“Most people don’t self-drive these,” Bigend said, pulling out onto Sunset, headed east.

“Most people don’t drive them at all,” Hollis corrected, from the passenger seat beside him. She craned her neck for a glimpse back into what she supposed could be called the passenger cabin. There seemed to be a sort of frosted skylight, as opposed to a mere moonroof. And a lot of very glossy wood, the rest in carbon-colored lambskin.

A Brabus Maybach,” he said, as she turned her head in time to see him give the wheel a little pat.