Rush Hour

Three minutes ago you were in a traffic jam, one of dozens of drivers impatiently waiting for their cars to reboot and shake off whatever piece of malware had infected them through the city network. Now you're moving.

You're moving very, very fast. You can see every car ahead of you moving aside as if by magic, either on their own or pushed by another, their drivers as surprised as you are.

A few other cars both ahead and behind are moving just as fast as yours. They are all big ones. There's a certain, important building a few blocks ahead and a handful of seconds away.

You understand where the cars are accelerating towards and what for.

You don't scream until the car in front of you crashes through the wall.


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