THE NEVER ENDING JOURNEY
The empty tram trundled along the deserted tracks, sticking rigidly to an irrelevant timetable.
At each stop, a mechanical voice would tell you where you were and wish you a good day.
The doors opened for their mandatory fifty-seven seconds and then closed. The driver, an automated robot, needed no tea breaks, nor worked any shift pattern so could continue this journey, back and to, from one end of the promenade to the other, forever.
Had he been programmed to be more aware of his surroundings he may have noticed that the human race had long ceased to exist.