“Why do you call it a school truck? Everyone calls it a school bus.”
“Because a truck has more sovereignty than a bus. A bus is for loading and unloading. For the unruly and ill-timed. A truck has more authority. A truck means business. This goes places. This is a school truck.”
“Soveren-what?”
“Sit back.”
“Are there any buttons I can push?”
“There’s one at the very back you can push.”
Marvin’s eyes lit up. “Where?”
“At the very back. Under the seat. Go look and push it.”
“Okay!” Marvin got up and ran to the back of the bus. The sound of the screaming children was a joyous respite. Lawrence turned off Maine and headed down Ubik. The ride was smooth and quick. All residential. No traffic, no potholes, minimal pedestrians. This route could be good. Then Marvin came thundering back to the front. He stood beside Lawrence.
“Mr. Mountaingale!”
“Sit down, Marvin. Sit down right now.”
Marvin quickly sat down on the edge of seat.
“I pushed the button!”
“You what?”
“I pushed the button!”
“What button?”
“The one at the back under the seat! The one you told me to push!”
“You found a button?”
“Well it was more of a pull-thing. But I pulled it like you said.”
“I never told you to pull anything! What happened?”
“Well the seat kind of fell back. I think it’s broken now.”
“You broke the seat??”
“And Lisa is crying now. She was sitting on it.”
“Is she alright!?”
“I can steer for you while you go check?”
“Sit back, Marvin. And don’t move any more. Just sit there.”
“This is Ubik and 55th coming up. Make sure you don’t miss it.”
“I am aware, Marvin.”