A teenager walks down the sidewalk, kicking along a can for mild amusement. He walks past an apartment complex, and inside one of the many rooms, a digital alarm clock sits on a dresser, its glowing red numbers staring at the opposite wall...
6:57am
The morning sun seeps through the cracks between the blinds, and onto the eyelids of the sleeping Scott Delbango, trying to gain entrance. He rolls over and retreats his head under the safety of a pillow.
6:58am
Music softly plays from a lone set of headphones left on the floor. Light entertainment from a lonely Sunday night. The Stereo could never be replaced by a group of people locked in a house together.
6:59am
The space surrounding the bed is cluttered up. Takeaway containers and CD cases litter the floor and desk. A computer monitor blips as it displays the progress of a large download of files.
7:00am
Go time.
The death-staring red numbers start to flash as its speaker counterpart starts to pound out electronic buzzes loud enough to wake the dead.
"Dammit, shut up..." moans the lump under the sheets
Close enough.
A hand reaches out from under the blankets and reaches blindly for the snooze button.
Click.
The radio starts playing.
Mission Failed.
Slowly, the mountain of fabric begins to crumble and Delbango is reborn. He reaches out for the power cord and jerks it out, taking the stereo's life along with it. Not caring, He starts looking around for something edible. On the desk, Half a slice of pizza: still mildly warm. Scott thankfully shoves the food into his mouth.
A Winner is him.
Then, a beep.
He quickly turns around to have another go at the alarm clock, but then notices a flashing light coming from his mobile phone.
And he thought he hadn't paid his bills.
With a press of a button, a short text message appears:
"Last Chance, Delbango"
Suddenly a long lost thought weeded itself out of the back of his mind. He had been late to work numerous times in the past month, and if he did it again, there wouldn't be a job to be late to anymore.
Thank God for technology.
His shift started at 7:30am. Quickly, he looks at his heap of alarm clock. No help there. Where could more timekeeping devices be? He turns and pushes the mountain of plastic off his desk, and hits the jackpot, finding his wristwatch.
7:21am
Panic in the streets.
Delbango quickly grabs a moderately clean pair of pants and bolts out the door.
People suggest that you let an old car warm up a bit before you get it moving. But with Scott's 1978 Holden Torana, He didn't really care, and with his keys already in the ignition, he gets it moving in record time.
7:22am
Scott quickly makes his way out of his quiet little corner of the city and soon gets to the edge of the busy metropolis, challenging every traffic light that dares to turn yellow on him. He makes a turn onto the freeway, and grins at the sight of no cars to be seen. He slams his foot on the accelerator and powers down the asphalt plain. The speedometer pin steadily rises.
90 km/h
95 km/h
100 km/h
110 km/h
As he climbs up a small hill and reaches the top, his jaw drops. Cars lined the 4 lanes like a grid, bumper to bumper. Scott slams the brakes. With a loud screech the once glorious pin falls back towards its lowly resting-place.
90 km/h
40 km/h
10 km/h
0 km/h
We have hit rock bottom.
The heap of heated metal screeches to a stop. Delbango slides out the window and hoists himself onto the roof of his car, to see what was happening. The jam went on for miles and miles.
"Some moron crashed his petrol tanker into the toll booths" yells a voice from one of the cars "We have to stay put until the fire brigade arrives and seals the thing off so it doesn't explode"
Scott looks at his watch.
7:28am
He starts to panic, and his instincts kick in. Scott slides back into the driver's seat and drives onto the opposite side of the freeway. There were considerably fewer cars so he would have an easy time dodging oncoming traffic. He roared down the road as spectators on top of their cars watched in awe. Scott smiles to himself. As he swerves away from the path of a semi-trailer. But then sirens join the sound of his roaring engine as he looks into his rear view mirror, to find a trio of police cars chasing him. His side of the freeway was now empty, with a police block up ahead. He glances at his watch.
7:31am
Operation: Get to Work, Unsuccessful
Delbango could have pulled over. Save himself from getting into more trouble than he was already. But Scott knew he had only one point left on his license, and he wasn't about to lose more than his job. The police block got closer and closer.
Inside his head, his Instinct and Reason were battling it out. Reason got a few good hits in, but Instinct was triumphing, dodging Reason's attempted blows and then brutally pummeled reason to the floor. Instinct wins.
Scott switchs his high beams on and slams his foot on the accelerator. The officers scatter from the police block as he brakes through the yellow barriers and tears through a small gap between the patrol cars. He looks back out his window at his achievement.
Death will commence in five, four...
He laughs to himself and puts his hand up and waves to the amazed onlookers on the opposite side of the freeway.
Three, two...
His attention turns back to where he's going and notices that he's heading straight for the overturned petrol tanker at 130km/h
