Rogue Autonomous

by Rahul Bhagat

  Dean changed his demeanor. “Okay, Paige, leave now. I have to finish my meeting. You’re not having your birthday on the moon.”

  “Nooo…” Paige protested with a high-pitched wail. But her fretting, throwing tantrums had no effect on Dean.

  She stormed out of the room. Ms. Marse followed close behind her, trying to calm her down.

  Outside in the driveway, there were two AVs. Paige hesitated for a moment then turned left toward the bigger, more expensive black vehicle. She climbed inside and said, “Ms. Marse, let’s go.”

  Ms. Marse hesitated but only for a second. Student-teacher relations were a little different when the student was a billionaire. “Let me get my bag,” Ms. Marse said. She retrieved her bag from the other vehicle and followed Paige inside the luxurious AV.

  Dean stood at a window and watched them drive away. A red-and-black beetle flew in and sat on the window ledge. He took the goblet in his hand and slowly crushed the insect with the base of the glass.

  FOUR

  MOMENTS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

  The Traffic Response Emergency Center (TREC) was staffed and managed by the police department. It was responsible for monitoring traffic flow and coordinating response to emergency situations like accidents. So it was only natural that TREC had ended up under the police. But the agency was treated like a stepchild and reluctantly managed. The department barely paid any attention to it from a budget perspective or a staffing perspective. Cops cursed their luck if they were assigned to TREC and counted the days when they would be relieved of their responsibilities. The place was known to be a morale killer and had seen many resignations.

  As was customary for new recruits, officer Padma Laxmi was assigned the night shift at TREC. She was bored and having difficulty keeping awake. So she got up from the monitoring station and decided to go outside for a walk, hoping the fresh air would wake her up. She was young, full of hope, and wanted to build a successful career as a cop. A long night was ahead of her, and it would look very bad if she were caught sleeping on the job.

  The latter part of the twenty-first century had become a transportation utopia. There were no horns, smoke, or parking lots. Almost all the highways and city streets were exclusively for autonomous vehicles, and traffic flowed as smoothly as silk. This seamless movement of vehicles was made possible by fire-hydrant-like white pillars dotted along streets and tunnels. These were traffic sentinels, AI-powered traffic control and surveillance systems with cameras, radars, and wireless networks. They monitored AV behavior and speed and had the power to disable errant vehicles. Together, they formed a network of digital traffic cops that autonomously regulated the traffic.

  But the entire operation was still firmly under the thumb of humans—or to be more specific, under the thumb of Officer Padma Laxmi on this particular night. Law was law; autonomous systems had to be always under the supervision of humans. So even though TREC didn’t need any humans to operate, there was a monitoring station, and it was always staffed by a police officer.

  Padma Laxmi came back inside and slouched at her monitoring station. She started dreaming of a guy she had met the weekend before. She thought there was chemistry between them, so it was a real surprise when he didn’t ask her for her number. Why? The question tortured her. She really liked him and wondered if she should go back to the club this weekend. Maybe he would be there.

  Her eyes became heavy, and without realizing when, she drifted into another world.

  The TREC AI registered a disaster signal from one of the traffic sentinels. It reviewed the information, and it looked as if a rare event had occurred—human fatality in traffic accident.

  TREC AI called out to its human supervisor, “Officer Laxmi. We have an emergency.”

  There was no response from Officer Laxmi. She was fast asleep.

  TREC AI ran through its algorithm. Is there a human supervisor present? Yes. Is the human supervisor alive? Yes. Is the human supervisor capable of making rational decisions? Now that was suspect. The human supervisor was in atonia, a state of paralysis induced by sleep. Should the AI override human supervision? Tick tock, tick tock. Femtoseconds passed by. TREC AI was in a tough situation.

  But this was an AI wise in human behavior. Its creators had trained it on fifty million hours of uncurated footage of TV shows. It knew a lot about Homo sapiens and the maelstrom it would cause if a decision was made without human authorization. More femtoseconds passed while TREC AI considered alternatives.

  In the supply closet, a cleaner bot woke up from its slumber. It was not done charging, and this was not the time for vacuuming. But it had received instructions from TREC AI to wake up and undertake an unusual assignment. The bot whirred into motion and emerged from the closet. It traveled down the hallway toward the monitoring station with great speed. Once inside, it went straight to the sleeping officer and bumped into her.

  Officer Laxmi woke with a start. It took her a moment to realize what had happened, then she lashed out at the metal box. “What the hell is this? You crazy, stupid bot.”

  The cleaner bot backed away immediately. “Apologies. Apologies,” it said in quick succession.

  “Officer Laxmi,” TREC AI intervened. “There has been an accident.”

  “What? Where? Accident.” Laxmi was still groggy with sleep.

  “Yes, ma’am. I believe there is a strong probability of human fatality.”

  Laxmi was fully awake now. “Do we have any video footage?”

  The AI played a video from the traffic sentinel on her monitor. The footage didn’t have a good view as it was obstructed by a tree branch, but she could see a black AV emerge from a tunnel, hit the guardrail at high speed, and flip in the air. Mouth agape, Laxmi felt her heart race.

  “Shit. How did this happen?” she scrambled to her feet.

  “I can’t trigger emergency response without your permission, Officer Laxmi,” TREC AI said. “Do I have—”

  Laxmi cut if off. “Yes, yes. Activate emergency response. Send rescue, ambulance. I’m leaving too.”

  FIVE

  PADMA LAXMI TOOK an elevator to the basement of TREC, where her standard-issue AV was parked. She hated it. It was a big ugly box, an office on wheels, really. Its interior was bland, some depressing shade of grey, and it was divided into two sections. On the left side there were two workstations facing each other, and on the other side were a kitchenette and cell for holding criminals.

  She sat heavily in one of the chairs, and the vehicle started to move. It already had the destination from TREC AI. Laxmi felt nervous. She was new, and she didn’t feel confident enough handling the situation all by herself. TREC AI had said that there was a high probability of fatality. What was she going to do? This was not the plan. Her boss had said that it would be a breeze—just look over some computers and let the AI do its job. Now she was supposed to be supervising a crash? With probably someone dead inside. What if she messed it up?

  After traveling for a while, the AV emerged on a surface road. They were outside the metropolitan area, into a reforestation zone, the site of an abandoned suburban town. The moon hung low in the sky, like a bright disk, and cast a ghostly pall over the landscape.

  Since most of humanity had congregated into anthill-like megacities, open space had become a rare commodity in the cities. Before long, surface roads started looking like a wastage of invaluable land, and they disappeared into tunnels, overhead and underground. It was a real treat to look outside and see that large celestial body and the desolate landscape.

  After crossing the abandoned suburbia, the vehicle headed southwest toward the rocky landscape of the Appalachian mountain range.

  Laxmi looked outside. The highway was thick with bright headlights. The broad adoption of autonomous vehicles had also caused a shift toward late-night traveling. A lot of people preferred traveling while they slept. For them, bedtime was synonymous with long-distance traveling.

  She recalled her dad telling her that in his days, AVs were manua
lly operated, and the seats were cramped and front facing like in a bobsled. There was no room to move, and people spent hours sitting like that. Laxmi shuddered. That seemed like pure torture. She was happy to have been born in this age and time.

  Laxmi felt the tug of the swerving vehicle. It had left the interstate and moved to a mountainous regional highway. The road became snaky and curvy as it picked its way through crags and crevices. She looked down at the map on the screen; she was close to the accident site.

  The AV entered a dark tunnel. Laxmi looked at the lights on the wall and noticed thick grime covering the casings. Her vehicle emerged on the other side of the tunnel and pulled next to the curb where the road turned sharply and the guardrail was all twisted and broken. She got up and tried to open the door, but the lock didn’t disengage.

  Annoyed, she rattled the door handle and said, “Delta 2, unlock the door.”

  “Not advisable,” the vehicle replied. “The curb is narrow. Please wait for perimeter setup.”

  Laxmi sat down and exhaled loudly. Sometimes, she felt like a prisoner of the machines.

  Delta 2 established contact with the traffic sentinels and placed a request for perimeter setup. Two hundred feet behind and in front of Laxmi’s vehicle, the outside lane became inaccessible to traffic. Oncoming traffic automatically switched over to the inside lane as they passed by.

  “Officer Laxmi. You can disembark now,” Delta 2 said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Laxmi said and stepped out of the vehicle.

  It was darker and colder. She looked up in the sky, but the moon was nowhere to be seen. It was obscured by thick clouds. A strong cold wind made her shiver, and she went back in to retrieve her bomber jacket. Warmly cocooned, she stepped outside and walked to the front of the vehicle, where the headlights were lighting up a tree trunk. Moist air from her breath condensed and created white eddies. She rubbed her hands to warm them up. Her fingers had started to feel numb, and she hesitated for a moment, deciding whether to go back for gloves.

  She decided against it and thrust her hands in her coat pockets. Then she stepped to the edge of the ravine and gingerly looked down into the abyss. It was dark down there.

  The beam from her flashlight swept across the ravine and caught something down at the bottom. It was a black AV, upside down. It had landed on its head and smashed on the rocks. The glass window was still intact but had turned into a spiderweb of cracks.

  Laxmi went back to the vehicle and picked up her gloves.

  “Delta 2. Release a daylight drone,” she said. A small drone appeared overhead and cast a bright white light around her. Laxmi walked purposefully and hopped over the guardrail. She started moving down in the ravine, but her speed was slowed by a slippery, rock-strewn landscape.

  There was no wind at the bottom, and a sharp acetone smell of burning battery lingered in the air. She approached the vehicle gingerly. The last thing she wanted was to have the AV blow up in her face. But it looked safe; there was no smoke. Laxmi took out her flashlight and directed its beam inside the vehicle. She caught a smashed-in, bloody face of a young girl staring outside. The blood had congealed into maroon patches around the girl’s still eyes. Laxmi recoiled, slipped on a pebble, and fell down on a thick bed of wet leaves. She cursed softly but then composed herself and got up.

  The other side of the vehicle appeared to be in better shape. One of the windows was still intact, and inside there was another body, an older woman.

  Laxmi stood up and let out a deep breath. Exhaled clouds swirled in the air and vanished. She was having second thoughts about this job and wondered if she had the stomach for it. Turning toward the highway, she started climbing up. The drone with daylight followed obediently overhead.

  SIX

  THE HIGHWAY WAS a whole different scene when Laxmi emerged from the ravine. The entire ravine side of the highway was blocked. A nonstop stream of AVs passed single file on the other side of the barrier, their speed greatly diminished. There were police vehicles, ambulances, and fire trucks scattered around. Their blue and red lights reflected off the wet highway and created a kaleidoscopic effect.

  A tall, well-built man, his hair swept back, appeared in front of Laxmi out of nowhere.

  “Charlie Doud, the IIC.” The man extended his hand. He sounded like someone of authority and was standing too close for comfort.

  Laxmi took a step back and gave him an evaluating look before introducing herself. He was lean and muscular, probably knew martial arts, and wore a long brown overcoat. He also sported a thin goatee.

  “Officer Laxmi, this is an NTSB investigation,” Charlie said. “But you are free to stay. You might learn things they don’t teach you at the police academy,” he added with a chuckle.

  Laxmi didn’t respond, but she was surprised that he knew she was a new recruit. He peppered her with questions about the wreckage, the bodies, when she’d gotten there, and whether she’d touched anything. She felt overwhelmed and annoyed.

  “No, I didn’t touch anything,” she said testily and stared back at Charlie with a frown.

  Charlie squinted and evaluated her for a second. Then he relaxed and smiled. “Good,” he said and turned to the guy next to him. “Send a group down there to prep the area.”

  He looked back at Laxmi and said, “This entire operation is my responsibility, but we always work closely with the local police department. Stick around; I’ll show you the drill.”

  Laxmi nodded and accepted the olive branch.

  Charlie looked at a group of men gathered nearby and clapped his hands to get their attention. “Get a drone in the air. I need a 3-D wireframe of the entire site. From here all the way down to the wreckage. Make sure it’s detailed to the micron level at the point of initial braking, the site of impact, and the site of rest.”

  The men scattered immediately.

  Charlie indicated for Laxmi to follow him. The guy next to him tagged along, as well, and they walked toward the tunnel. When he reached the skid marks, Charlie stopped and got down on his haunches. He tapped on the ground and looked up. Laxmi and the other guy followed suit and squatted beside him.

  “Area of initial brake.” He pointed at a spot on the ground where the skid marks had started. “You see the deep marks; you can almost lift rubber off the ground. The wheels were turned sideways. This AV was desperate to stop.”

  Laxmi nodded and took a closer look at the skid marks.

  “Where is Bruno?” Charlie asked suddenly. “Where is Rick Bruno, Mr. Certified Crash Re-constructionist? Tell him to haul his ass over here. I need him to run a skid test.”

  Bruno was radioed, and he showed up shortly. He was a heavyset man, and he was out of breath. His mouth puffed like a steam engine. “Mr. Doud, were you looking for me?”

  “I was,” Charlie said. “Are you preparing to run a skid test?”

  Bruno nodded.

  “Good. But make sure you test under similar conditions. It’s best if it’s done at the same time when the accident happened. And I need your analysis by Monday. Include all parameters—vehicle rotation, deceleration, etcetera, etcetera.”

  “Will do,” Bruno said.

  “Come with me,” Charlie said to Laxmi and started walking toward the ravine. “Skid test is done to determine the coefficient of friction. Could the accident have happened because of slippery conditions?” He looked at Laxmi. “The board will definitely demand that answer,” he said.

  A group had gathered at the spot where the AV had hit the guardrail and catapulted into the air. Charlie and Laxmi joined them. Charlie looked down into the ravine and, like a sage revealing his thoughts, said to no one in particular, “What was it? A mechanical failure? Tire malfunction? Computer gone crazy?” He turned toward the group. “I need a map of the debris field, an inventory of interior damage, and occupant kinetics.”

  Laxmi suddenly recalled that she had to prepare an incidence report for TREC and provide a similar update to the police chief in the morning. There were still
a few more hours before the workday began. She excused herself and went back to her AV to work on the report and maybe catch a nap before calling the chief’s office. She figured it would make a better impression if she reported from the site.

  SEVEN

  “WHAT AM I hearing? A vehicle crashed?” Detective Martin Stump looked inside the police chief’s office.

  “That’s right.” Police Chief Robert Blair waved him to come inside.

  Martin stepped inside and closed the door behind him. While Martin tried to make himself comfortable in the visitor chair, Chief Blair went over to the cabinet behind him. Martin never liked the chairs; they were awkwardly designed. If he stretched his legs, he tended to slip out of his seat.

  Blair came back with two shots of whiskey. They clicked their glasses and settled down. Martin had worked for him for decades, and they were old buddies. They didn’t see anything wrong with sharing a drink in the office, even early in the morning.

  “So what happened?” Martin wanted to know more. This was big news. It wasn’t like AV accidents happened every day.

  “I don’t know yet,” Blair said. “I’m expecting a call any moment now.”

  “How’s your dad?” Martin asked. “You had mentioned he was going to have a major reconstructive hip surgery.”

  “Yes, he got that done recently,” Blair said. “He’s fine, just being a demanding old man.”

  “In what sense?”

  “We’ve had to replace his CareBot five times, and he’s still not happy. You wanna know why?” Blair leaned forward.

  “Why?”

  “Because none of them wipe his ass clean enough.”

  The men doubled over with laughter.