There’s a new arrival or visitor in my neighborhood. And it’s from outer space. It certainly isn’t from this world, where aerodynamic plastic-clad fish-mobiles with bulging eyes and wavy sides noiselessly swim the streets. No, this burbling extra-terrestrial visitor, still covered in space-dust, is clearly from another world, and there’s little doubt that its home planet is not round, but square. How else to account for its shape?
Presumably, its body makers have not yet discovered the curve. Straight edges are obviously all that’s available to the designers from planet Box. Keeps things simple. Maybe they just outsource their design work to kids in elementary school. Gives meaning to the concept of “three box car”. But they could do worse.
I’m an aficionado of boxes on wheels; I have two of them. Personally, I find the one box or one-and-a-half-box approach considerably more pragmatic and useful. But then my boxes weren’t exactly designed for interstellar travel. the demands for that might well explain the reason for such long boxes in front and back, and such a small one in the middle. I can’t imagine what other reason there might have been.
A power plant capable of such vast space journeys needs to have exceptional capabilities. Starting with immense displacement of internal space, like all of 440 cubic inches of it. With a giant quadruple-orifice vaporizer to feed its immense thirst for rocket fuel. It may sound totally absurd given what powers our planet’s vehicles, but the proof is sitting here in front of you. Of course, all that inner space displacement requires transformation into forward thrust, and there was no finer mechanism in the galaxy than its Torqueflite transformer. What else could convert immense torque into flight more effectively and reliably for the truly long journeys in the interspace highways?
Of course it’s an Imperial. Who else but the Empire could build such an unlikely but yet effective conveyance?
Shall we look into its accommodations?
The helm is well designed for its intended purposes, with extensive use of white materials to reflect radiation. And of course there isn’t a single electronic component used in its operational functions, to assure its ability to pass through any and all electronic-destroying defenses. The non-essential radio might conk out, but radio is a vast wasteland now anyway; here and in outer space. Unless of course one encounters stray radio emissions from 1967.
Instrumentation to monitor vital bodily fluids and power plant functions are more than ample. A blue spinner on the pilot wheel substantially simplifies close-in navigation, given the 43 turns of the wheel lock-to-lock. A compressed fluid system provides boost for its operation without any undesirable feedback. Who wants to have unpleasant sensations when encountering rough ripples in the space-time continuum?
Of course the wearer of the crown may well want to experience the Imperial’s long-distance capabilities from the back seat, which has no door, since extravehicular activities are typically relegated to the crew. Extra belts are provided in case of bulging waistlines from lack of exercise on longer trips.
I wonder what particular purpose this Imperial’s trip is? To gather facts about automobile technology on our planet? To pick up some French curves at the art supply store? To instill awe and wonder at the other-worldly noises emitted by its twin spent-gas emitters? Or to just remind us that although our design and technology might be more advanced, it’s not necessarily better in every way.