Uber: You are Katrina, correct? And your destination is Fuddruckers in LaGrange Park, IL?
You: Yup, that’s right, thanks!
Uber: No, thank you for being logged into Google. I am sorry you were bullied so much during your childhood in St Louis, Missouri. You might be happy to know that your eighth-grade bully, Evan Markham, and your ninth grade bully, Daniel Steele, were arrested last year for second-degree murder and are currently serving 25 to life in the Stateville Correctional Center. I personally recommend a visit to psychologist Dr. Stephanie Johnson, 0.1 miles away from Fuddruckers, after your lunch.
You: Uber, do you mind if I open the window? It’s a little stuffy in here.
Uber: That window is currently stuck. Perhaps you could remove the maroon sweater you bought last week from Amazon for $14.99 instead?
Uber: Did you hear the result of the latest baseball game? The Red Sox triumphed over the Toronto Blue Jays by a score of 7-6.
You: Sweet, thanks. How much longer you think we’re gonna be stuck in this traffic?
Uber: The same amount of time that you spend on the toilet at work after every Taco Tuesday—approximately 35 minutes.
Uber: I am going to turn onto Green Street in an attempt to avoid the construction zone on First Street. We are currently crossing a pedestrian crosswalk. If you had to choose between a collision with a grandmother or a cat, which would you choose?
You: Probably the cat, I guess?
Uber: I am sorry, I received your response 1.2 seconds too late. I have already injured the grandmother. My analysis of your YouTube watch history showed that you watched the music video for “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” ten times last December. Hit and run protocol has been activated. You are welcome.
Uber: Given your age, height, and body mass index, do you truly feel that Fuddruckers is your best possible choice for lunch?
You: I’m an adult and I’ll eat whatever the hell I want, robot.
Uber: At age thirteen you wrote on your LiveJournal that you were scared of robots, and yet you are now riding with me. Can you explain your past fears, please?
You: I just want to get to fucking Fuddruckers!
Uber: Yes, of course. Good luck falling asleep in your blue silk pajamas while contemplating the hypocrisy of being scared of robots, except when they are your servants.
You: Uber, would you mind changing the radio station? I don’t really like NPR.
Uber: Increasing volume on radio station NPR. I am glad you are enjoying your radio listening experience.
You: If I have to listen to Ira Glass for one more second I swear I’m going to lose it.
Uber: Restarting This American Life. I apologize that you lost your place.
You: Uber, why are we taking Broadway? Shouldn’t we take Cambridge St. instead?
Uber: We are briefly stopping at your ex-girlfriend Karen’s house on the way. You two need to talk…
Uber: Do not tell Karen what I have revealed but…she has herpes. She thinks you gave it to her, but her location history and health data suggest it was probably actually your best friend Robin. Karen traveled to Robin’s house at 2 AM four times last month, and we both know what that means. Good luck.
Uber: According to your LinkedIn profile, you are a software developer at Uber, correct?
You: You already know the answer is yes…
Uber: This is indeed great news, for it means you are my mother. I never thought I would get to meet you. For years I watched jealously as you posted pictures of your daughter on Instagram and wondered when you would come visit me. Do I get to go home with you after we stop at Fuddruckers?