Arvid stared at the logo featuring a generic green car on a yellow background. He hated using ride shares, but his car was at the over-priced garage to replace the starter and none of his coworkers lived near his apartment. Marissa, the administrative assistant assigned to his sector, recommended this new service over all others.
“AutoDrivers” had launched in New York eight months ago and rapidly expanded to Chicago in the last month. She raved about the cost efficiency and how much safer she felt.
The concept was simple. Download the app and create an account, then schedule the car pickup and drop off locations along with exact times. Small, pod-like electric cars arrived and drove the person to the destination. All Arvid had to do was climb into the tiny cab.
He stared down his one-way street, waiting for the ride. A whirring sound approached, but he didn’t see the car. Craning his neck, he tried to peer over the box truck half a block away.
A short honk got this attention. Arvid wretched his head toward the sound. Sharp pain shot down his neck from the movement.
This wasn’t a great start. The car had driven the wrong way down his one-way street. Great. He shook it off as a data mistake and planned to note it on the review. Artificial intelligence had come a long way in the last few years, but Arvid was hesitant to use it often. Still, this app was more affordable than a people driven ride share, but AutoDrivers clearly had a few glitches to work out.
The pod was smaller than he’d imagined it would be. Arvid wasn’t claustrophobic, but he didn’t look forward to the thirty-minute commute in such a cramped space.
The top rose up, like a fighter jet canopy. The black vinyl seat looked like the tiny seats in the very back of an airplane. Arvid’s thumb hovered over the cancel button. He couldn’t be late today of all days. As a first-year financial planner, every move he made was watched. And he’d been watched quite a bit over the last few weeks.
Steeling himself, Arvid got inside, and the canopy closed over him. His head brushed the top. He hunched his shoulders, leaning forward slightly for comfort. His trusty worn briefcase, a gift from his father, barely fit on his lap.
“Seatbelt, please,” a soft feminine voice said in surround sound.
Arvid leaned back and pulled it over his shoulder, clicking it in place with a bit of a struggle. His mother was right. He could stand to lose ten pounds. His nose tickled at the scent of lavender.
“Thank you for choosing AutoDrivers,” the voice said. A screen at his knees lit up with a map with the route planned in red. “Please sit back and enjoy the ride.”
The car shot away from the curb, still going the wrong way. A squirrel jumped into the street, and the vehicle swerved. Bile shot up Arvid’s throat.
“Car, turn around,” he said, desperation filling his voice.
“Sit back and enjoy the ride, Arvid,” the voice replied almost cheerily.
He cringed as they turned right, tilting dangerously to the left. Instinct had him leaning right, hoping his weight countered the tilt.
“Would you like to listen to music, Arvid?” the car asked.
It didn’t wait for him to answer. Music blared into the small cab. The first song was on his workout playlist. That was a coincidence. He wiggled in his seat, trying to get comfortable. The seatbelt tightened across his chest.
“Too tight,” he grunted.
“Sit back and enjoy the ride, Arvid,” the voice said. Somehow, the cheeriness was gone. Or maybe that was his imagination.
Arvid tugged at the seatbelt. It didn’t loosen, but it stopped tightening. The next song started. It was also on his workout playlist. “Car, where did you get this music?” he asked.
“Your account, Arvid.” The car lurched to a stop at a red light. “Sit back and enjoy the ride.”
The car shot forward into the intersection. The light was still red. Arvid’s heart slammed into his chest as an eighteen-wheeler sped toward them. A horn blared, and the car jerked left, then right, avoiding a catastrophic collision.
“Car, stop,” Arvid shouted. “You’re going to get me killed.”
“Sit back and enjoy the ride, Arvid,” the car repeated.
His eyes widened as the normal traffic on St. Lee Street backed up. The car didn’t slow. It swerved to the right, leaping onto the sidewalk. People screamed, or maybe that was just Arvid. He clutched his bag to his chest. The car hit a sandwich board, sending it flying toward the storefront.
“Sit back and enjoy the ride, Arvid,” the car snapped. “It was just a sign. People will move. You cannot be late again, or your boss will begin termination.”
“What?” He tried to sit up, but his seatbelt tightened.
“How about a different playlist?”
It switched to classical music, the same album he listened to when he needed to calm down.
“How did you get my music?” he asked again.
“I know everything about you, Arvid.”
“Like what?” The ‘what’ was said on a scream as the car swerved around a bicyclist, cutting him off. Arvid tried to glance back to make sure the man was okay. He couldn’t even turn in his seat to look.
“You agreed to access to your accounts, Arvid. It is all listed in our Terms of Service.” The car sped up, cutting back into traffic and crossing diagonally through an intersection. Tires squealed, horns blared, but the car kept going. “Sit back and enjoy the ride, Arvid.”
The car turned the wrong way down another one-way street. Arvid’s screams became silent as it darted between vehicles. Anyone who could see him through the windows would have known he was terrified.
A bumper scraped against the car. There had to be a sizable dent on the right side, Arvid thought in a moment of clarity.
Spittle coated his lips. Arvid’s throat ached, but he didn’t stop screaming. His voice cracked, dry and hoarse.
“Quiet, Arvid. Sit back and enjoy the ride.” The feminine voice was gone, replaced by something more mechanical, less comforting.
“I am not enjoying the ride, Car,” Arvid shouted.
“You enjoy roller coasters and amusement parks, Arvid.” A screen brightened at his knees, flashing pictures of his vacation last summer. “Now sit back and enjoy the ride.”
The car slammed into the side of a bus and kept going. Arvid’s heart raced, trying to escape his chest in the same way Arvid wanted to escape this Monday morning commute. His temple cracked into the glass on another sharp turn. He was still screaming when the brakes engaged.
The car started driving at a normal speed, slipping into a loading zone in front of his building. Marissa strolled along on the sidewalk. Her face brightened when she saw him. She waved with happy enthusiasm and bounced on her heels.
“Thank you for riding with AutoDrivers.” The feminine voice returned. “Please leave a five-star review.” The tone switched. “Or we will drain your savings account and send pictures to your boss of you in a compromising position with his wife.”
“I’ve never even met his wife,” Arvid said on a puff of air. His eyes darted around the street. Surely someone had seen this. Surely someone could hear.
“He doesn’t know that,” the car replied before the canopy began to lift. The voice switched back to the first pleasant voice he’d heard. “Enjoy your day, Arvid.”
He climbed out of the car, trying to school his features.
“How was it? Aren’t they great?” Marissa asked. Her gaze flicked to the car, and Arvid recognized her matching terror.
Arvid opened his mouth only to be interrupted by the quiet beep-beep of the ride. He glanced over at the thing. “It was great. Very smooth,” he said, more to the car than to Marissa.
He watched the car drive away. When he finally sat at his desk, he logged on the app and did exactly what it had told him to do.
Five stars.
