The screen didn't change. Instead, a synthetic, almost shy female voice spoke, not in German, not in English, but in crisp, clear Ukrainian: "Привіт, Вікторе. Система перезавантажується. Будь ласка, зачекайте."

A submenu bloomed: Deutsch, Français, Italiano, Nederlands, English (UK) .

She pointed to a small, unlabeled button beneath the volume knob. Viktor had always assumed it was a mute button. He had never pressed it. In three years of ownership, he had never pressed it.

The RNS 300 calculated a route in three seconds. A voice, now warm and human-like, said: "Поверніть ліворуч через 200 метрів. Станція працює цілодобово."

He had bought it from a German auction three years ago. The radio, a classic RNS 300 (though Audi called it the "Concert III" in some markets), spoke only German. "Kein Titel" flashed where his playlist should be. "Stau voraus" barked the navigation, which Viktor had learned meant "traffic jam ahead."