Chapter Text
Cumberland County, NJ, September 2007
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Setting: parking lot near a grocery store. Kat DeLuna's hit summer jam "Whine Up" is playing from one of the two-story, 1920s-era rental houses along the block. A yellow, strikingly modern, hatchback is parked behind it. Inside, a young man with shaggy hair is repeating interview questions endlessly to himself while a 5-year old girl fidgets in the back seat.
"My name is Jesus Garcia Aleman. I'm new here and I'd like to work at your farm. Maybe help out with some traducción."
A voice comes out of the radio. Slightly tinny, but more advanced than the GPS voices of 2007. "Sounds good, bud. You speak English very well. Where did you live before?"
"I thought I was born in Chiapas, but my parents and I lived in California for a couple years and she made sure to teach me English both there and when we got home. When I turned 18, I couldn't find my birth certificate and she says that she thinks she had me in 'Nueva Jersey', a couple months before she married my father. She didn't tell me because she didn't want anyone to know I was the product of an affair and that she was already pregnant when she married my dad. I came here to try to find my real birth certificate and my family. Maybe work and get some money to send home to the family." He silently thought to himself that Bumblebee can come up with a damn convincing cover story if you give them enough time.
"Good work. Are you concerned about the war?"
Flashes of a drone war, him being swept into a semi-autonomous robot car and living out of it, and eventually them adopting an orphan girl briefly consumed his memory. He closed his eyes and shuddered.
"No, not our war. Iraq."
"No, not my problem. México wasn't involved in that war I don't think and they don't have the draft even if I did get my citizenship worked out. What the hell kind of interview question is that?"
"Doesn't count; that's me speaking. I'm just being overly protective, Jay. Next interview question: Do you have a place to live?" The car slightly pitched their voice up after 'question' to indicate that they were once again speaking in the character of another person.
"I'm living out of mi carro for now. 'Til I get my first paycheck then I'll find somewhere to rent." True. He didn't mention that his car and home were actually also his best friend, his romantic partner, his phone charger, and his legal guardian during his last couple years of childhood.
"Last question. What number should I contact you at?"
"867-555-5309." He still had his phone from the old country. Most of the apps no longer worked, but he could still text and make calls, which was enough to function in late-Bush-era New Jersey. As Jay sat in Bumblebee's front seat, he was both nervous and yet completely prepared for the new life that waited ahead.