Smart and highly connected cars.
-Shh! Come here, don't let him hear us.
-Who?
-That bastard.
-Who, ho?
-My car, you know it too.
-The fact that?
-My medical data, my genetic information, how I brake and accelerate...
-Hey?
-That bastard even knows who I'm sleeping with.
-But what do you say, Pedro Pablo?
-Boo. I wanted a smart car but what a snitch I got, kid.
-Car?
-Yeah. It's terrible for my privacy and our security.
-Our?
-That bastard collects more information than any cell phone or digital device.
-Shut up, ho!
-Yes, Belarmino, these bugs are no longer what they were. They are the devil!
-Don't worry, Pedrín.
-They are sneaky computers on wheels.
-And who told you to buy a connected car?
-Let me know if I fall asleep, you can call the emergency room in case of an accident, entertain the goats with your screens when you travel...
-Jobar! It is so modern that you can practically drive yourself.
-Of course, Bellarmino, but you're screwed.
-I? By?
-Do you know the enormous amount of data it collects about us?
-And what do you tell me?
-That bastard has cookies, chips and...
-Hush, fame is coming in!
-Stop your pajamas, eh.
-But why do you get so nervous, Pedro Pablo?
-Because you are hot, and you are going to put me on a commitment.
-I???
-Chissst, fala baxu! It has touch sensors, screens, microphones and cameras that record everything we do...
-Oh really?
-It has cameras both inside and outside.
-Gonsumadreee!
-Shissst, fala baxu, damn!
-And you tell me now?
-I told you well, Belarmino. It's hotter than a summer slide.
-You started it, cynic!
-I was just a picu, cuco, I came out on top of the playoff and...
-Metisti lingua, Belarmo. Punishing my nerves, and this car measures my heart rate.
-Mecca. And then?
-Now we are stuck in the cloud. And I'm not referring to the promotion.
-Oh really?
-Clear. He surely recorded it and has our data.
-Mecca. What if you sell them to third parties?
-What third parties? Girona?
-Toi acoyonáu, Belarmín: I don't know whether to sell the car or ask to leave.
