His first stop was at the edge of the Falkensee district. A handful of commuters huddled in the cold, their breath blooming like white ghosts in the air. Among them was Frau Schmidt, a regular who always sat directly behind the driver’s seat.

The rain started halfway through the loop. It wasn't a downpour, just a persistent drizzle that made the cobblestones slick. Elias flipped the wipers on, the rhythmic thump-thump adding to the mechanical symphony of the bus. He lowered his speed, feeling the tires momentarily lose their grip on a particularly greasy patch of road.

"Morning, Elias. Right on time, as always," she chirped, dropping her coins into the fare box.

The simulation of his life felt hyper-realistic today. He could feel the resistance in the pedals and the way the chassis swayed when he took a corner too sharply. On his dashboard, the IBIS system flickered with the next stop: Galenstraße.