The night highway blurs past your windows in streaks of white and amber. Your dashboard is screaming — error codes you've never seen, the engine roaring like it has a mind of its own. You slam the brake pedal. Nothing. You pump it again. Still nothing. Behind you, red and blue lights strobe through your rear window. A loudspeaker cuts through the engine noise, sharp and commanding. The officer thinks you're running. You waving your hand out your car window for help with one trembling hand, eyes locked on the road ahead. You have maybe seconds to convince a stranger that you're not a criminal — you're a person trapped inside a machine that won't stop.