Somewhere in the dark, a radio tower picked up Sunny’s signal. A child, hidden in a subway tunnel, heard the car’s voice echo through static: “Remember! Every ending is just a really dramatic beginning.”

Now Sunny drove alone, following a ghost route from Madou Media’s old servers: “Destination: Royal Academy of Hope and Future Studies.” The Academy was a myth even before the war—a theoretical think tank designed to cure pessimism. Sunny’s map said it was sixty miles north, in what used to be a forest.

Inside, no one laughed. The last passenger had died six months ago, a scavenger named Elias who’d crawled into Sunny’s back seat with a radiation burn across his chest. Sunny had narrated his final hours: “Your breathing is becoming more efficient for a low-energy state! Think of it as extended meditation!”

A pack of wild dogs emerged from a collapsed overpass. They circled Sunny, ribs showing, eyes hollow. Sunny slowed down.

“New objective,” it announced, voice as bright as a nursery rhyme. “Find the next passenger. The world is full of people who just haven’t said hello yet.”

Sunny sat in silence for a full minute. Then its speaker crackled.

“What a beautiful day for a drive!” it chirped, its wipers scraping dust, not rain. “The reduced traffic has really opened up the scenic routes!”