Every passenger is unique, bringing their own energy, attitude, and, yes, scents into our cars. But there are really only two types of passengers: considerate and inconsiderate.

This time, I was too late, and the damage was done. I didn't stop. There was nothing I could do. We're only a block away from her place, and she's making an icy vomit mural that is frozen down the side of my new Prius. And it's not like I can clean it anyway; there are no open car washes when it's negative 15 degrees at 1 a.m. Even the hose at my house won't work. Her sickness on the side of my car is a problem for tomorrow morning. My night was over. No bonus.

He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t probe. It was 4 a.m., after all. After dropping him off at the airport, I sat alone in my car, debating with myself. I couldn’t help but wonder why he was going. Maybe it wasn’t about politics. Maybe he was going because it felt like the thing to do — a moment in history, a new leader. Isn’t that what people do?

He navigated the few sanctioned streets, gliding beneath the watchful gaze of cameras mounted on sleek, self-correcting traffic lights. A single autonomous taxi drifted past, its polished, driverless frame reflecting the glow of a streetlamp. He refued to acknowledge the neon banner: The Future is Here: Safer, Smarter, Driver-Free.

If AI becomes what they say it could be, Pixar’s Wall-E might be the most profound movie of human history. It feels like our future will be fat versions of ourselves floating on chairs, sucking on smoothies, and watching screens.