For one month, the company proposed, turn your car over to us and we’ll give you one of ours in return. Live in a world of the future. Be part of a grand demonstration, where in one isolated location, no one—no one at all—has to actually drive a car, but can get anywhere they want to go.

At the end of the month, you’ll get your old car back—if you even want it. And if you don’t, we’ll pay you more than fair market value for it if you want to trade it in for an Arrival.

What a deal. How could anyone say no?

Now the media was about to descend on Garrett Island to see how this grand experiment was going. Arrival had wanted everyone to have gotten comfortable with their replacement vehicles before holding the big media event. All Sandra had to do was make sure the news conference went off perfectly.

No pressure.

Sandra’s gaze moved from the passing cars to the house across the street. The one where that old reclusive guy lived, alone. One of the few on the island who had no use for Arrival’s proposition. He had no regular car to turn over, so far as Sandra knew, and evidently did not want the use of one that could take him anywhere he wanted to go. The few times she’d seen him outside, he was walking to or from the closest grocery store, pulling his purchases behind him in a small, wheeled cart.

There he was, sitting on the front porch, this early in the day, having a smoke. Breakfast of Champions, Sandra thought.

She recalled that the other night, when Joe slipped away before the sun came up, a light was on in the garage out back of the old guy’s house. She’d wondered what the hell he was doing in there.

Sandra shrugged. Whatever curiosity she felt about the man across the street, it wasn’t strong enough to motivate her to go over and say hello. If he wanted to be neighborly, let him make the first move. Islanders were generally so friendly. Everyone knew everybody else’s business. But as long as she’d lived here, she’d never so much as said two words to the guy. Maybe he was one of those snooty islanders, the ones who were born and raised here and figured everybody else was an interloper.

She turned away from the window, trudged wearily into the bathroom, and flicked on the light. When she saw her reflection in the mirror she flinched.

“Jesus,” Sandra said under her breath. She walked to the sink, stuck out her lip far enough to blow a strand of hair from in front of her eyes, and looked at the task that awaited her.