QotD: If you drive on a parkway why don't they make the whole plane out of that?

You unwrap the piece of gum Jones gave you, put it in your mouth, and ease onto the parkway. Second lane. It takes a few moments to maneuver your way through traffic to the spot. The gum tastes funny, but that’s expected, all things considered. You turn the radio knob all the way to the right. Nothing but static. You chew, sticking tight to the second lane. No way this is going to work.

A scratchy voice comes through the radio. “Mr. Smith?”

You clear your throat. “Yeah?”

“Who sent you, Mr. Smith?”

“Uh, Jones?”

A few moments pass. “Okay, Mr. Smith. If you’ll brake smoothly to a stop and put the car into park, a liaison will be with you shortly.

You look at the traffic buzzing around you, at the sedan behind you and the truck behind him. “Uh, stay in this lane, you mean?”

“That’s right, Mr. Smith. Please start your braking now.”

You take a last nervous look at the sedan, now tailgating you, then put a tentative foot on the brake. Your heart stops as you see the sedan nudge your back bumper.

“Please brake, Mr. Smith.”

The sedan’s nose is now in your trunk. You brake harder and shudder as the sedan passes through you. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s still hard to continue braking as the truck follows the sedan. You come to a complete stop and almost swallow your gum as you see a tractor-trailer in your rearview mirror.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith,” squawks the radio. “One moment, please.”

A wave of nausea strikes as the vehicles around you speed up. You chew vigorously. Thankfully, they have now turned shadowy, which makes it less disconcerting when they pile right through you.

A woman materializes in the passenger seat. At least, her features are vaguely feminine. Her silvery hair is cut short, a nice complement to her glowing skin, which is a pale lilac. Her undefined clothing is one shade darker. She glances at you with a smile. “Take a look, Mr. Smith. You’re purple, too.”

She’s right. “How come?”

She shrugs. “Some sort of Doppler effect. Combination of both the red shift and the blue. Fun, huh?” She brings out a small machine and taps busily. You notice she has six fingers on each hand. “Here we go,” she says after a moment. “I take it Jones explained the nondisclosure agreement?”

“Uh, sure.” Like, who’d believe it anyway?

“You have access to common plastics, glass, cardboard and paper?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Obviously not everyone, or there would be no need to trade.” She taps again. “You’re interested in pressurized minerals?”

“Uh, yeah, if that’s what gems are.”

Tap, tap, tap. “You’re in agreement with the poundage rates Jones explained?”

“Oh sure.”

“And you’re aware that inter-universal trade could change the value of all items traded?”

“Oh yeah.” Someday garbage will be expensive. You bet.

She produces a black disc about the size of a quarter. “Okay, when you’re ready to ship, enclose your items in a plastic bag, put it into the back seat, and attach this to the side of the bag. Flip the switch here to the drive position just before you pull into your driveway. Your package will be replaced with another package, although I cannot guarantee what sort of packaging material will be used with the incoming. Something metallic, though. Remove THAT switch from the incoming package, push the switch back to neutral, like this, until you’re ready to send again. Got that?”

“Okay. Can I use another car?”

“We’ll need to recalibrate for another vehicle, Mr. Smith, and not all vehicles work well. The first calibration is free, but it’s an expensive process and you’ll be charged for the next one. Be sure you contact Jones beforehand.”

“He’s, uh, kind of a hard guy to get hold of.”

“Then you’d better take good care of this vehicle. Anyway, if you want to renegotiate or talk to a liaison for any other reason, you’ll need another piece of gum. Shipping inanimate material is easy, but it’s hard for most living beings to get here on the trading plane and then back to their own in one viable piece. Ready to slide back into sync with your own plane of existence?”

You slip the disc into your pocket. “Guess so.”

“Good. Put the car into drive and accelerate. We’ll slip you back in when you’ve reached normative speed.” She dematerializes.

A few moments later your speedometer reads 67 and you start to believe the other vehicles are real again. Damn. Double damn! You forgot to ask if you had to clean and separate the garbage. Oh, well. The wife does that anyway.