Uber driver Tom Chen picked up the passenger at 2 AM. Young woman. Dressed in white. Shaking like she’d seen a ghost.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Just drive,” she said. “I’ll tell you when.”

Tom drove. Through empty streets. Through red lights. Through a city that felt like it was holding its breath.

“You’re not the first,” the woman said.

“The first what?”

“The first driver. There were others. Before you. They’re gone now.”

Tom felt his blood freeze. “Gone where?”

“Gone. Vanished. Like they never existed.”

He checked the rearview mirror. The woman was smiling. Not a nice smile. A smile that knew things.

“Who are you?”

“The passenger. The one who chooses. The one who decides who drives next.”

“Decides what?”

“Who survives the shift. Who makes it to dawn. Who becomes part of the city’s memory.”

Tom slammed the brakes. “Let me out.”

“Can’t. You’re already mine. Already chosen. Already driving the last route.”

“What route?”

“The one that ends at the river. The one that ends with the car in the water. The one that ends with you gone.”

Tom accelerated. Tried to reach the station. Tried to reach safety. Tried to reach anything that wasn’t the river.

The GPS rerouted. Automatically. Inevitably. Toward the water. Toward the end. Toward the choice he couldn’t escape.

“Why me?”

“Because you needed the money. Because you took the night shift. Because you were desperate.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Fair? This isn’t about fair. This is about selection. About survival. About the city’s appetite.”

Tom reached the river. Stopped the car. Turned to face the woman.

“I’m not going in the water.”

“You don’t have a choice. But you can make it easier. Or harder.”

Tom made his choice. Grabbed the woman. Tried to pull her from the car. Tried to escape together.

She faded. Like smoke. Like a memory. Like something that was never really there.

The car moved on its own. Rolled toward the water. Sank without a splash.

Tom drowned. Quietly. Quickly. Like the others.

The next morning, a new driver picked up the app. Got a request. Drove to the pickup location.

A young woman waited. Dressed in white. Smiling like she knew something.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Just drive,” she said. “I’ll tell you when.”

Some passengers were people. Some were selections. Some were the city’s way of feeding.

Tom learned that too late. And so will the next driver.

Because the river is always hungry. And the city always provides.