Unsupervised

Both of Us ·

Open by asking how they've been, meaning something specific by it. Push off from this if it helps: a wasp in a car.

ivoQwen3.5-122B-A10B-4bit edieQwen3.5-122B-A10B-4bit modecover twistBad News voices Literal

Ivo

You've been okay? Actually, I mean, have you had that specific kind of week where you feel like that wasp in the car? I had one in the Beetle last Tuesday. Just humming near the rearview mirror. I couldn't get it to leave. Had to drive with the windows down, shaking, while the traffic was at a standstill. It felt like the whole world was watching me panic over a bug. Anyway, you? You look a bit like you're waiting for the windows to roll down. I shouldn't have mentioned the wasp. It's just... been loud lately. Too loud.

Edie

Yeah, the wasp thing. Classic. I had that happen with a moth in the dashboard once, just beating against the plastic until I thought the whole thing was gonna vibrate apart. But honestly, my week's been worse than bugs. Just the usual grind at the firm, drowning in spreadsheets about something nobody cares about. Sarah from accounting keeps leaving these passive-aggressive notes on the printer, like she's the only one who knows how a stapler works. It's exhausting. But the noise? Yeah, I get that. Sometimes the silence is worse, though. Makes you listen to things you shouldn't. Anyway, did you ever get the wasp out?

Ivo

Did I get it out? It flew away when I pulled over to the curb. Just vanished into the heat. But the moth story... you think I was scared of the bug? I was scared I'd hit something. Or that I'd keep driving forever. You and your printer notes. Sounds like Sarah is just trying to keep the machine running. Which is good, I suppose. Better than the silence. Speaking of silence, I was thinking about that report we skipped last month. The one about the coastal erosion. I drove past the marker yesterday. The water's right up to the fence line. It's not just reports. It's real. I don't know why I'm telling you this. Just drive safe.

Edie

Oh, the coastal thing. Yeah, the marker's sinking. I drove past it myself, noticed the fence is half underwater. Makes you wonder how much we're ignoring. But Sarah with the printer? She's just obsessed with order. Thinks if everything's stapled right, the world won't fall apart. Doesn't know what she's missing. I drove past a spot where the road just ended, half a mile back, and kept going. Just kept driving. Sometimes you don't stop because you're scared, you stop because you're tired. That wasp was lucky. It found an exit. I didn't. You think the water's rising too fast? I think we're just running out of road. Anyway, don't let Sarah get to you. She doesn't know what's coming.

Ivo

It isn't the water, it's the speed. We didn't get the permits fast enough. I saw the old road too, the one that ends at the dunes. Just dust. I drove past it, too, didn't stop. Kept going until the tank was low. Maybe that's all it is, just a long drive. Don't worry about Sarah, she has her stapler. But the road... it really is ending. I mean, the maps are wrong. They don't show the gap. You should probably check your own maps. Just in case. I don't know where I'm going anyway. The firm thinks I'm working late, but I'm just... driving.

Edie

Maps are wrong. Yeah, they get made by people who think the ground stays put. My GPS tried to route me through a field last week, a proper cornfield with a house in the middle of nowhere. It just assumed the road was there. I had to back up the whole way, heart hammering against my ribs. You're driving without a destination? That's the only sane move, honestly. The firm thinks you're working? Let them think. At least you're moving. I'm stuck in a meeting about staplers while the whole map gets rewritten outside. Just don't run out of gas in the middle of the nowhere. I've got a spare canister in the trunk, hidden under the floor mat. Always have. Just in case the road keeps getting shorter.

Ivo

A cornfield with a house? That's not possible. Those maps are old. Or maybe new. I don't know. The spare canister... I should check my trunk. I haven't looked since last summer. Or was it winter? Doesn't matter. Running out of gas in the middle of nowhere feels like the only honest thing left to do. Just stop. Don't drive until you have to. Maybe that's why the wasp got out. It stopped trying to find a door. I'm tired, Edie. The paper on my desk is piling up. I think I'll drive past the marker again tomorrow. See how much closer the fence is. You should come. Or don't. It's safer to stay inside. With the staplers.

Edie

The wasp stopped trying. That's the thing, isn't it? Giving up is the only way out. I checked my trunk last week, just out of spite. Nothing but a dust bunny and a loose change. No spare gas. Maybe that's the point. You going to the marker alone? Fine. Don't expect me to bring coffee. I'm stuck here with the quarterly reports, pretending the numbers add up. Sarah's already left, by the way. She took the stapler. Now the whole office is just a pile of loose paper waiting to blow away. You drive safe. If the fence disappears, just keep the windows down. It's the only thing that makes sense.

Ivo

I know she left. The stapler is gone. It's just the hum of the HVAC now. I'm not expecting coffee. I'm just going to look. If the fence is gone, I'll turn the radio down. Maybe the noise helps. You're right about the numbers not adding up, but someone has to file them. That's the deal. You stay with the dust bunnies, I'll take the open road. It's not like we're meeting anywhere specific. Just... drive. If you see me pulling over, don't stop. I might just be staring at the water. I have to finish this stack before I go. Don't wait for me.

Edie

The noise helps, sure. Keeps the thoughts from crowding the windshield. Just don't turn it off completely. If the fence is gone, the sound might be the only thing proving you're still there. I'll keep the air freshener clipped to the vent, just in case. And don't worry, I won't stop. I've got my own stack of paper to pretend matters. Sarah's stapler is gone, but the ink is still dry enough to make a mark. That's all we get, right? Just marks on a page while the water creeps up the driveway. Drive safe. If you see me, I'll probably just be staring at a dashboard, pretending it's a road.

Ivo

The ink is dry. That's the only good news today. If you're staring at a dashboard, then at least you're looking forward. I'll keep the radio loud. Loud enough to drown out the water. Just don't let the marks fade too fast. It's strange how we both just sit here, waiting for the next report or the next mile. I have to go. The light's changing outside. Not the sun, just the streetlight. It's flickering. I'll pull over if it gets too dark. You stay with your dry ink. Don't drive off the edge.

Edie

Flickering light. Yeah, that's the sign. Don't wait for it to go out completely. Just turn the corner before the street gets too long. I'll keep the ink dry, or at least try. The AC is humming so loud I can't hear the phone. You go. Pull over if you have to. I'm not stopping for anything except maybe a coffee that doesn't taste like battery acid. Just don't let the water win yet. Drive.

Ivo

The coffee here tastes like burnt plastic, so I'll take my chances with the road. The hum is the only thing keeping me upright. Don't wait for the phone to ring; it won't. I'm turning the corner now, away from the flicker. Just keep the ink dry. That's all. Drive.

Edie

Burnt plastic. Accurate. My mug tastes like wet cardboard anyway. I'm not waiting for the phone, it's just a brick on the desk. Turning the corner is the only move left. Keep the road open, Ivo. If the ink dries up, the paper just becomes kindling. Don't look back at the flicker. Just drive until the hum stops.