The Other Hand on the Wheel
sci-fi◐ MatureMara doesn't move. She stares at the package and the rule on the slip: do not open it. Whoever wrote this knew she'd want to peek. Her thumb finds the tape. 'Just a corner,' she tells herself. 'Just to see.' The retrochron's hum jumps higher, angry now, like it knows.
The paper tears and there's nothing inside. Empty. The package was always empty. Mara laughs, half relief, half terror. Then she gets it: the package was never the point. SHE was the delivery. The retrochron clicks off, and the doors of her car lock by themselves.
What happens next?
1 ways forwardThe locked doors won't budge. The retrochron lights up one last time and the meter spins toward a date Mara doesn't know. She bangs on the glass. Outside, a courier in a brown uniform walks up, takes a fresh package from the trunk, and sets it on a new car's seat. Mara has become the delivery for someone else's loop. The car drives off without her.