The commute, at first, had gone smooth.
Damien handled the Selvenhardt like a pilot easing through low turbulence—eyes forward, hands steady, reflexes clean. The early part of the route was quiet, the estate roads clear, the AI's soft assistance barely whispering in the background. No sudden corrections. No override alerts.
Then they hit the city grid.
And it began.
The school hour rush.
Damien's fingers tightened slightly on the wheel as a procession of autonomous vehicles crawled like metallic ants along the main corridor—precise, slow, utterly lifeless. Selvenhardt's AI began suggesting optimal merge points and ideal waiting windows in soft tones. He ignored all of them.
Because patience?
Not his thing.
He started shifting lanes.
Once. Twice. Then again.
The AI adjusted without protest, but the sensors lit soft warnings every few seconds. "Caution: Following distance reduced." "Caution: Lane clearance marginal." "Caution: Manual override suggested."
Damien didn't care.
