“Yes.”
“If you were unconscious, then who directed the car to the hospital?”
I said nothing.
Guzman informed me that my DLCx had swerved left. To avoid me, the other driver had
swung left also, broken through a wooden guardrail, and plunged over the cliff. He was dead.
I was glad to be alive, yet sorry for the other driver, even as my rational self reminded me
that he caused the accident.
The Park Police confiscated my car to check the Event Data Recorder (EDR). Programmed
to activate seconds before the air cushions deployed, the EDR would provide data on the car
systems both before and immediately following the accident.
I was positive it would back up my assertion that I was not speeding, had not taken the
wheel, nor ordered the car to the hospital.
The next few weeks were purgatory. The first fatal accident involving a driverless car was
national news. Close friends inquired how I was doing, but never asked about the accident
itself. Nosey acquaintances cut straight to gabbing about gory details.
The preliminary investigation found that my DLCx had not followed its accident avoidance
algorithm; my car had been hacked.
Accident avoidance algorithms were programmed into each driverless car under the guiding
principle of minimizing injuries and loss of life — and coincidentally minimizing insurance
payouts. A driverless car in danger of hitting a school bus would crash itself rather than hurt
children; a bad deal for the driver, but a good one for society. In my scenario, the DLCx should
have veered right as the natural reaction of the other driver, in a non-DLC car, would be to
wrench the wheel to the right to return to his lane. Since my car had gone left, the other driver
went left… over the cliff.
I plummeted from purgatory into the hottest circle of hell.
The FBI jumped into the investigation. Every high decibel cable news program showcased
competing experts discussing the safety of driverless cars, and car sales fell precipitously. The
US Attorney charged me with vehicular homicide, expressed in the prevailing Virginia traffic
laws as a “reckless disregard for the life of others.”
With Uncle Amit’s help and money I’d inherited from Nani Clive, I retained a lawyer who, in
turn, hired Ashram Singh, a young, blue jean-clad consultant instrumental in developing the
accident avoidance algorithms. Ashram gave me hope that my innocence could be proved.
26
The Ghouls’ Review