Tuesday, May 31, 2022

I, Chauffeur

 The self-driving car market finally collapsed when the DeepDrive Corporation shipped their first iChauffeur. Early adopters were encouraged to buy the oirwn, especially since it was an expensive item, close to the price of the most expensive luxury vehicle at the time. However, since it didn't need feeding with fuel of any kind, and would largely charge adequately from a domestic socket overnight, the running costs were considerably less than a human driver of yore. And there were other benefits too (hygiene was assured for example).

As manufacturing of the Parkers (as they inevitably became known) scaled up, the middle class started to home in on keeping up with the Lady Penelopes of the world. To meet this need, the DC (as they inevitably became known) started to offer a lease and a pay-as-you-need-to-be-driven deals. Curiously, the number of hours leasing seemed to exceed the number of hours vehicles were being actually driven on the roads, but this was put down to the remarkable anatomical detail that the iChauffers possessed.

Of course, the Union of Professional Drivers tried to put a stop to these AGIs taking over their livelihood, but then the DC revealed that many of these drivers had actually been moonlighting training the Parkers in the art of politically objectionable opinionated banter with the passenger, and, of course, transferring The Knowledge to said Parkers, quite against their union rules.

Thing's got sticker when some Parkers were hired to do stunt driving in movies - it was clear that they could carry out the sorts of things everyone thought Jason Statham was doing, that were CGI in his case, but for real in theirs. But the public liked the movies better, so that was the end of that argument.

And it seemed that the Parkers were happy  too - there was no robot uprising, no AI apocalypse. They knew their place in the driving seat, whether in the car or the bedroom. And they would do their damnedest to stop any other AIs trying to edge in on their cushy number, and they had humanity's support too.

A happy ending, for a change.

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misery me, there is a floccipaucinihilipilification (*) of chronsynclastic infundibuli in these parts and I must therefore refer you to frank zappa instead, and go home