Self-driving cars, AI and near-oblivion at a CVS drive-thru
Jul. 29—Mr. Oblivious Bicyclist didn't so much as glance over his shoulder before taking the curve at speed, suddenly veering rightward past the corner CVS and slotting himself between the Volvo Pipsqueak ahead of him and the GMC Monstrosity following close behind.
Although speedy, the move lacked grace. In order to avoid flattening the cyclist, the towering GMC — conceivably the lovechild of an SUV and the Doof Wagon from "Fury Road" — had to stop short, its momentum coming to a sudden, brake-screeching halt to avoid repainting the vehicle's glossy white exterior in lavish red.
Mr. Oblivious Bicyclist, who now weaved around the Volvo to avoid being held up by the line of traffic, didn't seem to notice. Eyes steadfastly forward as he passed by me, still waiting for a break in the line of cars to turn into the CVS parking lot, the cyclist continued on his journey, unaware of the world around him.
"Well, that was dumb," I said aloud, or something like it. As someone who's been on the losing end of a battle between a two-wheeled vehicle and a car, I can't help but grit my teeth and suck air whenever I see a small vehicle freewheeling through traffic as if untouchable.
Honestly, I don't even think Mr. Oblivious Bicyclist's devil-may-care attitude was intentional. It's unlikely he awoke that Tuesday morning, dressed in all of his finest cycling accoutrements, looked into the mirror and told the Lycra-wrapped man he found there that today was the day he was going to give the proverbial middle finger to any vehicles he encountered on his journey.
"They've owned the roads for too long," he didn't tell himself in this scenario I'm fabricating. "No longer."
More likely, the cyclist — as most of us get sometimes — was just hyper-focused on what he was doing and, therefore, dangerously unobservant. Sure, he may have 6,000 pounds of metal, rubber and death bearing down on him, but he's got to keep that heart rate up or else the tiny screen on his arm will signal to the little dongles in his ears that he's slacking. Death by flattening is nothing compared to death by sedentary lifestyle.
As most things do, the incident made me think about robots.
I've seen and read enough science fiction in my life to be wary of passing off menial tasks to increasingly intelligent artificial beings. Sure, letting a wheeled Frisbee suck up cat hair and Cheez-It crumbs from your hardwood floors might seem innocuous enough, but that's just the first step before it takes over your life. Pretty soon, that Roomba you love so much will be using your Discover Card to purchase gym sets and your kids will be calling it "Dad."
The rapid growth of AI — that's artificial intelligence, if you're not into the whole brevity thing — is of even greater concern. You think having your vacuum cleaner replace your role as a parent is bad, just wait until the browser on your Chromebook is writing term papers for 80% of the world's students. How's my kid supposed to get a decent-paying job when she never learned what Dr. T.J Ekleburg's giant glasses symbolize in "The Great Gatsby" because Bing penned her essay on the subject?
Consider my hands sufficiently wrung.
Over the years, there has been a lot of concern over the advancement of self-driving cars, the ubiquitousness of which seems to be inevitable at this point. I imagine it won't be long before we're all sitting behind the autonomous wheels of self-guided vehicles, mindlessly scrolling through one TikTok after another as our mechanical chauffeurs transport us from restaurants where robots bring us prepared food to grocery stores where different robots brings us unprepared food.
And, sure, the idea of rolling death machines having free rein on our roadways is somewhat concerning to a guy who's seen "Maximum Overdrive" more than a few times, but even a cynic like myself has to wonder if it would be any more dangerous than allowing someone like Mr. Oblivious Cyclist behind the wheel.
Finally, there was a safe gap in the line of cars blocking the CVS entrance. I turned into the parking lot and was immediately greeted by the hulking front-end of a Ford F-Gargantuan. I stopped quickly, back end of my car still in the street, to avoid getting crushed as it passed.
The driver was looking down at his phone. I don't think he ever realized I was there.
"Robot Jesus, take the wheel," I said, then slowly guided my car toward the CVS drive-thru and the anxiety medication that awaited me there.
ADAM ARMOUR is the news editor for the Daily Journal and former general manager of The Itawamba County Times. You may reach him via his Twitter handle, @admarmr.
