“I was promised a flying car.”

My gritted teeth and the metal roll-cage interfered with the complaint registering.

“Tube attendants, please prepare for cross-check and launch.” The mechanical voice detachedly droned; a string strung between the future and the past.

“Sir,” the attendant leaned down to answer me, “Unfortunately, this is the best we can do at this time.”

“I was promised a flying car,” I sneered, tearing into the complimentary bag of hermetically-sealed edamame.

“On behalf of Sub-sonic Pneumatic Energy Workers everywhere, please accept my apologies.”

“Rejected!”

“Thank you for traveling into the future.”

[This was their catchphrase]

He stalked off down the cylindrical corridor of the vacuum-fresh tin can car.

“I was promised a flying car!”

“Are you going to eat those?”

“No. Have them.”

“It doesn’t suck so bad,” my companion offered in exchange for my salty snacks.

“It’s a pneumatic tube train,” I explained. “It’s built on suction.”

He just laughed.

“I was promised a flying car.”