12. Hitchhiker
Three days had passed, and I had 74 hours left.
The highway stretched on endlessly, and the autopilot system was utterly exhausted, leaving Jinri and me no choice but to take turns driving.
At first, I couldn't drive at all, but Jinri taught me diligently. We were practically one entity, pressed close together—sometimes even touching—as I learned to drive. As a result, I became an expert not only in driving but also in Jinri's body temperature and actuator performance.
Outside, the city still looked like eternal night, but by the clock, it was early morning one day.
I was half-asleep, drowsy at the wheel, while Jinri slept soundly, using my thigh as a pillow. That's when an unexpected irregularity occurred.
Thirty kilometers ahead, a polar bear appeared.
It wasn't unusual to see humanoid robots walking or setting up stalls along the highway, so a single polar bear wasn't entirely out of place. But this bear was clearly targeting our convertible, raising its thumb toward us like the Terminator giving a thumbs-up while sinking into molten iron.
Unable to ignore it, I glanced at Jinri's sleeping face, debating whether to wake her. In the end, I decided against it and stopped the car in front of the bear on my own.
Up close, the polar bear was massive—easily five times my size—with fluffy, snow-white fur and an irresistibly adorable face. It was like a living teddy bear, Arctic edition.
"What's up?" I called out.
The bear lowered a half-finished bottle of Dr Pepper from its mouth and turned its gaze toward me.
For a moment, I thought it might be drunk and regretted stopping, but a closer look reassured me it wasn't. It just held the glass bottle so naturally that it gave off a slightly tipsy vibe.
In any case, I stopped the car and called out, and the bear's response was unexpected.
It hesitated briefly, then lowered the backpack from its shoulders and began rummaging inside. It pulled out a sketchbook and a box of crayons. Selecting a pristine white crayon—matching its fur—with a serious expression, it flipped open the sketchbook's first page.
The sketchbook's paper was pitch-black, not like a chalkboard but true, inky darkness.
The bear began writing something with the white crayon.
It took quite a while.
Upon closer inspection, I noticed the bear's thumbs were less developed than those of humanoid beings, making it struggle with fine tools like crayons.
I realized that in this world, non-humanoid forms came with functional limitations for robots. Quietly, I waited for the bear to finish writing.
Finally, it held up the sketchbook like a placard.
The words read:
"Give me a ride."
As expected, I thought, relieved that we could communicate. I'd been slightly worried that a bear might not understand humanoid robot language, but it seemed my concern was unwarranted.
Since the bear had stated something so obvious, I responded with an equally obvious question.
"What's up?"
I imagined reasons like a flat tire or a hike that turned out to be too long, but the bear's next message on the sketchbook was:
"No reason."
I liked that answer and immediately agreed.
The bear carefully stowed the sketchbook and crayons in its backpack, picked up the half-finished Dr Pepper, and climbed into the back seat of our convertible.
Its massive frame filled the spacious back seat entirely, making it feel cramped.
The car rocked heavily under its weight, like a seesaw.
The motion woke Jinri.
Rubbing her barely open eyes, she first grabbed my hand to make me pat her head, then finally noticed the polar bear occupying the back seat and let out a short, sharp scream.
"W-Who's that?!"
It was a reasonable reaction. Yawning, I answered.
Making the bear explain with its sketchbook would take too long, and time was precious to me right now. Why did I pick up the bear despite my limited time? Because I wanted to spend a fraction of my remaining lifespan on this bear.
"A hitchhiker," I said.
Jinri's eyes widened, her face turning as pale as the bear's fur, and she pressed further.
"Why'd you let it on?"
"No reason."
My immediate answer made her stare at me in stunned silence for a second before shaking her head vigorously.
"That's no good, no reason at all…"
"Why not?" I replied, exasperated.
"We've been bound by reasons for too long. This whole journey's been driven by the most compelling reason in the world—death. I'm sick of it. For once, I want to be free from reasons."
Jinri looked at me with a mix of exasperation and affection, like a lover of thirty years, shaking her head with a sigh.
"You're so wishy-washy, Yura. Just like your name."
"Thanks for getting me."
I gave her a slight bow, and she playfully tapped my head with the side of her hand, like a karate chop.
"I didn't get you—I just accepted it."
Her pouty tone was oddly endearing, and I couldn't help but reach out, pinching her soft cheeks and gently tugging them side to side. Tears like distilled water welled up in her eyes.
"Ow, ow!"
"You get me now?"
"You're so selfish, Yura-kun. Fine, I get you."
I let go of her cheeks. Unnoticed until then, the polar bear in the back seat had written something new on its sketchbook and was holding it up toward us.
"When are we leaving?"