Pilot

"Ten years on this road, my its took its toll." sighed General Specific putting down the tattered newspaper. It could have been twenty, it could have been two, they would still be lost. The bus seemed to be healthy as a horse, which wasn't very good for a bus, especially after being on the road since really really early morning on a bright bright sunny day, long long ago. Often it rattled and shook or went into a deep meditative silence as if contemplating its next course of action, the driver left at its mercy for once. But inevitably, it would let out a friendly reassuring purr. The strange part was that no one seemed to blame the driver for the literal lack of position on the issue. Nomads they were.

It was on old bus. No one remembered what it looked like on the outside and it didn't matter. The air conditioning seemed to be breaking down and the upholstery was losing its softness but no one looked a day older then when they had started. Atleast that's what they all thought. Only General Specific had a picture of himself from before. The tinted glasses let in a few, much-desired, rays of sunlight at spots, which felt good. But every now and then someone would wake up red and a heated discussion would ensue on whether it needed fixing.

They often passed other people and cars would often whiz by, even cities had been crossed. The old and wise Inner Shia exercised a powerful influence over the residents, he never preached religion and as a consequence would always make sense. No one had gotten off yet, and wouldn't have gotten off even if he wasn't around, everyone just liked listening to the mild old man. The longest experience anyone amongst them had had was life.