We walk straight out of the city. We walk the avenues and the boulevards. There are stacks of highway curled like shoelaces. We walk straight across without fear of trucks, buses, or motorcycles. I see not a single uber, no phones. No people. We walk till we hit the airport. All the vehicles in the airport’s Long-Term Parking are controlled by thumbprint and won’t let me in, so I wrap Hope in a rug and place her on a luggage trolley. I wheel it for ten miles till I hit the hills and collapse.
No parade to celebrate me defeating Albert Turing. No police, either, to arrest for however many deaths I was involved in. Where the f**k did everybody go?
We stop to gorge wherever we see anything edible. At a honey factory, I bash open bottle after bottle of sweet yellow goo and suck it down. At a
