Clover is just me, so instead I’m gonna talk a little more about Gen.
Sometime in the next 20 years, Terrans stopped trying to build self-driving commuter cars and instead shifted their focus over to the long-haul trucking industry. Interstate hauling is now handled by fully-autonomous electric vehicles — semis with a bunch of computers and energy cells shoved inside the cabin, leaving no room for a driver. However, these are still vehicles and still prone to mechanical or computer failures, leaky tires, energy depletion, etc.. And out in the middle of nowhere, in all hours of the night, someone still has to get the show back on the road.
Gen Antilles is the son of a son of a Midwestern farmer and spent his teenaged years fixing tractors, tinkering with electronics (he still owns a Zune, but the only music on it is The Killers’s Hot Fuss and Day & Age), and dreaming of the stars. The clandestine facilities purpose-built as self-driving-truck stops, technologically a hundred years ahead of their immediate rural surroundings, called to him with their grey-on-beige lunar-outpost charm and the lack of external light pollution. Gen works alone, overnights, so far removed from the Earth and its sun that you might mistake him for an astronaut.
And Gen is in way over his head.