The Captioned Meadow

The Sand in the Treads

Every dawn the autonomous taxis roll back into ROSA's garage with sand in their treads, though the city sits two hundred miles from any shore. Tonight she rides along with a thermos and a blanket.

The Goose Lattice

Each October morning the intersection's driverless cars halt in a perfect lattice while the geese cross to the reservoir. The geese are late today, and still the cars wait, humming at nothing.

The Analog Tram

One hand-driven tram remains in the depot, kept for parades. Every night the driverless fleet parks in a half-circle facing it, headlamps low, like an audience that arrived early.

The Banked Sunlight

Roof tiles on WIDOW HALE's cottage bank the day's sun and let it back out after midnight. She takes her tea at 1 a.m. in a small private noon while the rest of the street sleeps dark.

The Two A.M. Chord

Every house on the crescent hums soft white noise for its sleepers, and TOBI discovers the hums are tuned — at 2 a.m. the whole street settles into one long chord only he stays awake to hear.

The Billboards' Gray Sea

Sign technician MARISOL works the strip after closing, when the e-ink billboards drop into rest mode. Tonight every screen on the street rests on the same image — a slow gray sea nobody paid for.