And the car dealerships weren’t the only ones who had to be paid off. The Arrivals were battery-powered, and all the island gas stations feared bankruptcy if they lost an entire month of sales. Even the local police department—Sandra had heard all about this from Joe—had to be compensated for lost revenue. The Arrivals were programmed to obey the speed limit, so there weren’t going to be any tickets issued for exceeding it. And an Arrival never overstayed its time at a parking meter. It had a built-in app to purchase more time if needed.

After she gave up the Focus, Sandra was given the use of a bright red Arrival. About the same size as her car, but far more futuristic looking, with its swoopy, aerodynamic shape. The car, sitting in the driveway, was linked to the house by a thick, black cable.

“You wanna unplug Gracie?” Sandra asked the kids.

Archie jumped at the chance. He went to the front of the car and detached the cable from an opening next to the right headlight. As he pulled it away, a small, red panel whirred into place over the outlet, disguising it. The cable itself retracted into the charging station—a small box attached to the wall next to the garage door.

“Thank God I remembered to plug it in last night,” she said. “Be just great, running out of juice on the way to the event.”

Archie, having completed his task, went and stood by his sister.

Then, speaking neither to Katie nor Archie, Sandra said, “Gracie, open.”

From somewhere—under the car, maybe the vents at the base of the windshield—came a voice. Feminine, but not overly so. Personable, but at the same time not overly familiar.

“Good morning, Sandra. It would be my pleasure.”

“I think she sounds hot,” Archie whispered to his sister.

Katie whispered back, “She might be the best you ever get.”

The door on the passenger side—both sides, actually, were passenger sides—popped out an inch, then slid back on a track to allow access. There were two seats in the front and two in the back. A gleaming black touch-screen dash ran across the bottom of the windshield.

There was no steering wheel.

Gracie said, “It is going to be a lovely day, Sandra. A high of seventy-five degrees, moderate cloud cover. There is a chance, however, of fog later in the afternoon.”

“Thanks for that,” Sandra said.

It had become something of a game for everyone on the island to try and identify the voice. The rumor was that Arrival had hired Scarlett Johansson to provide enough linguistic sound effects that the cars could put together any sentence necessary. Others thought Amy Adams or Emma Stone had been brought in. Sandra’s theory: several actresses had been used, their voices thrown into a digital blender to come up with the ultimate tonal companion.