Invasion of the Energy Matchers

The car is at a halt. Music at plays at a low volume.

“You know these are motion controlled, right? So like, at this time of night, the closer you get, it’ll read that movement and it’ll turn green.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Girl. Try it. There ain’t no cars around.”
“How long have you been wanting to say this to me?”
“Try it and see what happens.”
“I’ve never seen that before. And I’m not about to get pulled over, especially out here.”
“I’m telling you. Most stoplights are like this… just try it.”

They had been waiting there for almost a minute and the light was stuck on RED. Dana lets off the brake, inching her car forward into the empty intersection.

“See? Nothing.”
“Keep going.”

She inches forward a couple more feet, nearly past the crosswalk. It’s still red.

“This is dumb.”

A few more feet into the intersection. Just as she’s nearly half way through, the light CLICKS to GREEN and Quadrell, the stoplight specialist sitting in the passenger seat, throws his head back in laughter. Dana blushes a bit.

“See, I told you, girl. You just have to tell it what you want to do. It’ll listen. Impose your will, D!”

Dana makes a quick right onto a main artery. There aren’t many cars in sight—it’s freakishly late—but she could tell there were more people in this area than the empty intersection from before.

“I think the light was just turning green when it was supposed to.”
“Think about it, though. Why would they waste resources and manpower on a light scheduling system if you could just power it yourself?”

Quadrell puts his finger to his temple, a self-aware attempt at mimicking that one meme.

“I do think about that. Like, all the time. But I also just think that the city isn’t really that thoughtful. Why would it cost less to have motion sensors installed? Feels like it’d be more.”
“Yeah, but I live in a different part of town. They do that kind of stuff out here.”
“Oh, I know you do. You know how I know? I’m the one driving out here every night.”

Quadrell ingests, then processes, the tone coming from his driver.

“Oh damn. You know what, my bad, D…”

Quadrell reaches across to the driver’s seat for a one-way hug from the side, while continuing.

“… and I appreciate you for it! You’re a real one! But I’m just saying. If you gonna drive me all the way out here every night after work, we might as well make it a little fun.”

Dana doesn't reciprocate, and they sit in silence.

The car has picked up considerable speed down this main street, but a quarter mile ahead we can see a traffic light begin to cycle to YELLOW, and then finally to RED. Dana brings the car to a stop, well short of the crosswalk line, her preferred position.

After a moment, Dana breaks the silence:

“You’re saying it works on these stoplights, too?”
“Feel free to try it again, girl. I’m not gonna push.”
“I don’t know. This is kind of a big street. I think I’ma just stay put.”
“It’s up to you.”
“Ehhh.”

Dana lets go of the brake, inching out slightly. But before she can get far enough, another car pulls up to the intersection in the perpendicular street. Dana stops. It’s a beige Altima, circa early-2000s. It also stops.

“Why aren’t they going?”, Dana asks.
“Lmao I’m not sure.”
“Is the light broken?”
“It could be. But they probably saw you about to go.”

Dana inches forward the tiniest bit to catch a glimmer of the perpendicular stoplight, confirming what she suspected.

“See, look. The light is green. I knew it.”
“Hmmm, yeah. Then what the fuck are they doing?”

Dana inches out just a couple feet and then brakes HARD, as if to passive-aggressively gesture to the other car “you go”—but—so does the perpendicular Altima. Both cars inch forward and herky jerk brake at each other in unison. It’s an awkward looking exchange from afar.

Quadrell reaches across to the driver’s side again, but this time he honks the horn.

BNNNRNK!

“What are you doing?” Dana protests.
“Listen. Somebody had to.”

There’s a pause. Then, the Altima honks back, but still doesn’t move. BNRNK!

“Okay. Now that is weird as hell.” Quadrell offers.

Looking up, the glimmer of green light Dana can see from the perpendicular light goes YELLOW for a short time, and then RED. The other car stays put.

Dana’s own stoplight moves from RED to GREEN and she trudges forward, driving through the intersection… when Quadrell SCREAMS:

“Go go go!! The fuck!!”

Dana turns her head: The Altima is moving at a moderate speed straight for the passenger’s side of Dana’s car, disobeying their red light. She slams on the gas, pulling away as the other car just narrowly misses her rear end.

She comes to a screeching halt, stopping her car just on the other side of the intersection, breathing heavily.

“What the fuck is going on??” she asks.
“I don’t know but… they stopped, too. Just go, just go!”

Dana pulls off even faster. In the rear view, she can see the Altima is now speeding off down the perpendicular street, away from them.

“Tf is going on, tonight? They on them hard drugs out here, I see”, Quadrell snaps, as they float away from that intersection.

Dana drives nervously through a few more stoplights down this main artery until another RED light materializes.

There are several cars waiting to go in the perpendicular cross-street and they pass through the intersection as Dana reaches her stopping point. She decides it best to stop about 10 feet short this time.

One of the cars, a black Acura with tinted windows, slows to a halt in the middle of the intersection, signal blinking, waiting to turn left. A dark red Hyundai, also tinted, is coming at the intersection from the opposite direction—the last car for the Acura to yield to—but it STOPS just short of the Acura. Dana and Quadrell watch carefully.

After a beat, the red Hyundai cracks open it’s window and the hand of a lady, adorned with rings, pops out. It waves the black Acura through—on some “you got it”. The hand slips back into the vehicle, and the window rolls back up.

The Black Acura then cracks its window open, and a male hand pops out, wearing a Rolex. It waves the Red Hyundai through—on some “come on.”

Red Hyundai, hand emerging from the window again: waves more vigorously now, imploring the Black Acura to turn left. She’s being nice.

Black Acura, responding: pops a hand out again and waves impatiently for the Red Hyundai to please just go.

Red doesn't budge, waves Black through again. Black car, holding firm, waves Red through.

This continues back-and-forth several times, and before long, the perpendicular light expires back to RED. Dana’s light turns GREEN and over the sound of humming engines in the intersection, the two cars sit in the middle of the intersection continuously waving, imploring each other to….

“JUST GO!!!” yells Quadrell from the passenger’s seat, out of frustration. Like a spectator at a sports game.

“I don’t know what to do here.” Dana confesses.
“Oh my god. Just. GO!!!” yells Quadrell at the two cars again, but this time he reaches for the horn again. Dana blocks his hand.
“No. Let them figure it out.”
“D, come on. They on some bullshit.”

Still, the two cars are stuck in the middle of intersection, hands poking out of the windows, wrists twirling at each other, stuck on an eternal loop. Above them, Dana’s light is GREEN as can be. Neither of the two cars budge, until the woman in the Red Hyundai opens her door and gets out. She is tall, slender, wearing heels and dripping with confidence. She stands directly in front of the black Acura, puts one hand on her hip and cocks her arm behind her head and does a full-range of motion WAVE THROUGH.

“What the hell?” remarks Dana.

The black Acura’s car door swings open and out comes a tall, handsome, muscular man with a fresh fade, wearing a tight black t-shirt and a chain laid over it. He walks directly up to the lady, stands a foot from her face and raises his hand above his head. He then swings his arm through, executing his own husky rendition of a wave through.

Quadrell, on cue:

“The fuck is this shit?”

Quadrell manages to strike Dana’s car horn again and a loud BNRRRRNK lets off. The two motorists in the middle of the intersection remain locked into their duel of politeness. Zoomed out, the scene is quite unusual: two cars parked the middle of an intersection, doors ajar beneath a green light while Dana’s car, waits for this unorthodox blockade to dissipate. Only, at this moment, the light above her flicks to YELLOW.

“You know what… I need to get home. I don’t got time for this bullsh—” Quadrell says as he reaches for the door handle, ready to get out.

But Dana reacts quickly. She CLICKS the automatic door lock, binding in Quadrell. She slams her foot on the pedal, accelerating abruptly. She drives forward, veering AROUND the two dueling cars, smacking the curb HARD in the process. As she makes it to the other side, the light just cycles to RED.

Through the rearview, we can see the two drivers continuing their dueling traffic cop impression, but they grow smaller and smaller in size as Dana zooms off down the artery, visibly frustrated.

She turns her music up and lo-fi R&B sounds fill the car as…

---

Dana and Quadrell drive, without talking, for another couple miles past dark department stores and empty parking lots. Barely anything is open for business.

They stop at yet another red light. Thankfully, there are zero other cars in sight.

“You can say you hate my part of town. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Well, what is it? Don’t kill me with this silence, D!”
“I’m just tired. This week has been hell. And this shift Dekario has us working, well, I think I wanna pick up something earlier. So I might ask him to switch to something else next week.”
“Oh no! You leaving me?? You know this the only shift I can do!”
“Q.”
“I’m sor—you’re right. You gotta do what’s best for you, girl.”
“I mean, you being there? That’s the only thing that makes the shift bearable. But right now it’s just too much. I need a whole reset. Maybe the earlier shift will help.”

The car hums along, quietly churning down another stretch of road.

“Well, you know that I love you… And I’m grateful for you.”

Dana, content most of the trip to keep her head forward, looks to Quadrell’s sincerity sitting passenger. She fixes her face to give him a small smile.

“I know. This ain’t got nothing to do with that. This is just some stuff I been feeling for awhile.”

Quadrell lets this marinate for only a short moment.

“Good, bitch! Because we turning up for the rest of this week then!”

Quadrell swipes at the volume knob and the music that was slow-cooking in the background is turned UP to a million degrees. He dances in his seat in while Dana can’t help but grin.

---

Dana pulls into a gas station, stopping at a pump to refill.

As soon as she puts the car in park, Quadrell lands his hand on Dana’s shoulder:

“Girl, I’m about to buy you a snack. For all your troubles. What you want?”
“Idk, something sweet.”

Quadrell gets out and light jogs into the mini-mart.

Dana pays at the pump, plucks the nozzle and sets it to auto fill. She sits down in the driver’s seat, with the door ajar, one foot hanging out. She deep sighs, and then she pulls out her phone and begins scrolling.

Close in on the phone: she cascades down a social media feed past a few still photos, and a couple ads and lands on a video of two women podcasting across a table:

“You not gonna come over to my house and tell me how to clean my kitchen! That’s just out of the question.”
“I know that's right. Is that what you said to her?”
“No. Why would I explain myself again after I told you the last time? Is my name Wikiamber? What’s the use? You are who you are, sweetie. I’ll do me.”
“Mmmmhmm. I feel you on that.”

A logo pops up and the video loops, repeating this exchange, so Dana keeps scrolling, past a few more still photos, stopping on another video: shaky footage of a backstage scene at a concert, an entourage circles around two sweaty male artists, post-performance:

“Bro, you really did that shit.”
“Hellll nah, nigga! This is all you. You bet on yourself, bro.”
“I couldn’t do this shit without you though, man. Thank you for being a part of it.”
“Yes! Yes, you could have. Man, stop it! Come on! A win for you is a win for me, bro.”
“I’m only here because of your influence. Wouldn’t have made sense to do it without you.”
“Man, come on. What are you talking about?? You’re a legend in your own right!”
“Okay okay, a legend calling another nigga a legend. I see what’s going on here.”

The entire entourage around the both of them howls with laughter.

“Let’s just say that we did this shit togeth—”

Behind Dana, the nozzle CLICKS. She powers her phone off, returns the nozzle to the pump, declines a receipt and gets back in the car, closing the door. Through the windshield she can see that Quadrell has struck up conversation with the cashier inside the Mini-Mart.

“Q. It is time to go.” she murmurs to herself.

Another beat. She sees Quadrell leaning in, deepening his interest. Her concern grows.

“Come on, Q.”

Dana pulls her phone out again, but then hesitates. She throws the phone back in her pocket, and hops out.

---

The mini-mart contains your usual junk food fare with plexiglass encasing the cashier. The bell above the door PINGS as Dana steps inside.

“Period! You heard me. And you know exactly what the fuck I was trying to say!” says Quadrell to the cashier, nearly screaming. The cashier is a bald semi-oldhead, with somewhat dead eyes, in his mid 40s with a full beard.

Dana holds the door open, doing her best to not step too far into the establishment:

“Q.”

Quadrell doesn’t even see or hear Dana. He is fixated.

“Q. We gotta go.”

The cashier steps out of the booth, and walks towards Quadrell, getting all up in his face.

“So, lemme get this straight…”
“Get it straight then.”
“You saw me nod my head and you still here?”
“Boy, stop playing with me. Get on with it.”
“Get on with what? Why the fuck are you still here?”
“Because I can be. And I’m still waiting for your response.”

Dana, confused at the contents of the back and forth, looks on.

“You told me my beard was nice. That’s all you said.”
“That’s exactly right.”

A slight pause, as the two individuals are mere feet from each other’s face.

“So… what the fuck do you want me to say to that?”
“You can say thank you.”
“I’m not saying thank you. That’s just your opinion. I’m not thanking you for your opinion.”
“You can say thank you.”
“I’m not saying thank you! That’s just your opinion.”
“Sir, you can say thank you.”
“I’m NOT going to say thank you.”

Dana finds a pause in the conversation to beckon her friend:

“Q. It’s late! Come on.”

Quadrell, as if moving on a grid, turns 90 degrees to his friend:

“Come on? Look at you! Miss Angry al of a sudden.”

Dana shouts at the top of her lungs:

“I’m waiting on YOU, Q!”

Quadrell, almost immediately, screams back:

“Well, you gonna have to hold the FUCK up then!!”

Dana shrinks hard, taken all the way back. In her eyes is the look of fear, as she wasn’t expecting that kind rebuttal.

Quadrell about-faces from Dana and rockets right back into his exchange with the cashier.

“So. Are you going to accept my compliment?”
“Are you going to keep asking?”
“Please say thank you.”
“I’m not going to say thank you.”
“Please say thank you.”
“No thank you. I’m not going to say thank you.”
“You almost had it. But try again.”
“No.”
“Sir, I really like your beard.”
“Okay, cool. Have a nice day.”
“No, I will not have a nice day. Not until I get my thank you.”
“You not gonna get a thank you.”
“Please give me my thank you.”
“You’re not going to get a thank you.”
“Take the compliment.”
“No, take your candy and go. Your friend is waiting for you.”
“Here, I’m giving it all back. Now just give me thank you. That’s all I want.”

Quadrell walks over to the counter and slams the package of mini-donuts and peach rings back onto it.

The cashier jogs back around, ca-chings open the register, and slams a couple bills right next to the sweets.

“There, you can have that back then.”
“I don’t want that. I want my thank you.”
“You not getting a thank you.”
“Fine. I’ll take my candy back then.”

Right then-and-there Quadrell opens the pack of mini-donuts and starts stuffing his mouth with them.

Dana, fed up, shouts over the commotion:

“What the fuck is going on??”

In eerie unison, the two debaters turn to Dana and yell with wide eyes and fingers pointed:

“YOU TELL ME!!!”

Quadrell, mouth full of powdered donut, empties most of it onto the ground in front of him as he yells. The cashier stands, finger pointed, through the haze of the plexiglass.

“What the hell… Y’all look crazy as fuck, and I’m trying to get the fuck home!”

In unison and pointing again:

“YOU GOT LEGS, DON’T YOU?!?”

Dana, shaken, takes that as a sign.

“Alright. Fuck this. Q, you can find your own way home.”

Dana storms out of the mini-mart and straight for her car.

Sitting down in the vehicle—fuming—she watches on for another moment as Quadrell and the cashier continue their back and forth.

She slams the transmission into drive and pulls out of the gas station driving off into the night, back down the main artery.