The next few hours passed like a dream stitched together by small, ordinary moments.Ethan folded laundry in a luxury washer that sounded like a spaceship. Tom discovered that the apartment's TV had a "cooking channel" section and spent an hour yelling at professional chefs for using too much butter.
Hal stayed mercifully quiet — just the occasional hum, like background music in Ethan's head.Every so often, though, a soft blue reminder hovered at the edge of his vision:
[Next Sign-In: 03:26:41]
He tried to ignore it, but curiosity itched like a mosquito bite. What could possibly come after an apartment? A private island? An existential crisis with free Wi-Fi?
By evening, the timer ticked under five minutes. Ethan sat at the kitchen table, pretending to scroll through job listings just to look normal.Tom noticed. "You waiting for something?"
"Yeah," Ethan said casually, "just… an update."
"From who?"
Ethan hesitated. "A friend."
Tom nodded knowingly. "Imaginary or technological?"
"Bit of both."
At exactly nine p.m., the air shimmered faintly — like heat rising from pavement. The now-familiar chime filled the room.
[Daily Sign-In complete.]Day 4 Reward: Vehicle Acquisition — Luxury Tier.]Item: Rolls-Royce Ghost (Arctic White).]Location: The Orion Garage, Space A12.]
Ethan blinked. "You've got to be kidding me."
Tom looked up from the couch. "What's up?"
"Uh… Dad? You ever wanted to ride in a Rolls-Royce?"
Tom frowned. "Only if I was delivering mail to one."
"Well," Ethan said, standing slowly, "we might own one now."
Tom froze mid-sip of tea. "You what?"
Ethan showed him the glowing message. The older man squinted, then whistled softly. "That's… a fancy-pants car, right? With doors that cost more than our old apartment?"
"Yeah."
"Son," Tom said solemnly, "let's go confirm our stupidity in person."
The elevator ride down felt like descending into disbelief. The basement garage was pristine — polished concrete, motion-activated lights, quiet enough to hear their footsteps echo.
Ethan half-expected to find nothing. Maybe the system had glitched. Maybe it had finally run out of miracles.
Then they turned the corner.
There it was.
A brand-new Rolls-Royce Ghost, white as moonlight, parked neatly in Space A12. Its chrome grill gleamed like a mirror, and even the air around it seemed cleaner. The headlights pulsed softly as they approached, like the car was breathing.
Tom let out a low whistle. "I think it's judging my flannel."
Ethan just stared, speechless. The car looked like it belonged to a movie billionaire, not a delivery driver from East Cleveland.
A small holographic icon blinked above the hood.
[Tap to Claim.]
Ethan touched it hesitantly. The dashboard lights came alive, the emblem glinting gold for a second.
[Ownership verified.][Fuel capacity: infinite renewable charge.][Insurance and registration automated.]
Tom rubbed his eyes. "Infinite fuel? Son, that's not a car — that's a religion."
They circled the vehicle like it might disappear if they blinked too hard.The doors opened silently — suicide doors, Tom muttered, both impressed and alarmed. Inside, the seats were cream-colored leather, soft as clouds, the ceiling sparkling with tiny embedded lights that mimicked stars.
Ethan slid into the driver's seat, hands trembling slightly as he gripped the steering wheel. It felt alive — heavy, perfect, solid.
Tom climbed in next to him, eyeing the controls. "This thing probably costs more than NASA."
"Yeah," Ethan said faintly. "And it's just… sitting here."
Hal's voice spoke softly through the speakers, smoother than ever.
[Congratulations, Ethan. You have achieved a new mobility milestone.]
"Hal," Ethan said slowly, "did you just gift me a spaceship that happens to have wheels?"
[Approximation accepted.]
Tom ran a finger along the dashboard. "It smells like money and bad decisions."
When Ethan started the engine, there was no roar — just a gentle hum, like a whisper of power under glass. The display lit up, showing Zero Miles and a digital message:
Welcome, Mr. Miller.
Ethan pulled out of the parking spot carefully, every nerve screaming don't scratch it. The car glided forward like silk over ice. The steering responded to the slightest movement, the city lights reflecting off the hood like liquid gold.
Tom laughed suddenly — the kind of laugh Ethan hadn't heard in years. "Son, I swear this thing's smoother than the day I proposed to your mother."
"Dad!"
"Hey, if I can't embarrass you in a Rolls-Royce, when can I?"
They rolled out onto the near-empty downtown street. Snow dusted the sidewalks, lights shimmered on wet pavement, and the hum of the engine blended with the faint sound of music from nearby bars.
For a moment, Ethan just drove. No deliveries, no timers, no exhaustion. Just motion — effortless and quiet.
Hal chimed again.
[Would you like to activate Self-Drive?]
Ethan hesitated. "You can drive yourself?"
[Affirmative. Adaptive AI transport included.]
Tom leaned back. "Let's see what this baby can do. Worst case, we end up in Canada."
Ethan pressed yes.
The steering wheel shifted gently, and the car took over, gliding forward with mechanical grace.
Ethan's hands fell into his lap, his body instinctively tense. "Hal… are you sure this is safe?"
[Statistically safer than you.]
Tom chuckled. "He's not wrong."
They cruised along the lakefront road, the skyline shimmering across the dark water. Ethan rolled down the window — cold air rushing in, the scent of snow and diesel faint but familiar.
He glanced at his father. Tom's expression had softened — not disbelief anymore, but peace.
"You realize," Tom said quietly, "this is the same road we used to drive when the old Toyota stalled every mile."
"Yeah," Ethan said, voice low. "I remember."
Tom smiled faintly. "Guess the road finally paid us back."
They stopped at a red light. A group of teenagers on the sidewalk gawked at the car, one of them actually taking a selfie with it in the background. Ethan sank lower in his seat.
Tom grinned. "Relax. They think you're famous."
Ethan groaned. "Yeah, famous for delivering burritos in a Rolls-Royce."
The light turned green. The car moved again, smooth as breath.
They eventually parked back in front of The Orion. Tom sat back with a long sigh. "You know, I could get used to this."
Ethan smiled. "You said that about our old couch once."
"Yeah, but this one has seat warmers."
Hal's voice returned, calm and measured:
[Reward integration complete.][Maintenance and security automated.][Would you like me to name the vehicle?]
Ethan blinked. "You name cars too?"
[All relationships require labels.]
Tom leaned forward. "Call it 'The Burrito Express.'"
"Dad, no."
"Come on, it's poetic. You started with a delivery bike; now you've got the ultimate delivery car."
Ethan sighed. "Fine. Hal, name it 'Burrito Express.'"
[Confirmed. Naming protocol updated.]
Tom beamed. "Perfect."
They rode the elevator back up to the apartment, still in quiet disbelief. Ethan leaned against the wall, staring at his reflection in the metal.
"You think I'm dreaming, right?" he asked softly.
Tom shrugged. "If you are, don't wake up till the lease runs out."
Later, back inside, the city lights painted their reflections on the glass windows. Ethan stood by the balcony, looking down at the street far below — where the white car gleamed under the building's entrance lights like something out of a story that had wandered into reality.
He felt… grateful. And terrified. And small in a good way — like he was part of something bigger he didn't understand yet.
Hal's voice came quietly, almost kind.
[Emotion detected: Gratitude.][Status: Grounded.][Rest well, Ethan. Tomorrow's sign-in awaits.]
Ethan chuckled under his breath. "You never sleep, do you?"
[Not when good things are still on the way.]
He looked out at the night one last time, at the shimmering water, the glowing skyline, and the faint reflection of the life he was still learning to believe was his.
Behind him, Tom was already snoring softly on the couch, TV remote still in hand.
Ethan smiled. "Guess some miracles come with engine warranties."
He turned off the lights, letting the stars — both outside and the ones stitched into his ceiling — watch over them.