As we moved through the city, the streets began to change. The modern glass skyscrapers flickered and reverted into the gray, crumbling concrete buildings of the late 90s. The LED billboards vanished, replaced by hand-painted signs. I wasn't just driving through the city; I was driving through its memory.
I looked at the passenger seat. There was no money, only a single, heavy silver coin from a country that no longer exists. My phone screen flickered one last time and then went black, the "Est Taxi" app deleting itself as if it had never been there. skachat programmu est taksi
"To the station, please," a voice whispered. It sounded like the rustle of turning pages. As we moved through the city, the streets began to change
When we reached the station, the back door opened and closed. Ping. The app notified me: I wasn't just driving through the city; I