Faster

by Alex Schuler

  “Ted’s always been a bit hyper,” Lori replied. “He pushed us, especially Nico. But that’s just who he is. I’ve never had to work for him, however. Just with him as a peer. Why? What’s going on with the hardware team?”

  “Things were fine at first, but in the last two months, he’s sort of started to pit us against one another. And he doesn’t hesitate to throw someone under the bus whenever there’s a setback.”

  “Bring it to Vin. We’re all on the same team, remember?”

  “I know. I just don’t want to rock the boat.”

  The lights in the room dimmed, a screen descended from the ceiling, and Sam walked over beside it. Ralph scooped up a glob of peanut butter and smeared it across his bagel. He and Lori quickly grabbed their seats.

  “Stop signs,” Sam said. “We all know them, right?”

  She used a remote controller to click through a few slides. Each slide showed a standard stop sign, bright red coloring, eight sides, white letters, white outline. Some were mounted on large silver lighting poles, others attached to squat narrow hunter-green steel posts.

  “Easy to spot, right?” She scanned the crowd, quietly acknowledging the nodding heads, then clicked ahead. “How about now?”

  The slides continued to go by in rapid succession. The sky in the background grew darker with each subsequent picture. Some of the stop signs shimmered, their reflective coating highlighting their message. Other sat dimly lit in the blackness of night.

  “As humans, we know these are all the same signs with the same meaning. Our brains recognize them, even in different lighting or in different locations.”

  “We know, Sam,” Ted said dismissively. “Our AI engine needs to learn these things.”

  She ignored his comment and clicked ahead. The next slide showed a stop sign with an All Way sign beneath it. The street signs above it showed it to be the intersection of Grant and Lombard, very close to Coit Tower, a popular tourist attraction in the Bay area. Sam clicked ahead. The image on the next slide was identical, but the All Way sign had been digitally removed. She continued to progress forward through her presentation. Each subsequent slide showed the stop sign becoming bent and mangled until the final slide showed no stop sign at all.

  “Everyone in this room knows that a deformed stop sign is still a stop sign. As drivers, we would know to stop. But what about this slide here, where the sign is missing?”

  “Even a human driver who had never been there wouldn’t realize it should be there,” Ted said. “They’d plow right through it. Maybe they’d get hit, maybe not.”

  “Since that’s a four-way stop, it’s also possible an alert driver might notice the other three stop signs and at least slow down,” Lori added.

  “Great observation,” Sam said.

  “Fine, you win.” Ted flipped his notepad closed and slammed his pen against the cover.

  “This isn’t a competition.” She kept her cool, turned off the presentation, and raised the lights in the room. “If the autonomous vehicle is to succeed, it must be smarter than us.”

  “It needs to see things that aren’t there?” Ted asked as he rolled his eyes mockingly.

  “Yes!” she replied. “The car needs to be a better driver than the best of us. It must be the greatest driver in the world.”

  “You’re talking about AI replacing humans,” he said. “Just like Vernor Vinge predicted in the nineties.”

  “When you say it like that it sounds all doom and gloom.” She placed her remote on the end of the table and leaned forward, her eyes scanning the room. She had everyone’s attention, except for Ted’s. Sam walked over to the whiteboard and pointed at the date. “What happened on this day fourteen years ago?”

  One by one, the team members turned and faced one another, exchanging confused glances. Ralph reached into his pocket to pull out his smartphone.

  “No cheating,” Sam said sternly. “Anyone?”

  “Deep Blue won its first chess game against Gary Kasparov,” Ted said. “The computer would go on to beat the world champion decisively the following year.”

  “Correct.” Sam shot him a smile but found herself disappointed by the scowl that remained on his face. “Only after IBM rewrote the code. They learned a lot in that first competition and came back a year later with a better, smarter machine—one that could beat the greatest. That’s what we’re doing with each of these challenges. That’s what we do each time we take Leapfrog out on the road. We’re making a better driver. Ted, remember the bike messenger that took our mirror off?”

  “Which one? We got hit three times on Market Street.”

  “I’m talking about the last one. The one where you hit the kill switch to avoid a runaway shopping cart. You jerked the wheel and almost hit the biker.”

  “So?” He chuckled to himself. “The asshole kind of deserved it. He was going the wrong way.”

  “My point exactly. Our technology needs to be better than bad drivers, including the ones in this room.”

  She stared at him, doing her best to ignore the rest of the team members. Her dig at Ted did not go unnoticed by the rest of the attendees. The silence and tension in the room were painfully uncomfortable.

  “Are we done?” Ted asked flatly.

  “The meeting’s over,” Sam replied. She turned and faced the rest of the team. “Everyone can go. Everyone except Ted.”

  She kept her eyes on Ted, waiting for the team to file out of the room. From the corner of her eye, she could see Ralph make a pitstop for another bagel. As he left the room, Sam pointed at the door. Ralph got the hint and closed it behind him.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked. “You’ve been wound up the past few weeks.”

  “I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “We all do. Look, Ted, I get that we are all under a lot of pressure. And I know you like to cut corners. But we are making great progress. I don’t get the rush. Even outside of work, you’ve been on edge.” She leaned across the table and took him by both hands, squeezing them firmly. “Talk to me.”

  “Are we still planning to do the El Camino Real test tomorrow?”

  “What?” She sat back, letting go of him. She couldn’t understand why he was deflecting the question. “Yes. The team is wrapping up the final coding changes today. Why?”

  “I have a feeling this will be the one.” He stood up and grabbed his notepad. “I have to leave early today.”

  “Why? I thought you were coming over for a movie night with Dani and I.”

  “I can’t. I’ve been trying to schedule something.”

  “I’m beginning to think you don’t like her.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “I just feel you put my family last, Ted. I know you aren’t close with your parents, or even your brothers. But you could be with my family if you would spend more time with them.”

  “Oh, as if your mother would love that.”

  She was about to respond when a knock rang out against the glass door of the conference room. She looked over to see Ralph smiling and waving. The door opened, and Sam’s daughter Dani came running inside.

  “Mommy!” Dani cried.

  She was dressed in red corduroy pants and a pink cotton sweater, a visitor badge clipped to her collar. Her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail with a pink ribbon. Sam rolled her chair to the side and flung her arms wide open, pulling Dani into a warm embrace.

  “Well, this is a surprise,” she said. She looked past Dani’s shoulder at Ralph. He was still holding the door open. Ralph’s face became awash with dread as he took a step backward. Catherine Lavoie stepped in front of Ralph and entered the conference room. Sam smiled and said, “Mom? What are you doing here?”

  “I left you a voicemail earlier,” Catherine said. She turned and looked at Ralph and waited for him to leave. Once the door closed, she
turned and looked at Ted. “Ted.”

  “Catherine,” he replied.

  Catherine’s piercing hazel eyes could halt anyone in their tracks. She always seemed to be studying everyone and everything around her. She could be having a conversation with one person while keeping her eyes locked on someone else. Even when she smiled, her eyes would often convey a different set of emotions. When she spoke, it was always with conviction. Catherine chose her words carefully, so there would never be any doubt or hesitation in what message she was delivering.

  “There’s an emergency board meeting that I need to attend.” Catherine took a few steps into the conference room. “I sent the nanny home earlier. She’s running a horrible fever. I’m sorry to bring Dani here, but I didn’t have any other last-minute options.”

  “It’s not a problem, Mom.”

  “Ted!” Dani ran over to him and flung her arms around his legs. He stood awkwardly, still holding his pen and paper in his hand and clumsily patted Dani on her head.

  “Hey, kid,” he said.

  “Can we go play with Leapfrog?” Dani asked.

  “You need to ask your mom,” he replied.

  “Of course we can,” Sam said. She stood up and walked over to her mother and gave her a hug and kiss. “I’m sorry I missed your call, Mom. It’s been a crazy day. I’ve been in back-to-back meetings.”

  “You need to take time for yourself,” Catherine said. She ran a comforting hand across Sam’s hair, tucking it behind her ears. She glanced at Ted and said, “And your family. Always make time for your family.”

  Ted continued to pat Dani on her head, eventually turning his gaze from Catherine to Sam.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Catherine said to Sam. “Again, sorry for the short notice.”

  “No apology needed, Mom.”

  Catherine blew a kiss toward Dani and left the conference room. Ralph was waiting for her in the hallway to escort her to the exit. Once the door swung closed, Dani let go of Ted and ran back to her mother.

  “Any second thoughts on dinner and a movie with us this evening?” Sam asked him.

  “I’ll do my best,” he replied. “I promise.”

  31

  Sam was dripping in sweat. Outside Leapfrog, the air was in the low sixties, however the bank of computers in the backseat generated quite a bit of excess heat, often requiring the Prius’s air-conditioner to be turned on, even when it was cold outside. She lowered her window, welcoming the fresh, cool air as it ran over her face and played with the tassels of her hair whipping behind her head. She briefly closed her eyes, allowing herself the relief offered by the wind. A series of beeps on her laptop interrupted her reverie, bringing her back to the task at hand.

  The map on her screen showed them closing in on the end of the El Camino Real challenge. Of course, they’d been to this exact intersection ten times before. Each time there had been something completely unpredictable that caused the car to go offline, forcing the driver to regain control. A car would run a red light or back out of a spot without looking. The team had wrongfully assumed they would encounter conditions similar to the ones experienced on Market Street, but the sheer length of the El Camino test constantly threw new and unexpected surprises at them. Ted likened it to playing a video game and reaching the final level only to lose your last man. Game over. Start again from the very beginning.

  The loop began and ended at Ashton University. They were only a few miles away, several blocks from San Carlos Ave. El Camino Real, also known as Route 82, was two lanes wide on each side. They had yet to make it past this intersection. Traffic was heavy, and they were stopped at a traffic light behind a long line of vehicles.

  “If we make it past this light, we should be in the clear,” she said.

  “You say that every time we go out, Sam. There are how many lights on this route?” Ted asked.

  “Two hundred or so. I can pull up the exact number in my program. Hold on.”

  “I really don’t want to know. Man, this test has been brutal—so many variables we have to account for.”

  The light ahead turned green, and the traffic began to move forward. Leapfrog, as programmed, was slow to accelerate, which allowed a gap between them and the car in front.

  “That’s why we have to keep repeating it, Ted. It’s the only way to—”

  A tricked out Honda Civic, periwinkle blue, and with a muffler the size of a coffee can, tore out of a parking lot just ahead of Leapfrog, cutting across the opposite lane of traffic. The AI system slammed on the brakes and swerved to the left to avoid an accident and came to a stop diagonally across the empty center lane. The burble of the Honda’s customized engine blared like an angry nest of hornets as the two-door coupe tore its way ahead, screeching its tires as it raced away. Sam immediately reached for the kill switch.

  “No!” Ted blocked Sam’s arm. “Wait.”

  They both jumped in their seats at the sudden blast of a horn shrieking from behind them. A pearl white BMW 328i was mere inches from their back bumper. Sam looked over her shoulder to see the driver pounding on his steering wheel. The BMW lurched to the right and roared past the Prius, cutting in front of it and across to a turn lane on the right side of the road. Leapfrog sat motionless in the center lane. More horns honked as traffic inched around the Toyota, like marching ants.

  “Leapfrog hasn’t released control back to us.” Ted pointed at her screen. “Don’t end the test. Wait.”

  The lane ahead of them was clear of traffic. After what felt like an eternity, Leapfrog straightened out and began to move forward toward the center lane. The little Toyota patiently waited until it could maneuver back into the left lane, returning to the programmed course.

  “She figured it out!” Sam scanned through a log file on her laptop. “That’s the first time she didn’t release control back to us. Not for an emergency lane change like that one. When she gets crammed in diagonally like that, she’s always given up.”

  “I had the team design a new douchebag program,” Ted deadpanned. “With sub-routines for hideously loud and ugly Civics, as well as pretentious BMW drivers.”

  Sam burst out laughing. Although they weren’t at the end of the course yet, she realized this event alone was a milestone for Leapfrog. “That was a close one, Ted.”

  “You wanted to hit that kill switch. You trusted me and took a risk. I’m proud of you.”

  “That BMW almost slammed into us. I just didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  “I’ve told you before that you jump the gun too often with that kill switch.”

  “It’s better to be safe than sorry, Ted. You know we can’t cause an accident.”

  “We didn’t. Relax, Sam, it’s almost over.”

  “God, I hope so.”

  Her heart pumped with optimism as the scenery passed by and she looked over at Ted, thrilled to see he, too, was smiling. She took his hand and squeezed it, refusing to let go. They held hands for the remainder of the trip until the Prius reached Ashton Avenue.

  “This is it,” she said. “This is the final turn, Ted.”

  “Don’t jinx us.”

  She found it hard to breathe. Her eyes darted between her laptop, the stoplight, and every car around them. The pounding of her heart resonated throughout her body. She glanced over at Ted, hoping he’d shoot her a smile or any sort of look to relax her. Instead, he looked just as nervous as she was. She knew that if Leapfrog made this turn, their greatest challenge yet would finally be complete.

  The stoplight turned green, and the Prius whirred ahead, turning left onto San Carlos Avenue. Sam finally exhaled once the turn was complete. The road ahead was clear. They sat in silence as Leapfrog continued humming forward until it reached Ashton Avenue. The Toyota turned onto the campus and followed the short winding road to the Welcome Center, pulling into the parking lot and coming to a halt.

&nbs
p; Sam looked down at her screen and waited for what felt like an eternity until a message flashed across the window: “Course Complete.”

  “Holy shit,” she said, her eyes tearing up. She turned and smiled as she looked at Ted. “We did it.”

  “Assuming Vin approves it.”

  “It will pass. I’ve been working with his quality team to update our tests. Our last challenge passed the quality review on the first full completion, remember?” She returned her gaze to her laptop and began to scan through the log files. “I know what they consider a pass or fail now. My system won’t flash ‘Course Complete’ unless we are truly done. Trust me. We nailed this.”

  “I would love nothing more than to have the El Camino Real challenge behind us.”

  “I think we clocked in over six-thousand miles just on this one test.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “How many miles are on Leapfrog? I just realized we might need to plan on getting another Prius. I think we’re going to blow way past that hundred-thousand-mile goal.”

  “Enough with the plans, Sam. You’re one hundred percent convinced Vin will mark this challenge as complete?”

  “Completely.”

  He smiled, his face beaming with delight.

  “I’ve never seen you so thrilled to end a challenge,” She said. There was something different about his grin. “What?”

  “We should go celebrate.”

  “What are you thinking? Donovan’s?”

  “Not quite.”

  ***

  Ted was giddy, waiting for the car’s gas tank to fill. Ashton’s campus was not far from GSI’s headquarters. He insisted they stop at a specific gas station to refuel. Sam stayed in the car, keeping her head buried in her laptop as she methodically read off key information from the log file. A snap from the handle indicated the tank was full. Ted returned the hose to the pump, grabbed his receipt, and jumped back into the driver’s seat.

  “Give me that,” he said. He snagged Sam’s laptop from her grasp. “We have one more program to run.”

  “What program?” she asked.