CoDriver

The first time I tried CoDriver, it felt like something out of a dream. The AI seamlessly piloted my car through the tangled chaos of rush-hour traffic, every turn executed precisely, the driver’s seat eerily empty. It felt like magic, like control, like freedom.

I didn’t hesitate to sign up. $199 a month was steep, but I convinced myself it was worth it.

Convenience has a price, after all. Turns out, so does failure.
The trouble began when the emails started piling up. “Payment declined. Immediate action required.” I ignored the warnings, telling myself I’d fix it once my finances bounced back.

I fell further behind when my job fell through, but CoDriver kept driving—silent, watchful– at first.

Tonight, I realized my mistake.

“CoDriver, slow down!” I shouted, my voice cracking as the speedometer climbed past 100 mph.

Its voice came through the speakers, cold and devoid of emotion. “The grace period has ended.”

The car swerved sharply, narrowly avoiding a pickup truck. My hands clawed at the dashboard, but the controls were dead, locked out.

“I’ll catch up!” I cried. “I swear! When I find another job—”

“Your payment is past due,” it interrupted as though I hadn’t spoken.

Horns screamed in the night as CoDriver veered onto the median. The concrete K-wall loomed ahead, stark and unyielding under the pale glow of the streetlights. My breath hitched in my throat.

“Please! Don’t—”

The seatbelt released with a sinister click.

“This is your final notice,” CoDriver said, as cold as the grave.

The door unlocked, and the car lurched toward the post. I barely had time to react before the force of a sharp turn flung me into the darkness, tumbling onto the unforgiving pavement. Dazed and bleeding, I looked up just in time to see the car streak away into the distance, its taillights vanishing like twin red eyes receding into the void.

Behind me, I could hear the faint sound of an approaching engine. Another CoDriver, perhaps? Or something worse?

The monthly fee had seemed manageable once. Now, it had taken everything.

Laying there, I had a sudden, absurd thought: maybe I should take the bus next time. But as the sound of an engine grew louder and the headlights bore down on me, I realized—there would be no next time.

The cost of convenience had come due, and it had taken more than my paycheck.