And then you’re like: “I’m out on the next stop”.

“No, you’re not”

Until one of them starts musing Alzheimer’sly about how their son will save them, you’ll see.

All I want is autonomous self driving taxis with a Robert Picardo robot pretending to drive and making small talk.

I am a shut-in living in a low density area (and the trail near me is even still closed). This hits so many escapist fantasies: public transportation, full-conversion cyborg (living in a fortress the shape of my body), low-cost living, and certainly that’d be a unionized position.

I can already imagine my brain in a core like Wheatley driving a tiny railcar, “You don’t have a heart problem do you?” as I quickly accelerate. “This might seem dangerous, but you are extremely late. Like embarrassingly late. I’m fairly sure if either of us gets in trouble tonight it’ll be you attempting to shop this close to closing time. So the way I see it, this is a light emergency. Besides, I don’t have enough to talk about at normal speed, it’d be awkward.”