The estimated time of arrival appeared. It read ‘Now’. The driver name showed as a skull and a boat.

What?

The heaviest metal music screamed through the air and shook Jasson to his shoes. Then he got a text.

im here

Jasson looked around and texted back ‘where?’.

on the street einstein

Jasson looked around. Where was the street? The road? Jasson jogged around the camp, watching as some of the soldiers stood up and looked around. It looked like some of them could hear the noise while others didn’t notice it at all. Then Jasson saw his ride.

It was a beat-up Conda Hivic with the windows rolled down. Someone had spray-painted crude flames, contrasting the real flames bursting from the tailpipe. The figure in the driving seat wore a flowing black robe with one arm hanging out the window and the other holding the steering wheel. A heavy hood obscured their face as they waved their hand at Jasson, motioning with a fleshy thumb that Jasson was to sit in the back.

“Sorry,” Jasson shouted over the music, jogging up, “Sorry about that. You’re my BlUbber, right?”

“Do you see any other cars?” The driver said, turning the music down, “Hop in. I don’t usually get requests from this world so it’s costing you extra to be standing like a wuss at death’s door.”

“Umm,” Jasson said, tentatively looking at the door handle, “It didn’t say your name on the app.”

The figure sighed and said “What? Are you gonna ‘share your location’ with your nonexistent friends? Hop in! I have other places to be that will tip more than you.”

“Oi,” Jasson said, hauling on the handle, “Why don’t you think I’ll tip well? The door’s locked by the way.”

“The door doesn’t open from the outside,” the driver said, “reach through the freaking open window. And I know you won’t tip because you’re going to the closest town Einstein. Unless you have business in-"

The driver glanced down and said "River town? Another one? Anyway, you’re almost out of money if you're headed there. Although I’m surprised you managed to summon me at all. And don’t forget to buckle up, I have a dash cam and the footage goes to the insurance company.”

Jasson did so, settling into the cigarette-burned seat as he said “Why are you surprised?”

“Usually I have people throwing golden drachmas out for service,” the driver said, “And I don’t smell any gold on you. Only 'modern' copper and nickel crap. And the paper. By the gods I will swerve to hit you if you ever try to throw paper ‘money’ to summon me.”

Jasson gulped and held up his phone, “I was just using this.”

The driver looked at it with the mirror and Jasson caught a glimpse of a shockingly green eye. Then the driver held up his own phone, surprising Jasson as they sent a text. Another smartphone in this world? Jasson’s phone dinged and he checked the message.

k

“Well I’ll be condemned,” the driver said, “A freshly reincarnated with a phone. Looks like it’s smooth sailing for you. Who did the reincarnation?”

“Uh…” Jasson said, “Kami. Kami Sama.”

The driver snorted, then put their phone down as they started to drive and said “That whelp Kami-sama? Eastern wimp. Good luck with that phone then. He doesn’t have the best grasp of technology, although he tends to enjoy overpowering people.”

Jasson nodded. The driver pulled his other hand in…which was wearing a rather convincing glove with a bone design. Jasson stared, he could see straight through the hand. Too convincing.

Who drives BlUbber in a fantasy world?

“Who are you?” Jasson said as the car jolted forward, “Kami looked ancient but you called him a whelp? That means young right? You're older?”

The driver sighed and said “Kami looks older doesn’t he? He just forgets to moisturize. Since we’re moving, and you can’t jump out of the car, I might as well introduce myself.”

The driver lowered his hood, exposing a handsome human head and an eternal grin. Except portions of the head were bone white skull. No rotting, merely healthy pink flesh on one part and thousand-year-old bleached bone on the other.

“My name’s Charon,” the driver said, “I’m the Ferryman of the Dead, the one who bridges life and death, the one to whom you pay the Toll."

Fire blazed in the empty eye socket as Charon's eyes met Jasson's.

Then Charon said, "I will be your ride for tonight and all the days you have upon this world.”

Chills ran down Jasson's spine and inspired gluteal terror. In a situation that merited silence (or perhaps bitter wails), Jasson felt that he had to say something. It is an unfortunate fact of man that dramatic silence never lasts.

Since there was little else Jasson could say he asked “Why?”

Charon grinned wider, an expression he was well suited for, and said “Why what? Why am I you’re only ride? It’s not because you’re dying soon, I’m the only one that services this world. Or is it why am I doing this at all?”

“At all,” Jasson said, sweating, “And why in a Hivic?”

“Well,” Charon said, “two pennies on the eyes of the dead doesn’t pay like the old pharaohs used to. I’m saving up for a better car though. Of course, in this market, I have a lot longer to go. I'm going for a Baguti Vayron. Or maybe a rare Farerri.”

The Ferryman of the Dead laughed, a sound that made Jasson deeply uncomfortable.

Then Charon said "Un-Life goals, right? Those cars are over a million dollars each. But I charge what I want so it's only a matter of time. Oddly enough, I’ve never had someone try to skip on the bill."