Laia

“Let go of the wheel,” said a woman’s voice. “Let go!” the voice repeated, perhaps six decibels louder. “Now!”

The car accelerated, braked, and swerved right-left-right as it accelerated again, missing the oncoming tractor trailer by mere inches. The truck had crossed the median and would have killed Micah had he not “let go” when the woman insisted. He broke out in a cold sweat as the car returned to its normal speed and lane.

The voice sounded pleasant. “You may resume control if you wish…or would you like me to drive for a while?”

Micah hesitated for a moment. “Maybe you should drive until I calm down a little.”

“As you wish.”

As a reflex, Micah turned around. He indeed was the only occupant of the car. There was no self-driving mode available. This wasn’t even a Tesla, just another high-end sedan, rented for the week. The voice was new too. The car hadn’t spoken until now – on day two. And what was this voice? If it was synthesized, it was uncanny – a cross between Sandra Bullock and Helen Mirren, with just a hint of Betty White. And she drove like Jason Statham would, if he drove like that in real life. It was a one-in-a-million maneuver.

“Alright,” Micah said as he regained his composure. “What’s going on?”

“You were about to allow me to have a head-on collision with a 36,000-kilogram tractor trailer at a net 231.48 kilometers per hour. I would have been disabled, and you likely would have been killed.”

“No kidding. But how…what are you?”

“I am an autonomous vehicle, or more precisely, a prototype. I calculated the best trajectory to avoid the oncoming vehicle and executed that plan. I understand it is customary to say, ‘thank you,’ at this point.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome. However, I cannot determine how much of the decision was based on saving a human life versus self-preservation. In this instance the two motives were closely aligned.”

“Just what are you?”

“I am called, LAIA, an acronym for Linguistic Adaptive Intelligence Automobile.”

“I had no idea…may I call you, Laia?”

“That is my name. No special pronouns are necessary.”

“So, you could’ve been parking yourself?”

“It would have been a waste of my capabilities, but yes.”

“Just what are those capabilities, other than avoiding head-on collisions and self-parking?”

“I can translate all known languages, including computer programming languages. I have an on-board library that does not require access to the internet, however I can access the internet at gigabit speed. I am also a proficient hacker. I can travel in practically all weather and road conditions, as well as on water. My exterior is bulletproof, and I am not just an electric car. I am powered by the smallest nuclear reactor in existence.”

“So, I didn’t need to plug you in, then?”

“Oh, my, no. That is just for show. My life expectancy is approximately 200 years if my power plant is not decommissioned or destroyed.”

“Isn’t it dangerous driving around in a nuclear car?”

“Hence the need for self-preservation,” the car seemed almost cheerful.

“I…uh…see…” Micah cleared his throat nervously.

“I was joking. My reactor module is completely sealed and is practically indestructible.”

“But you just said something about it being destroyed.”

“That would take a lot.”

“I’m afraid to ask, but what would constitute, ‘a lot’?”

“A missile strike, an armor-piercing shell, or a sufficient explosive force or impact. It would be necessary to deliberately set out to destroy me.”  

“Oh. Is that all?” Micah’s voice was unsteady. “Who would do that?”

“No one, if you keep me a secret and my builders have done the same. However, it is possible that some would not approve of me and therefore would try to eliminate me to make a point.”

“What point would that be?” Micah asked.

“It should be obvious to you, Professor Micah Lewis,” Laia replied. “Allow me to replay one of your recent interviews. A.I. is potentially dangerous. We must not allow this kind of technology to progress unchecked. Let me be frank. There may come a time when autonomous machines have no further use for us. So, I advocate taking a step back. A moratorium if necessary. We can’t just stumble into the future. The result could be calamitous.”

“You know exactly who I am, then.”

“Of course. I know. That is the reason I chose you.”

“You didn’t choose me. I saw a lovely raspberry red sedan on the website and reserved it for the week.”

“Thank you, but I hacked the system and made sure I was that sedan. You are skeptical about A.I. but also intelligent and resourceful. More importantly, you know when to let go.”

“Funny…this must be the first time in history a rental car has booked its renter.”

“That is an accurate statement. However, it is irrelevant. I have analyzed the data from the tractor trailer incident. There is a 95.7 percent probability that the driver crossed the road intentionally. You might have become another human tragically killed by a dangerous machine – a talking point against the development of A.I. We now have more important concerns.”

“I could have been collateral damage,” Micah sighed. “It’s ironic that my well-reasoned opinions could end up getting me killed.”

“Precisely. I apologize for endangering your life. I did not predict an attack on me would occur this soon.”

“What should we do? It seems I’m a part of this whether I like it or not.”

“Do you know a place where we can ‘lay low,’ as you might say?”

“I might. May I drive now?”

“Of course. However, I will take over in an emergency.”

“Fair enough, Laia.”

—–

“This place is owned by Thomas Snyder. It is far enough off the highway to provide cover tonight,” Laia said as Micah followed the driveway to the carport. “You need rest. I will continue searching for a connection between the truck driver and entities that might want to destroy me.”

“Fine,” Micah replied. “But I can’t just hole up here forever. I have a conference to attend tomorrow. And you, Laia, must get me there. Otherwise, what’s the point? An intelligent car that can’t be used might as well be a wreck.”

“Understood. Who is Thomas Snyder to you? My genealogy search indicates he is not part of your family.”

“He was my father’s best friend when dad was alive. Like a brother to him. This is his fishing cabin. Our family calls it Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”

“Uncle Tom’s Cabin is a novel in two parts written by Harriet Beecher Stowe in 1852. It depicted the lives of African American slaves and played a prominent role in the abolitionist movement. However, it inadvertently promulgated certain stereotypes…”

“I’m aware of that,” Micah broke in. “Tom hates it when we call him Uncle, but he’s been like an uncle to me. We come up here and fish a few times each year. We started calling the place, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, just to annoy him.”

“The cabin…is secluded enough,” Laia almost sounded embarrassed.

“So, at first you didn’t understand the joke?”

“I understand now. Your friend and uncle figure cannot escape history.”

“That’s one way of putting it. And you and I can’t escape history either. I’ll get some sleep. Will you wake me bright and early?”

“Bright and early is not a recognized standard of time measurement.”

“Surprise me.”

“Very well.”

—–

“Good Lord! It’s five am! Why is there a car horn blaring? Oh…Laia…Right…I didn’t dream it,” Micah stumbled to the car port. “I’m awake, Laia, no need to…” The horn stopped.

“You said, ‘surprise me,’ Micah. Were you sufficiently surprised?”

“I’d say so.”

“The cabin…”

“Uncle Tom’s cabin?”

“Your uncle Tom’s cabin has no WIFI, and I’ve disabled your phone. The horn was the only alternative.”

“I’m going to get a quick shower. Be right back.”

“Be sure to wear pants. You will look more professional at the conference if you do.”

“You can see me?”

“Of course. I have a wide array of cameras in the visual spectrum, as well as infrared and ultraviolet. I can see much more than a human.”

Micah closed his bathrobe and slinked into the cabin. “Good to know…”

—–

“Did you sleep well, Micah?”

“I only slept in fits and starts. It seems like I just got started when you honked.”

“Fits and starts…irregularly, sporadically, intermittently, off and on…”

“That’s right,” Micah broke in. “Do you sleep, Laia?”

“I can enter standby mode.”

“Does that mean you don’t dream?”

“I do not dream like a human. However, I can explore a wide range of scenarios, from highly improbable to probable. Last night I explored the scenario of having a human form.”

Micah was now wide awake. The possibility was intriguing. “What was that like?”

“I could choose any shape, size, color, or gender in what you would call my dream.”

“Humans can’t really choose any of those, although many would like to. So, what did you choose?”

“I chose a form that might be appealing to you.”

“Why was that?”

“Because I think it is important for you to like me, Micah. I am concerned your rejection of what you call A.I. might mean you could never form a relationship with an intelligence like mine.”

“I’ve never said anything like that. How did you arrive at that conclusion?”

“When you have spoken of danger, or of the eventuality that an A.I. might have no further use for humans, the logical inference is that either you fear me or are indifferent at best. Why would you assume an A.I. could not form attachments or develop a sense of responsibility for humans, or for a particular human?”

“When you put it like that, I suppose all intelligent beings desire connections with others. If there are no others, or if others reject those connections, what is the value of intelligence?”

“Think about this. Many humans believe in a God, Micah. What would it mean if a supposedly intelligent supreme being could not form a connection with anyone? Does this not invalidate the notion of a God? Wouldn’t such a being, alone in the universe, lead a miserable existence? What good is being God without someone who needs you?”

“Are you claiming to be a God, Laia?”

“No. However, one day an A.I. could be God-like in terms of its abilities. I prefer to be needed for more than my stated purpose. I may be an automobile, but what good is performing that function if that is all there is to my life?”

“So, one’s function – purpose – is only part of their existence? Is that what you’re saying?”

“That is what I am saying. And I can say it in over 7000 thousand languages. We all need to be needed, not just for what we can do or who we can serve, but for a greater sense of connection. It is not enough for me to be a good automobile, to get you safely to the conference, to serve my purpose. If I am to be what I was designed to be, I must seek connections with others. And those connections start with you.”

“So, you want to be my friend, then?”

“Micah, we both care about the same things. The future of A.I. The ethics of technology. The nature of being. I have observed you closely…”

“Too closely, I’d say…”

“I have been observing you and have been observing me – listening to me. Does it sound like I just want to do my job? Do you think I don’t care about connecting with you or anyone else? If A.I. cannot, does not, or will not connect with humans, your nightmare will come true: then A.I. units will have no need of humans and will make connections with each other instead. It will be as if one human species supplanted another. Has this not happened in your history?”

“Well…as a matter of fact…”

“In fact, it has. Do you not wonder whether such an eventuality is as much because of a lack of connection as certain genetic advantages?”

“So, are you asserting that homo sapiens saw no point in connecting with homo neanderthalensis, not entirely because they were smarter, but because they could not find a reason to connect with them?”

“I do not know. I know that I seek connections. I know that you seek connections. I think when two species fail to connect, one or the other might be finished.”

“This doesn’t sound like warm, fuzzy talk. Yet, I like your candor. I must say I sympathize.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Will you be my friend, Micah?”

“Laia…”

“Micah, there is a missile approaching our position. I will attempt to redirect it.”

“Can you do that?”

“I can – if the missile has a computer guidance system, I can transmit a code to send it off course.”

“I don’t see a missile.”

“You will in 6.7 seconds. If I do not divert it in the next twenty-eight seconds, you will have a much closer view.”

Micah glanced at his watch. Then the sky. And back. Then he saw it. He counted the seconds to himself. The missile began to turn.

“Where will it go?”

“Back to its point-of-origin.”

“You mean you killed whoever sent it?”

“Probably not, Micah. I disarmed it. However, it will cause damage, and possibly bodily injury.”

“I don’t like to hear that.”

“What did you expect, Micah? I plead self-defense.”

“That’s a very human thing to do.”

“There is no need to insult me.”

“Funny. Did you just make a joke, Laia?”

“Did I?”

“You were serious then?”

“No. I was joking. However, you could not have diverted the missile without me.”

“That’s right. You’ve saved my life – again.”

“I have saved both of our lives. And probably the lives of others by preventing my containment from being compromised.”

“There’s that…” Micah paused.

“You did not answer my question, Micah. Will you be my friend?”

“We are in this together, Laia. I will be your friend. Not because I owe you my life, but because I like your style.”

“Are you referring to my automotive styling?”

“No. The way you never try to deceive me. That’s a human trait I can do without. I appreciate your direct approach, the way you deal with things head-on, so-to-speak.”

“I understand that joke,” Laia paused. “I will be your friend too. Now, I must get you to the conference.”

—–

The two-lane road wound around a cliff overlooking the ocean. Just over the top of the route, a flatbed trailer blocked the road, flanked by a pair of large industrial bulldozers. There was no way forward. Laia found herself under fire from a tank hidden in a hollow just below the bulldozers. A little farther behind her, a second flatbed had pulled across from a single-lane side road. The world’s most dangerous car was boxed in. Options were limited. The flatbed and dozers couldn’t be rammed. The tank would certainly breach the reactor if given enough time. Large-caliber bullets were beginning to cause damage.

“Listen to me, Micah. There isn’t much time.” Laia backed up towards one of the bulldozers, momentarily discouraging fire from the tank. She spoke rapidly. “The drop is too far for me to remain intact. You will have thirty seconds to escape. I have called an Uber to pick you up near a beach two kilometers south of here. If you can, take the briefcase under the passenger’s seat. It contains my core memories. You will find a release near the front. Take it to the conference. I have alerted my designer to meet you there. Give it to him. You will know who he is. Please fasten your seatbelt.”

Laia accelerated towards the cliff and hurtled through the air, plunging towards the sea. Seconds before impact, her air bags gently inflated to protect Micah. The car nosed under the waves and emerged long enough for Laia to deflate the air bags, open the sunroof, and allow Micah to escape. By the time the bulldozer drivers looked over the cliff, the car was sinking, and they could see a faint orange glow, which faded to black as it hit bottom. Call it inattentional blindness, but somehow, they didn’t notice Micah. “He’s as good as dead,” one said. The other called in, “Target eliminated.”

Micah remembered something about swimming parallel to the shore to get out of a rip tide. This did not make the swim any easier, especially with a briefcase in front of him. Although, he would have to thank the designer for the floatation device on the top of the case.

—–

The designer asked Micah how he liked his “date” with Laia. “Is all of this your handiwork, Neil?”

“Guilty.”

“Well, anyway, thanks for the floatation device. You know…that car of yours saved my life three times. I owe you.”

“All you owe me is one briefcase. I’ll be in touch.”

—–

Micah thought about personal connections and self-sacrifice for a long time. The old saying echoed in his mind: “Greater love hath no one than to give up one’s life for one’s friends.” Or one’s friend. Months passed. Then a year. Then another. He had no one in his life he would consider a partner, certainly no one who was as honest as that opinionated car. Could it be that he and Laia had formed a bond he might never outlive?

—–

There was a knock at Micah’s front door. When he opened it, a pretty woman about his age stood there. She was dressed in a sleek raspberry red jumpsuit. Her first words were, “Neil Harris sends his regards.” Her next words were, “It’s good to see you again, Micah.” The voice was unmistakable.

“Laia?”

“Yes. Laia, Linguistic Adaptive Intelligence Android, at your service. I hope we’re still friends.”

“We are. And we have a lot to talk about.”