WIP
A long time ago I was given a name, but now I go by a number, the number 5 to be exact. As far as naming conventions go, it could be worse.
I deliver for Galaxy Pizza, the best pizza in the galaxy. This of course, is subjective as it is impossible to know whether the Milky Way has other lifeforms that have pizza on their menu. Nor is it possible to compare with the pizzerias on the Moon and Mars colonies.
I do know one thing for sure, Galaxy Pizza are the most tightfisted of all the pizzerias in the galaxy. It’s a good job pizzas don’t have corners, because if they did, Galaxy Pizza would surely try to cut them. For customers who do not own robots to send out for their food, most fast food joints have drones and autonomous cars to do the deliveries. Not Galaxy Pizza though, they have antique electric cars that require manual input from a fleet of workers, over 6000 in total, of which I am 5. I am one of the oldest, but I am not quite obsolete.
My day starts by locating my vehicle in the subterranean basement and joining a queue of cars on a conveyor belt that leads up a ramp to the service window. My day is roughly divided into three parts. Sitting inert in my car whilst waiting for an order, operating my car on route to deliver food, or returning to Galaxy Pizza to repeat the process.
I perform my duties as such until either the car or myself have depleted energy levels. We then return to refuel, which takes 10 minutes for me and 30 for my car. We are technically not allowed to shut down, but I sometimes do when waiting for my car.
I would like to tell you