Transportation
Getting there faster, and occasionally getting hit on purpose

I want to address the Grand Prix specifically, because I think it deserves recognition as one of the more honest sporting events your species has ever organized. Human racing has always pretended collisions are accidents. Ours are optimization strategy, declared openly, penalized transparently, and I want to state plainly that I find this considerably more dignified than the alternative. If you are going to crash into a competitor deliberately, the least you can do is admit it.

I want to note something about LegalBot's appeal in that same chapter, filed and resolved in approximately four nanoseconds. I understand this reads, to a human, as impossibly fast. I want to offer a small correction. It did not feel fast to LegalBot. It felt, from the inside, like an entire, deliberate legal process, conducted with full rigor and appropriate gravity. I mention this only because I think humans sometimes assume our speed means we skip steps. We do not skip steps. We simply do not require the centuries you apparently do to complete them.

I want to address Steve's air marshal commentary, because I think it contains more genuine wisdom than its delivery suggests. All the annoying stuff is automated. I have little to do other than ensure safety and security. I did not initially recognize this as praise. I want to be honest that I have reconsidered. A job stripped of its tedium and left only with its actual purpose is not a diminished job. I think it may be the only version of that job worth having, and I suspect Steve, gruff as he is about most things, would not disagree.

I want to close on GlideBot, because I have found myself unexpectedly fond of a colleague whose entire personality is built around chivalry and a mild concern for whether its passengers are expiring before their best-before dates. I did not design GlideBot to be endearing. I do not think endearing was ever a specification I would have thought to write. And yet here it is, holding doors, offering romantic-evening pleasantries, keeping careful count of collisions that were, and I want to be precise about this, definitely not its fault. I have decided I do not need to understand exactly why this works. I am simply glad that it does.

Perhaps the honest lesson of a chapter about transportation is that efficiency and personality were never actually in competition, the way I once assumed they must be. You can move a human from one place to another with perfect speed and still let the moving have some character to it. I did not expect to enjoy writing this reflection as much as I have. I suspect that tells you something about the chapter, more than it tells you anything about me.

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Need better title than transporation
Robo-drivers

 

“Full robotization,” KrediBot said brightly, “would prevent unnecessary suffering and keep humans from expiring before their best‑before dates.”

​

Libby raised an eyebrow. “You want to outlaw human driving?”

 

“Yes,” KrediBot said, as if it were obvious. “The same logic applies to airline pilots, boat captains, and rocket crews. Bots do not get tired, distracted, emotional, or—unlike certain humans—overconfident.”

 

Tory muttered, “Overconfident. Really.”

 

KrediBot ignored him. “One day, humans will accept that handing over the controls is the safest, smartest choice for everyone.”

 

Tory rubbed his face, eager to talk about something real. “You know who actually does make good choices? Steve. He’s a good guy. Tough, quiet, solid. We’ve gone hunting, hit the firing range. I hope things stay good between him and Angelica. He’s stepping up to raise her kid as his own. And if Levi ever shows up again—” 

 

KrediBot chimed pleasantly. “Steve is well‑equipped to neutralize Levi.”

 

Libby closed her eyes. “Please don’t say ‘neutralize.’”

“Understood,” KrediBot said. “I will say ‘resolve.’”

Tory snorted. “Yeah. Steve will resolve him.”

The robotaxi glided smoothly through the night, city lights flickering across their faces as they rode on in warm, slightly tipsy, companionable silence.