The smartdrives were lined up in what had once been a motorway service station. Others joined the end as the lead set off through the night. A convoy on the edge of legality. There wasn’t the usual transit messaging: the old CB radio jokes, the chat. They always switched off the intercar networks. Partly security, partly just a tradition. The ride was eerily silent, winding through the night. The lead flashed its logo twice as it loomed into view. Blank. Massive. Deserted. Secret. Ready. The cars pulled in. The mall was quiet, dark… apart from one store. It was on.