Slacy’s new robot companion is more than just a snack vending machine. The pair retrofit a car and prep for long-distance travel. But a cry in the dark threatens to rip them apart.

Hats off to 2025 — Ed The Cozy Editor caps off the year with flare

After his last car took a nose dive, Slacy needs a new ride. At Voltivian HQ, he should be able to find one, but biometrics and access restrictions are a constant problem in the digital age. Good thing he has a friend with credentials.

Slacy is getting restless—good thing he found a car. Bad thing—he hates it.

Slacy found clothes, but no answers to his questions. Alone in the gargantuan warehouse, he struggles to stay sane. Good thing he’s got sarcasm to keep him company.

After a meet cute that was confusing for everyone involved, Slacy assesses his injuries. Severely wounded in an barren, city-sized warehouse, filled with the forgotten relics of a dead civilization, he struggles to find pants.

Slacy arrives at a vast warehouse in search of pants. The lights are dead, but something else is alive among the meat and silence.

Slacy finally puts on some clothes. The wind howls through empty streets, stirring the remains of a world that vanished overnight. Machines go through the motions, clinging to order amid decay, while Slacy hitches a ride.

The jungle presses close around Slacy, thick with heat, rot, and breath. Something moves, stalking. When the trees clear, all he finds is dust and the bones of a dead world. He finally realizes where he is—but all he wishes for now is death.

Hell has no sunscreen, and Slacy’s learning that the hard way. The desert burns without mercy, buzz-vultures buzz, and time itself feels like it’s melting. Every step forward is punishment, but somewhere ahead, the heat starts to fade.