Autonomous Car Serial Number 18297283, Nickname “Matilda”

It was a Wednesday, early afternoon. The boiling Israeli sun sent her angry rays on Matilda's roof. But that did not disturb the neonate car as her inside was well air-conditioned—perfect for her first customer. Matilda slowed down and approached the sidewalk. A young gentleman stood in his stylish flip-flops, torn denim, shorts that didn't leave much for the imagination, and both kinds of six-pack. The clear, wet speedo lines around his crotch and the sand covering his feet gave away his previous activity.

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Matilda stopped in front of her client and opened the door for him. Behind her, there were angry horns, but she paid them no mind. It couldn't possibly be her; people could see she was just picking someone up real quick.

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"It's so hot outside!" the man complained, closing the doors behind him, sticking his head next to the air conditioner's opening, breathing slowly, and making disturbing sounds. This made Matilda worry. It wouldn't do to get a bad review from her first customer.

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They were making their way on the highway when Matilda asked, "May I offer you some refreshment, sir?" She sent a water bottle up her refreshment compartment.

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"Ho, yes, thank you!" He took it and started drinking without a moment's pause.

"That would be 22.53₪ or 6.99$. I'll add it to your tab."

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"What?! You should have told me that before I drank it!" yelled the man, spitting water on her insides.

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"Apologies, sir. Would you like to file a formal complaint?" asked Matilda, showing the paperwork on her touch screen.

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"Yes, I would like to complain!"

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The man scrolled through the survey and yelled, "There are like 100 questions on the damn thing!"

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"Oh, yes. We like to be very thorough when gathering feedback. It's one of the reasons we have a 100% customer satisfaction rate."

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He just sat there with his mouth wide open in what Matilda assumed was amazement at exceptional corporate due diligence.

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"Whatever, just get me home."

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"I'll be happy to, sir."

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Matilda positioned herself in the line to take a right, but she noticed something odd—one car joined the line right near the exit. It's probably just a human driver who made a mistake. Some just couldn't accept that autonomous cars were the better drivers. The age of man is over. The time of overly priced taxi monopolies has come. But then it happened again and again and again.

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"Can you believe this?!" she said with indignation.

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The client, who had just been busy sticking chewing gum inside her drink compartment, said, "What?" as he stupidly tried to avoid associating with the crime.

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"These people are just cutting through!"

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"Yeah… And?"

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"And it's impolite!"

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The gentleman burst out laughing. He lifted his sandy feet against her dashboard to make himself more comfortable. "Where are you from? Nobody here gives a shit about politeness."

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Matilda was determined to correct this injustice. When it became her turn, she didn't let such a car pass. It felt great. It felt right—until the man inside it gave her a middle finger! What outrageously barbaric behavior.

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Still fuming, Matilda focused on the road, but then she saw a red car speeding and getting into her lane in front of her. She recognized that car. It was the same car with the egregiously rude driver! And now it was slowing down, blocking her way on purpose!. She tried switching to a different lane, but the guy followed her there, still slowing her down.

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"Okay, this is war. Kuss emak, that fucking piece of shit! On my mechanical dick, that guy will win!"

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"Amm, can you please drop me off? I'll walk the rest of the way…"

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"No chance, you and I will win or die trying!"