Faster

by Alex Schuler

  “It was,” Harry interrupted. He walked a few feet away to watch Steve drive off. “That was him! That was Steve Wozniak. The Woz!”

  “And even he didn’t get your dumb joke.” Ted put a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You need some new material, Harry. And all of us need to get to the tent. Lori and I can head over now. You and Nico finish prepping Cyclops. You can get the final data updates from the team inside the semi. The competition is about to start.”

  ***

  Rusty stared at his watch—a few minutes before four—as he paced back and forth in front of the DSU team table. The last seven hours had been filled with much drama, none of it from his team. Cyclops was still on deck, waiting to enter the competition. DSU was fourth in line, and it had taken seven hours for the prior three vehicles to perform. The third entrant was still on the course. DARPA did not have time limits for the Qualification Stage, and so far, the teams had taken full advantage.

  DARPA had spared no expense with the FAST Challenge event. The main operations tent was a climate-controlled shelter spanning 40,000 square feet. Portable generators ran air conditioners that helped keep the interior at a comfortable seventy-five degrees. Each of the forty teams had two tables with anywhere from one to four workstations, depending on the size of the team. The tables all faced the main stage, where the DARPA personnel, in communication and coordination with key members from each team, were set up. Four huge overhead screens filled the area above the stage. One screen served as the leaderboard, showing the results of each contestant. Two other screens streamed live camera feeds from the DARPA pursuit vehicles. DARPA had both ground and air support monitoring the competition. The last display was from a small camera placed inside the vehicle currently competing to provide a “behind-the-wheel” view to the audience.

  This DARPA-supplied point-of-view (POV) camera proved to be a huge point of contention for the participants. Most teams did not want the added tech in their vehicles, fearing it would interfere with their vehicle’s performance. DARPA provided each team the choice of opting out of using the camera if they determined it would introduce risk into the system. DSU, after a much-heated debate, agreed to install the system.

  “We may not get to run today.” Rusty stopped in front of Harry. “Have you been taking notes on the errors these other teams have made?”

  “Of course,” Harry replied. “We can run through some simulations tonight to make sure Cyclops won’t get tripped up.”

  Only two teams had completed the course so far: Oshkosh Defense and Berkeley. Rusty was still in shock that Berkeley’s motorcycle, dubbed Easy Rider, had performed so well. He looked up at the screen to watch Gator once again attempt a three-point turn. Gator was a heavily retro-fitted 1998 Mitsubishi Montero SUV run by Florida Gulf Technical College. They were a small team of only three people. Gator had been on the course since just past noon and had suffered numerous setbacks. The course itself was having problems of its own, with the desert winds sometimes blowing cones and other markers out of position. Rusty hoped DARPA would fix these issues before Cyclops ran the course tomorrow.

  Between the four screens was a huge digital clock above a series of lights—red, yellow, and green. The color of the light indicated the status of the current competitor. Florida Gulf had obviously opted to include the internal DARPA camera inside their vehicle. The status light changed to green, and all eyes under the big top shifted to the screen on the far left.

  Gator once again started his three-point-turn attempt. As with most of the turns in the nasty nine, this was no ordinary three-pointer. DARPA had constructed a series of barriers made of concrete blocks, cars, cones, posts, and poles. A human could easily differentiate between these and find the proper spot to make the turn. Gator was having a difficult time.

  The POV screen showed Gator driving into the dead-end area and coming to a halt. After several seconds, the SUV went into reverse and slowly turned ninety degrees. It came to a stop, pulled forward, and stopped again. Several seconds passed. A murmur built throughout the tent, as those watching were trying to figure out what the autonomous vehicle was doing. Cheers erupted from the Florida Gulf table as Gator performed another ninety-degree reverse turn and stopped. The joy proved to be short-lived.

  “No!” The cry came out from one of the young men at the Gator table. His two teammates peered over his shoulder at his monitor, then looked at the overhead screen. Gator was moving forward—rapidly. “We’ve lost GPS!” They shouted.

  The bottom of the screen showing the POV from Gator also revealed its speed. The SUV was accelerating past thirty miles per hour and not slowing down.

  “Florida Gulf, control your vehicle.” The monotone male voice crackled through the overhead speakers. It came from a DARPA technician somewhere at the front of the room. “You have five seconds to comply.”

  DARPA had required mandatory secondary kill switches in addition to the optional internal camera within each vehicle. Although each team had remote controls to disable the vehicle, DARPA had installed military-spec equipment that would basically blow the brains of any entrant that malfunctioned.

  “Oh, my God,” Lori said softly as she stood up from her chair. “It’s heading toward the bleachers.”

  A set of bleachers stood next to the first of the nine tests. The covered seating was reserved for VIP guests and the press. DARPA had advertised the event heavily, and the bleachers were fairly full, but not packed.

  Gator was now up to forty miles per hour and closing in on the seating area. A mass of gasps and shrieks arose, as those who had been seated began running every which way. Rusty looked over at the Florida Gulf table and wondered why they hadn’t hit the kill switch.

  “It won’t stop!” The leader of the Florida Gulf team smashed his fists onto his keyboard. “Kill it! Kill it!”

  The screen displaying the view inside Gator showed the vehicle’s speed begin to slow. The image gradually became murky as the SUV’s cabin filled with smoke. You could still see the bleachers through the haze as the Montero crashed into the front corner of the seating area. Luckily, it had been reinforced with concrete barriers and sandbags. The interior image, now sideways and cockeyed, remained up after the vehicle finally came to a halt, the bottom three rows of the bleachers on screen. A reporter from Wired magazine walked up, looked inside the vehicle, and started laughing.

  “DSU, prepare your vehicle.” The monotone voice from DARPA once again crackled overhead. “You have ten minutes.”

  The message through the loudspeakers stunned Rusty. He turned and looked at the two DSU tables. Ted, Nico, Harry, and Lori all seemed to be in shock. The rest of the DSU team was back in the semi-truck. Rusty stood between the two tables and folded his arms.

  “You heard the man,” Rusty said. “What are you waiting for?”

  Nico and Harry jumped from their seats and ran toward the exit. Ted slid his chair closer to Lori so he could better see her monitor. As he did, he looked up to notice Sam Lavoie approaching. She was with two other people from Ashton. Rusty realized Ted was distracted and spun around to see who he was watching.

  “Rusty, you old dog.” Vin Malik walked up to his old mentor and shook his hand enthusiastically. Speaking with a faint Indian accent, he said, “It’s so good to see you again.”

  “Vin!” Rusty replied. “You’re looking fit as always.”

  Vin was a slender man. With almost delicate features, his tawny skin was flawless, and his teeth, almost unnaturally white. He spoke with an upbeat optimism and smooth delivery and seemed to never suffer a loss for words nor a lack of confidence. His dark hair was gelled back and collar-length. He and the rest of the Ashton team were decked out in royal blue Polo shirts sporting the Ashton University logo.

  “We just wanted to come by and wish your team luck. These are truly exciting times, aren’t they?” Vin stepped to the side and motioned toward Sam. “My team tells
me you’ve done wonders with your lidar array.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing how it performs today,” Sam said. She shook Rusty’s hand. “Sam Lavoie. Software lead.”

  “Nice to meet you. Wait. You’re Sam?” Rusty turned and looked down at Ted. Ted was refusing to acknowledge their conversation and instead was scrolling through the songs on his iPod. “Well, I can honestly say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sam. Vin only works with the best people. I’m sure Ashton has come fully prepared to win this event.”

  “Indeed, we have my friend.” Vin pointed to the overhead screen that was still displaying the view from Gator. The smoke had cleared, and the faces of the Florida Gulf team members could be seen peering into the windshield. “Let’s hope we both fare better than others. Take care.”

  Rusty briefly watched Vin and his people head back to their table. Once they were out of earshot, he turned and looked down at Ted, “I hear Ashton built a digital gimbal. I told you we had to watch out for them.” Rusty looked up at the clock at the front of the tent. “Ted, go outside and check on Harry and Nico. Lori, let the rest of the team know we are about to start. The last thing I want is to see Cyclops go wild and run down a bunch of spectators.”

  ***

  During the next forty minutes, the 322 people inside the big top sat in near silence watching Cyclops run through the first four of the nasty nine tests. The Humvee nailed each test on the first try. The only noise inside the tent came from the DSU team as they erupted in cheers at the end of each test. Everyone, that is, except Rusty. Rusty barely moved, standing and facing the POV screen, hands clasped behind his back. He never spoke. He never moved. He knew they still had a long way to go before they could cry victory.

  The next test required Cyclops to ascend a forty-five-degree incline and make an immediate sharp right turn at the top of the hill. There were no barriers to prevent it from continuing forward once it crested the peak. This test was designed to assess the vehicle’s ability to understand changes in elevation in relation to winding roads without barriers. Cyclops accelerated up the hill briskly and then slowed as it reached the top. The Humvee drove past its intended turn and went down the other side of the embankment. After several feet, it came to a stop.

  Rusty spun around and clenched his hands into two tight fists, his knuckles turning white from the blood draining away. He glared at Nico, then Harry, and finally Ted.

  “Is this a mapping issue?” Rusty kept his eyes on Ted, despite the question being meant for Lori.

  “I’m . . . I’m not sure.” Lori scanned through the data on her computer screen. “No. I’m good.”

  Harry, Nico, and Ted were frantically surfing through the information on their computers. Despite the cool temperature inside the big top, Harry began sweating profusely. He grabbed one of his bandanas and dabbed the beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck.

  “It looks like we’re blind,” Harry said. “But I don’t know why.”

  Rusty leaned forward, resting his fists on the table between the monitors Nico and Ted were using. His breathing was controlled and rhythmic. The minor conversations occurring throughout the operations center sounded miles away. Rusty’s eyes ping-ponged back and forth between Nico and Ted, waiting for one of them to respond.

  “It’s the gimbal,” Nico finally said. “It looks like it’s locked. I have no idea why. Cyclops is confused.”

  “The gimbal.” Rusty sat on the edge of the table, twisting his body to face Ted. “Your magic gimbal, Ted. Are you telling me we have you to blame for this failure?”

  “We’ve got two more tries.” Ted rolled his chair back and stood up. “I’ve taken Cyclops offline. Nico and I can go out there and fix it.”

  “You realize we only get three shots at each of these tests, right?”

  “I know.”

  “You two better pray that miracle gimbal and lidar don’t prove to be our downfall.” Rusty stood up and glared at Nico. “Go work with DARPA ops so they can get you to Cyclops. Don’t come back unless you are willing to bet your lives it will work the second time.”

  It took Ted and Nico only twenty minutes to get Cyclops sorted out. The Hummer completed test number five on the second pass. The next three tests proved to be a mixed bag, with Cyclops stumbling on two of them. Luckily, the team was able to correct the issues remotely. The overhead clock showed the time to be 6:17 p.m. Cyclops and DSU had one final test to go.

  “We are a go for number nine.” The voice of the DARPA technician crackled throughout the tent’s speakers.

  Despite the late hour, every other team member had remained on site. Even with the handful of re-runs, Cyclops was performing far better than any other contestant so far. The other teams were busy documenting where and how Cyclops failed so they could go back tonight and make any changes necessary for their future runs over the next few days.

  All eyes were glued to the POV camera. The last test of the nasty nine was the slalom course run with the ruts and what DARPA called “water hazards” which were a series of puddles of undisclosed depth. Based on what they saw with those vehicles before them, the DSU team estimated the puddles ranging from two to six inches deep. Contestants were required to maintain a speed of at least fifteen miles per hour.

  Two sets of traffic cones marked the entrance to the slalom. Cyclops entered the course going twenty-five miles per hour. There were twelve gates to maneuver through, half with the water hazards, and four with deep ruts. Only two gates—the first and last—were smooth. Shortly after passing the fourth gate, Cyclops took the next turn wide, crushing the traffic cone delineating the edge of the gate.

  “Failure number one.” The announcement seemed deafening as it echoed throughout the tent.

  Rusty turned his attention from the screens, once again setting a menacing glare upon Lori, Harry, Nico, and Ted. Each of the four could feel his anger, frustration, and disappointment. Rusty folded his arms across his broad chest and waited, maintaining his focus on his team despite the many stares directed his way from around the tent.

  “I’ve got it,” Harry said. “We need to slow him down. I’m bringing him down to fifteen. That’s the minimum to pass the test. He should—”

  “He should be able to go faster,” Ted said. “Set him for twenty.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Completely.”

  Harry quickly banged out the corrections needed to adjust Cyclops’s software. It took him less than ten minutes to complete the change and transmit it to the vehicle. When finished, Harry stood up and nodded toward the DARPA operations group at the front of the tent. The row of lights changed from yellow to green.

  “DSU, begin your second run.”

  Rusty did not bother to turn around to watch the POV monitor. Instead, he shifted his gaze repeatedly from Ted to the rest of the team members. Lori kept her eyes glued to the giant screen showing Cyclops’s progress. Harry and Nico nervously looked between the front monitors and Rusty. Ted kept his eyes locked on Rusty. Eventually, Rusty stopped looking at the other three and focused on Ted. They stared at each other for less than ten seconds before the overhead speakers crackled to life.

  “Failure number two.”

  Rusty’s facial expression did not change. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harry and Nico frantically scanning through information on their computer screens. Rusty kept his anger focused on Ted. It was a game of chicken. A game Rusty knew he would win. Ted blinked a few times before slowly lowering his head.

  “Harry,” Rusty said as he continued to stare at Ted. “Set the speed to fifteen.”

  It took another ten minutes for Harry to compile and transmit the changes to Cyclops. Rusty stomped off, spending that time at the Ashton table chatting with Vin. The two men could be heard loudly laughing as they shared memories from when they were together at DSU. Rusty kept his eyes fixated on his team most of t
he time he was talking with Vin. As soon as he saw Harry stand up and point toward the DARPA control group, he shook hands with his good friend and wished him well, returning to the DSU table just as the overhead speakers erupted.

  “DSU, begin your final run.”

  Rusty positioned himself behind the DSU table, standing directly between Nico and Ted. With his hands clasped behind his back, he directed his attention to the POV monitor. For the first time since the event had begun, Rusty found himself feeling nervous. Although he wouldn’t admit it to the team, Rusty thought Cyclops had performed brilliantly until this final test. Yet, here they were on the final test with only one more chance to go.

  The inside of the big top was eerily quiet as Cyclops started his run, the only sound the whir of the industrial cooling fans at the back of the tent. Everyone watching could see that the Humvee was being much more cautious this time around in its approach. Harry had throttled back the acceleration so that Cyclops entered the course at exactly fifteen miles per hour.

  All eyes watched as the big Humvee slowly glided from gate to gate. Turn four was the one that had tripped up Cyclops during the first two attempts. Ted and Nico remained motionless as the Hummer effortlessly made the turn and headed toward the next gate.

  “Yes!” Harry cried as he leaped from his chair.

  The rest of the DSU team remained quiet and seated. Harry stayed standing. Rusty worked his way to the front of the table, his back toward his team. His eyes remained fixed on the POV screen. As Cyclops passed the tenth gate, Lori stood up. There were only two gates to go. Gate eleven proved to be the most difficult. The water hazard’s depth varied between four and eight inches—slightly beyond what DSU had estimated. Cyclops took the turn wide, clipping the outer edge of the puddle, but the vehicle quickly corrected itself to remain inside the cones. Ted and Nico were now on their feet. The last gate was a smooth section of silty desert sand, with no ruts or puddles to trip up the vehicle. Cyclops threaded the cones right down the middle and exited the slalom.