"Order the Uber," Mark said. "And tomorrow, send me the link for that thing. I think it’s time I bought my own."

The neon sign above "The Rusty Anchor" flickered, casting a rhythmic red glow over the sidewalk where Mark stood, fumbling with his keys. It had been a long night of celebrating his promotion, and while he felt "fine," the three craft IPAs and a celebratory whiskey neat were whispering a different story.

She handed him the BACtrack S80, a model she had researched for weeks before buying. "I checked the reviews on Best Buy and expert guides," she explained. "This one uses pro-grade fuel cell sensors—the same stuff the police use. It’s way more reliable than those cheap keychain versions that use semi-conductors."