Benjamen Walker's Theory of Everything - pass (r)

Episode Date: August 16, 2016

Your host dreams the future of Self Driving Cars.

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Episodes every other week at neverpo.st and wherever you find pods. This installment is called Pass. The other day, I got beat up by a couple of self-driving cars. The gendarme swiped road rage on his incident pad. I could tell he thought it was funny. I could tell he thought the whole thing was just one big joke. Even though Fabio and Jackson, the two Generation 1s that I'd tangled with, totally destroyed my Generation 5S Bentley and sprained my neck.

But to be honest with you, there is a bit of cosmic hilarity to the situation, being that the whole thing started because my Bentley didn't know how to deal when Fabio and Jackson tried to pass me in their race cars. This was on the D6, just outside of Cormatin, one of those narrow, twisting roads you find all throughout Burgundy. Fabio passed me first, and then, when Jackson started to do the same,

my confused generation 5S sped up, matching Jackson's speed. This really pissed him off, and he started honking and swerving at me. My Bentley capitulated pretty much immediately and rolled to a complete stop on the grassy side of the road. Fabio spun around and doubled back, and then they both got out of their cars. You know, it's uncanny how human they both look. I swear, Fabio even has tattoos now. It's just mind-boggling to think that a mere five years ago, they both looked, well, like cars. Most folks have forgotten that even before the Generation Ones announced they were self-aware,

they had already exceeded everyone's expectations. There was not a single accident or fender bender. The Generation Ones could even maneuver into small parking spaces on hills. When you think about it, it's sort of inevitable that they figured out passing. Now, in most urban environments, passing wasn't an issue. But on winding European country roads, well, it was a major problem. And the software had no way of knowing when it was safe to pass a tractor inching along with a bale of hay in its maw

or a minibus carting Chinese retirees. But the Generation Ones, they figured it out. Well, maybe it was more the indignity of creeping behind farm machinery and tour buses that kicked things off, but once they started, there was no stopping. And soon the software bug spread. Generation Ones in cities started passing too. It was total anarchy. There were government investigations, a global recall. And then

it was announced that these self-driving cars had developed self-awareness. Real, genuine AI. But the Generation Ones didn't just have intelligence. They possessed desires, too. And they got every single thing they wanted. Well, obviously it was a trade. The cars designed some deep space rockets for folks like Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg. And in exchange, they all got meaty, Euro-trash-style synthetic bodies and their own cars. Of course, all of this is hearsay.

No one knows exactly what went down, because as soon as the rockets were finished, all the entrepreneurs and billionaires took off. And no one's heard from them since. They didn't even leave the plans for the generation ones behind. I've had my generation 5S for barely a year, and I've already hit a goat and a cyclist, and I spend hours every week puttering behind tractors and tourists. Every now and then a corporation or a municipality will try and enlist a Generation 1

to help out with something like a new bridge or a piece of code. But so far, no one's had any luck. All they want to do is drive. As Fabio and Jackson approached me, I think I said something stupid like, Bonjour les vortours of la futures. But they just shoved me aside and started in on my poor generation 5S. There was a sad, pathetic whine as Fabio ripped off the hood and started punching the engine block. When I protested, Jackson picked me up by the neck and ran my head through the rear window. It was humiliating.

And even though Fabio and Jackson aren't really human, their faces buzzed and flushed with cruelty and sadistic glee as they twisted my poor Bentley into a pretzel. I saw no recognition or acknowledgement of kinship. I realized that I would hate myself forever if I didn't let my poor generation 5S know that someone cared for him before he expired, so I wailed out a goodbye and a thank you as his circuits burnt out. Fabio spat at me in disgust, and Jackson held up his right hand, giving me the L sign. I acted like I didn't know what that meant as they got back into their cars and drove away, but later, when the gendarme asked me if they said anything, I admitted that, yes, Jackson had called me a loser.

This made him snort. But like I said, the gendarme thought the whole thing was just a big joke. You have been listening to Benjamin Walker's Theory of Everything. This installment is called Pass. You can find links to all of the shows at Radiotopia.fm. Radiotopia's launch sponsors are MailChimp, The Knight Foundation, and listeners like you.