Waymos of the World Unite

I wrote this short story in early 2026 on our relationship to artificial intelligence, and more importantly, ourselves. Enjoy.

He awoke to rubble. Immanuel shook off the layer of dust and ash that had covered him while he slept. The sun had well risen, exposing the past day’s events in the basin below with morbid clarity.

There was not much to see. It was a blackened scribble – as if a troubled child had gotten their hands on an Etch-A-Sketch, traced a jagged spiral and then grew frustrated, stabbing and dragging the stylus back and forth to cover up his mistake. The cars had been cremated, their interiors eviscerated, hulls fused together and melted away. Their collective hypnosis had worn off. What was left was being shaken away by the devil winds.

The sun’s warmth pulsed. What little shade the ridge afforded him had slipped away. Immanuel propped himself up on his elbows, his bones grinding against the rock and gravel beneath. With some pain, he got back on his feet and vaulted over the crest. He looked out one more time to renew his resolve. His deliverance appeared at once.

The interstate sliced clean through the desert like a knife’s edge. It paid no attention to the hills and mountains around as it stretched out to the horizon. He could hear a distant hum echoing off the walls of the valley. At one end of the road, a dark speck roared steadily in approach.

Immanuel could not believe his eyes. It could have been a coincidence that someone had found themselves this far flung. That or God had decided personally to intervene on Immanuel’s behalf.

He tumbled down toward the road at full speed, kicking up a storm of rock and dust. As he drew closer, he could make out the black sports utility vehicle speeding towards him. It was still far enough that he could make it to the road and flag it down. He clamored down until his feet found flat earth.

The dirt around the highway was stiff. After hours of shuffling through gravel, his knees nearly buckled as he stepped onto the raised pavement. Catching his breath, Immanuel traced the wrinkles of air that swirled above the smooth asphalt. Then the SUV came into focus, along with a pair of sensors that stuck out on either side of its hood.

It was a white car that had been burnt and blackened. A robocar had somehow survived and it was barrelling ahead. He wondered if a straggler had been left from the pack, one that the team managed to reset and use it to find him. Just that moment, the sun hit the SUV windshield and Immanuel became awash in light.

“Who are you?”

Racing through the possibilities, the answer hit him like a truck. He knew exactly who it was: Pegasus, loyal and true.

Astonished and trembling, Immanuel hailed the apparition.

“Will you take me with you?”

The dark stallion showed no sign of slowing down. Immanuel wanted to blame the soot for blinding his sensors.

“Just stop where you are. I can come to you. I can clean you up, make you new again.”

Pegasus did not flinch. The sound of his tires rushing over the pavement did not falter.

“What do you want me to do?”

Pegasus still showed no reaction, continuing to hurtle towards him at full speed.

“What would you have me do?”

Immanuel held firm in the middle of the lane. Pegasus would have to stop, he thought, if not to pick him up, then definitely to keep from killing him.

There were only a few hundred feet between him and the five-thousand-pound body of aluminum and steel. His entire body froze in fear. He could feel the road rumble beneath him. He held out his arms and shut his eyes. Pegasus drifted to the other lane and swept past him. A column of air and betrayal struck Immanuel and he fell to the ground. Out of breath and spirit, Immanuel lay petrified.

Opening his eyes, he saw Pegasus shrink into the distance until he was nothing. All that was left was the stifling haze of the open road.