It was a waiting room. And it had been waiting for him to figure out what full service really meant.
Leo blinked. “Who are you?”
Slot 11 rotated ninety degrees. Slot 9 slid backward three feet. Slot 17 lifted two inches, then settled. The grey sedan completed its rotation and faced the exit. Then it stopped. auto place
He looked up at the broken sign. The arrow pointing to full service. The words his uncle had painted by hand, decades ago: We wash. We wax. We listen. It was a waiting room
Three cars showed up. A dented Prius, a spotless Tesla, and a mud-caked F-150. The gate recognized each one. The robotic guidance arms hummed. The cars glided into their slots like obedient fish. a spotless Tesla