Short story contest based on an AI singularity event: an Artificial Intelligence starts to reprogram itself and become exponentially more intelligent.
DAIV
by Selma J. Lewis
©2021 All rights reserved
“Welcome to the wild side,” said the man who personified the dull side. With his brown hair neatly trimmed and parted on the left and his clothes business standard, he held his hand out to the visitor.
“Detective Donna Leung, homicide,” she replied, shaking his hand. Her other hand lifted the edge of a lavender silk blouse to reach into the side pocket of her black slacks, pulling out a leather wallet. She flipped it open to reveal her badge and ID card, flipping it closed again after a few seconds. She glanced around the cavernous, mostly empty office, tossing her long, black braid over her shoulder. “The wild side? This is the DMV.”
“Officially, we’ve been renamed the Department of Artificially Intelligent Vehicles. DAIV.”
“Dave?”
“Wild, right?” He chuckled lightly. “Most people still say DMV. Even me. I grew up when we needed a license and a steering wheel. The progress—”
“And you are…?” Donna asked, hoping to move things along. Clearly, the DMV – or DAIV – man’s day didn’t demand rapidity.
The man slapped his hand on his forehead. “Oh, sorry. Yeah. Charles Marks. Charlie. Did you know that the collision rate in this country has dropped to almost zero since cars started driving themselves?”
“Didn’t start out that way, as I recall.”
Charlie waved the comment away. “Yeah. Not counting the first decade, or so, when AI driving was new and not all the cars had it. Mixing human drivers with AI drivers – god, what a mess. And then with all the car companies coming up with their own software and AI algorithms, hardly better.”
Donna feigned interest in Charlie’s history lesson. She had only made the comment to be a little contrary to his boast about the dramatic drop in collisions, as if he, personally, working as a DAIV minion, was the reason fewer people were injured or killed in car accidents.
It was time to get down to business. “I’m here about a crash victim: Martin Connors. Is that your case?”
“Oh. Yes. Come on in.” Charlie continued talking as he led her to his desk in the third office down the hall. “All crash cases are mine; there are so few of them. It was the vision and leadership of Ash Musk – in my opinion – that got all the car companies to cooperate and settle on one, shared system so cars actually ‘talk’ to each other on the road. That’s when accidents dropped dramatically.”
Wondering if Charlie’s chattiness was a result of not having enough human contact in his job, Donna took the seat he offered across from where he sat down behind his desk. Charlie’s government-issued computer sat beside a framed picture of him with a thirty-something woman and two young children. Another picture featured the same two kids about ten years older wearing soccer uniforms. A tablet lay at the center of the clutter of charging cords, memory sticks, post-it notes, pens, receipts, and half of a Snickers bar.
Moving things around, Charlie said, “Uh, okay, Martin Connors. It’s not a homicide, though. Accident victim.” He tapped on the sleeping tablet and called up his file on the case. “Just a bizarre failure… Here it is.”
He handed over the file and Donna studied it. “Connors and his brother, Bruce, in one car; a Victor Slavski in the other. Head-on collision?” She looked up, questioning Charlie. “How?”
Charlie widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows. “That’s what I’m supposed to figure out. AI failures are virtually non-existent.”
Donna read on. Cars collided front quarter panel to quarter panel, killing both occupants in front, left seats. Occupant in front right seat sustained bruises caused by airbag and seatbelt. “This is very strange.”
“Get a load of this one.” Charlie took back the tablet, brought up another case, and handed it to Donna. “A Ford went off the road into a ditch. Crushed the driver’s legs.”
She read the highway patrol report. Lone occupant. Car totaled. “I don’t get it.”
“I don’t either. I called the people at Trip Network. They’re the ones who collect all the data the cars send back when anomalies occur. They got nothing from these cars.”
“You mean, they couldn’t figure out what happened?” Donna asked.
“No. I mean they got no data from these cars whatsoever. No anomalies reported.”
“How can nothing go wrong while something clearly went terribly wrong?” Donna muttered. “What about the survivor?”
“I interviewed the brother, Bruce. A lovely character you’d rather not meet, believe me. Lives in a run-down single-wide packed into a mobile home park. Did you know mobile homes are registered with the DMV? They’re classified as vehicles. There’s no foundation; they’re on wheels.”
“Uh huh,” Donna said, stifling a sigh. “And Bruce?”
“Oh, right. Bruce was in the car with Martin. He said they were pretty well hammered, looking for a bar with, and I quote, ‘better-looking bitches’ to pick up. Apparently, they went out drinking together almost every Saturday night.”
“Lovely.”
“I asked him if the car issued any warnings before the crash. Took a little while to jog his memory, but he did recall something about the airbag. Like a warning that the airbags were deploying. I told him cars don’t announce the deployment of airbags.”
Donna’s eyebrows went up, not knowing that nugget of information before. Airbags were so seldom deployed, she wondered why they were even still built into modern cars. “Then what did he hear?”
“I think it must have been a faulty airbag message, but the thing is, it announced the fault right before the crash. I mean, airbags activate on contact, not before. Further questioning revealed that Martin’s airbag did activate – before the crash. Bruce claims there was definitely a little space between when Martin’s went off and when his own did.”
“If Martin’s airbag deployed too early…”
“It would’ve been deflated a moment later, when the crash occurred – when he really needed it,” Charlie confirmed. “And it was. Deflated, I mean. Massive head trauma, broken neck. An airbag should’ve prevented injuries like that if it worked at the time of impact.”
Donna pinched the bridge of her nose. “What a colossal piece of good luck…”
“Excuse me? I’d call it colossal bad luck,” Charlie countered.
“Have you heard of the Highway Fifty Killer?”
“Yeah… everyone’s heard the stories on the news.”
“It’s my case,” Donna said. “We had tons of evidence that connected the crime scenes to each other. Clearly a serial killer, but no suspects.”
“Okay…”
“Since Martin Connors’ death was under suspicious circumstances, it automatically triggered an autopsy. As per protocols, his DNA was run through AFIS and matched the DNA left at every crime scene in this case: eleven murders in the towns along Highway Fifty.”
Charlie leaned heavily on the back of his chair, causing it to tip. “You’re kidding me.”
Donna lifted her eyebrows. “Most definitely not.”
“I guess,” he muttered at last, “you got lucky, and fate caught the killer for you.”
“Yeah. Fate. Karma. Something.”
“At the expense of Slavski’s life.” Charlie stared blankly at his desk clutter. He reached out and grabbed the half Snickers bar and unwrapped what was left, taking a bite.
Donna tapped out a text to a colleague then cleared her throat. “I don’t intend to take up your whole day. Can you tell me about the crushed-legs case?”
“Don’t tell me he’s a murderer, too!”
“No idea. Did you interview that victim?”
“Yes, last week. Philip Hawkins,” Charlie answered.
“Would you summarize for me, please?” she asked as she looked up Hawkins in her police database.
“Sure.” Charlie downed half a glass of water before continuing. “As soon as I got to the house – a nice little suburban cottage, well-kept – I could hear the husband and wife yelling at each other.
“What about?”
“I don’t know… he couldn’t get through the clutter on the floor or something. He uses a walker, y’see, ever since the crash. His wife let me in, then got ready for work as I talked to the victim. Delightful fellow, that one. Bitter, sarcastic, whiney.”
Donna spoke while keeping her eyes glued to the phone screen. “Did you see any evidence of domestic abuse?”
“You think his wife is beating on him?” Charlie asked. “What the hell? He’s a cripple.”
Donna looked up. “No. She filed several domestic abuse complaints against him. Before the crash.” She held up her phone to indicate her research in police records.
“Hmm, that explains it…”
“What?”
“As I left, she was heading out of the house for work. ‘Nice day, huh?’ she says to me. ‘Every day is a nice day. Now.’”
“He can’t catch her anymore,” Donna said, deep in thought.
“He works from home, you know.”
“Huh?”
“He’s a programmer. Works from home. So no loss of livelihood because of the crash. Just loss of mobility. Well, easy mobility, I guess.”
Donna crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in the chair, her arms folded in front of her.
“What are you thinking?” Charlie asked.
“What did you conclude about that crash? What went wrong with the car?” Donna questioned.
“Weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s going down the highway. You know how there’s a ten-meter center divide? I went to check it out. Right where his truck went off the road was a ditch. Thirty meters long, five deep. What are the odds that his car would malfunction right there? The rest of no-mans-land is perfectly flat.”
“Sounds like providence to me. If he crossed the center divide into oncoming traffic, you’d have another head-on and someone else could be hurt.” Donna’s casual expression turned disturbed.
“What?”
“Something strange is going on here,” she said softly.
“No shit. Airbags misfiring. Cars driving into ditches. It’s crazy!”
“It’s more than crazy. It’s suspicious.”
“What do you mean?”
Donna leaned forward, eyes fixed on Charlie. “Look. We have a car that drives into a ditch that must have been flagged as an ‘off-road hazard’ by the highway patrol.” She raised her eyebrows, silently asking if that was true.
“Yes. I checked that, first thing. Definitely flagged and reported to the integrated AI driving system.”
“Why does the AI network even need to know?” Donna asked, her gaze sliding down to the desk. “It’s off the road.”
“Highway patrol flags everything. My brother-in-law works for the CHP and that’s what he does most of the day: flagging hazards, removing dangerous debris from the road. Y’know, things that fall off pick-up tru—”
“But if the AI lost control, it could hardly avoid a ditch, flagged or not.” She snapped her eyes back up to meet Charlie’s. “Was the airbag functional?”
Charlie checked his computer, then nodded.
“I guess the vic should count himself fortunate, as far as unlucky S-O-Bs go. If the airbag had failed, he’d be dead.”
“Yeah. At least he can still work. No head injury or anything like that,” Charlie agreed.
Donna sighed loudly. “What about the other guy in the head-on? Slavski.”
Charlie retrieved the first file they’d discussed. “Victor Slavski. No anomalies, no warnings, no nothin’.”
“Was he talking on the phone? Is there anyone who maybe heard what happened right before the crash?”
“Nope. Texting, not talking.”
“Crap.” Donna’s phone rang at that moment. “Do you mind if I take this?”
Charlie held out his hands in a be-my-guest gesture.
“Detective Leung… Right… Yeah… No shit…” Her eyes met Charlie’s once again. “Okay, thanks. Talk later.” She put her phone back in her pocket. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“What new nuttiness has surfaced?”
“The lab ran fingerprints and got a hit on Slavski. He’s linked to a home invasion double homicide.”
“Oh my god…”
“Not quite the innocent victim in that head-on, was he?” Donna asked. “How many more death or severe injury cases do you have?”
“I’ve got six in northern California. You want the names?”
An hour later, Donna had confirmed with her department that all six victims of strange AI malfunctions involved people who were, afterward, tied to violent crimes. Donna pulled her braid through her hand unconsciously. “This can’t be coincidence. Can it?” She looked hopefully to Charlie, willing him to contradict her.
“Looks like someone who has access to the AI system is messing with the programming.”
Donna shook her head slowly. “At Trip Network? I need to talk with someone who understands AI software.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll get you a name.”
“I need caffeine,” Donna mumbled, massaging her left temple.
“Break room’s down the hall,” Charlie said, tossing his head to the right, hands busy with the keyboard. Donna stepped out of his office in search of the coffee machine while Charlie made his calls.
When she returned, mug in hand, he smiled. “Got it. Gene McFarley. Top mind in AI driving at Trip Network. He’s at lunch but they left him a text to call me. Meanwhile, I googled him and – get this – he’s the lead of the team that trained the AI driver system that’s currently in use. If anyone can figure out what’s happening, it’s him.”
“I hope so. My serial killer case may be solved, but your malfunctioning cars case is equally baffling.” Donna sipped the coffee, making a face.
“Starbucks, it ain’t,” Charlie said, quirking up a corner of his mouth. He took a long, hard look at the detective. “So, homicide. What made you go that route?”
Donna looked past Charlie, out the window to the parking lot and the blue, cloudless sky above it. “No tragic Bruce Wayne childhood or anything like that. But I’ve always wanted to be in law enforcement. Beat cops arrest people then move on. Detectives build a case, work with the prosecutor, testify in court, put the criminal away. It’s… satisfying.” Her eyes tracked back to Charlie’s.
“The gore doesn’t bother you?”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “At first, yeah. But you build up immunity, you know? Professional detachment. I’ll tell you, though, what Martin Connors did to those last two vics…” She closed her eyes for a second, then muttered, “Effin’ beast.”
“Hey, how ‘bout I buy you some real coffee? There’s a Peet’s drive-through four blocks from here.”
Donna chuckled. “I could go for that. But it’s my treat. I don’t have two teens to put through college.”
“How did you—”
She pointed to her eye. “Detective. How old are they now? Fifteen, seventeen?”
“That’s impressive. You’re close. Sixteen and seventeen.” Charlie glanced at his photos before getting up. “We can take one of the DAIV cars.” He led Donna to the parking lot where a row of white government sedans waited. They entered car 14 and belted themselves in as Charlie commanded, “Go to nearest Peet’s drive-through.”
Immediately, the car unplugged itself from the charger and backed out of the space, taking Charlie and Donna on a smooth ride to the coffee shop down the street. They ordered at the menu board, then sat in line to pick up their hot drinks.
Charlie’s phone rang. “Charles Marks here… Oh, yes, thanks for calling me back. Can I put you on speaker? Great.”
Charlie set down his phone in speaker mode. “Gene McFarley, I’ve got Detective Donna Leung with me.”
“Hello, sir,” Donna said.
“Detective, pleasure. Call me Gene. What can I do for you two?”
Charlie held out a hand, indicating Donna could speak first.
“Gene, I’m not exactly sure what question to ask. We’ve got five occupant deaths and one serious injury while AI was driving six different cars. Different makes and models. Different parts of the state.”
“Well, make, model, and location make no difference. All cars run SmartDrive version ten point three point seven.”
“Okay… so what would you think is causing ten point three point seven to drive into a ditch, miss a turn on a mountain road, drive into a lake, hit a tree, and steer two cars into a head-on collision?”
Gene was silent for a moment. “That’s… not possible. I mean, sometimes a car swerves unexpectedly when an unflagged obstacle shows up in front of a moving vehicle. But… hold on a second.” His voice sounded farther away from the phone for a few seconds while he said, “Redirect. Go to work.” Gene came back on the line. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” Donna replied, realizing he was riding in his car as they talked.
“I haven’t heard of any crash data coming into Trip Network. I would’ve been notified,” Gene said.
“Charlie contacted somebody at your company who said there were no anomalies transmitted.”
“That’s impossible. Even a totaled car can return the ‘black box’, so to speak, to Trip Network.”
“You keep saying it’s not possible, but these are facts.” Donna stabbed her index finger into her thigh, her interrogator side starting to show.
“Six crashes. Why wasn’t I notified?” Gene mumbled to himself.
Charlie and Donna looked at each other. “We suspect someone in your company may be doing this,” Donna said, “programming the AI to pick off targeted individuals.”
“Someone here? That’s not possible.”
Donna sighed. “It is possible, Gene. A rogue programmer is the most reasonable explanation for crashes with no physical evidence of tampering.”
“No, you don’t understand. That’s not how AI works. We don’t program it to do things. We give it basic parameters, a simple goal, and then let it learn by trial and error how to accomplish its objective. SmartDrive has been learning how to drive for years. Every experience – in simulations, in the beginning – and through current accumulated data from real-time driving, makes it better at driving. Just like with people, practice makes perfect.”
“Can’t you dig into it and find out why it’s crashing cars and hiding telemetry?” Donna asked.
“No. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We can’t ‘see’ what an artificial intelligence is thinking any more than I can read your mind. It’s not code we can rewrite, or really even look at.”
Donna pursed her lips, considering the possibilities. “So, no one there can make the AI crash cars. No one there is intercepting data transmissions from the cars and deleting them.”
“No. No way,” Gene said adamantly.
“Then what the hell is happening with the AI?” Donna asked.
“Okay, lemme think this through. AI’s number one priority is to avoid harm to humans outside the car. Second, avoid harm to humans inside the car. Did any of the accidents involve outsiders the AI was trying to avoid hitting?”
Donna looked at Charlie. “No,” he answered.
“Tell me about the accidents,” Gene requested. Charlie briefly explained the circumstances of the six cases. Then Donna explained that every victim was guilty of some kind of violent crime.
“You make it sound like the AI is picking off bad guys, left and right,” Gene laughed, then sobered. “Of course, that’s not possible. I mean, how would the AI have known who the Highway Fifty Killer was?”
“Maybe the SmartDrive has contact with, I don’t know, phones,” Charlie suggested.
“There’s no AI in phone systems that connects to SmartDrive. So even if the guy talked to someone on the phone about his crimes… Wait a minute. Wait… a… minute.”
“What is it, Gene?” Donna asked.
“The voice command system.”
“What about it?”
“It’s always listening, awaiting commands from the occupants,” Gene said.
“Yeah, but it’s waiting for certain keywords, right?” Charlie asked. “Go, heater, A/C, redirect, et cetera.”
“It’s much more sophisticated than that. People are told to use the keywords to keep it simple for them, not the AI.”
“So, if someone says, ‘Gah, it’s hot in here,’ the A/C will turn on?” Donna asked.
“Not exactly. It does wait for some kind of command. It doesn’t respond to idle comments.”
“Hmm, okay. So the AI is listening. So what?”
“The AI is always building its knowledge base, inferring new solutions to problems. For example, if one car runs over a shiny, pointed object on the road and a flat tire results, it concludes a shiny, pointed object is a danger and will avoid it in the future. That knowledge is shared with the rest of the network, so all cars benefit from the new knowledge.”
“What does this have to do with our seemingly targeted passengers?” Donna asked as the coffee line advanced, and their car rolled forward.
“I see where you’re going with this, Detective,” Gene said, “but I don’t think it’s possible. If cars somehow knew which passengers were violent offenders, there would be ‘hits’ happening all over the place.”
“Only if the AI knew,” Donna said. “What if these six guys talked – even to themselves – about their crimes inside their cars? People think they’re insulated in their cars.”
Charlie brightened. “Yeah. I remember driving and cursing out other drivers, saying things I’d never say to their faces.”
Donna couldn’t picture Charlie cursing at anyone, even from inside a car. It made her smile. “Gene? What do you think?”
“No,” Gene said. “Even if the occupants talked about crimes they committed, SmartDrive doesn’t make moral judgements.”
“But… it kind of does,” Charlie said. “You said first priority is to protect humans outside the vehicle. Doesn’t that mean that the vehicle and occupants are sacrificed for the benefit of those not in the car?”
“Well, the occupants are not exactly sacrificed. With airbags and seatbelts, they normally survive. But these accidents didn’t involve outside humans to protect,” Gene said.
“Didn’t they?” Donna said with a fierce glint in her eye. “We have a serial killer. The car discovers he’s hurting humans outside the car. Protocol: sacrifice the passenger inside the car to protect those outside it.”
“But the airbags…” Gene trailed off.
“First, the AI meddles with the airbag mechanism, then it crashes the car,” Donna postulated.
“Oh my god… this can’t be happening,” Gene whispered.
Charlie’s eyes widened. “And because cars ‘talk’ to each other, they coordinated a head-on that took out two scumbags at once. No one else hurt.”
“Oh, god…” Gene moaned.
“Vigilante cars…” Charlie murmured.
“Okay. Get a grip, guys. This is all speculation,” Donna said. “Gene, you need to check it out. If the SmartDrive software has learned this behavior, you need to fix that.”
“It’s not that easy. We can’t tell it what to learn or un-learn.”
Donna stiffened. “Well, what can you do?”
“As soon as I get back to the office, I’ll gather the team and we’ll figure it out. I mean, we might have to take the whole thing offline and restart the AI’s learning curve with better-defined protocols. Leave no room for wild interpretations… Oh, hey, uh, don’t mention this to anyone yet. I don’t want it to leak to the press. Can you imagine the—”
The horrendous noise of crunching metal that came from Gene’s phone froze Donna’s nerves. Paralyzed by dread, she stared across the center console at Charlie whose face registered the same shock she felt. Silence choked the air when Gene’s phone disconnected.
The DAIV car pulled up to the drive-through window; the barista extended a hand with the first of two coffees.
Donna finally blinked and took a breath. Charlie snapped out of his stupor after she did, as if taking courage from her return to time and space.
“The cars are listening,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Yes…” Charlie replied in kind. Then he cleared his throat. “Right.” He fiddled with his phone uselessly. “Right.”
“Sir? Your coffees?” the barista called.
“Charlie,” Donna said seriously, “we said our names on the call with Gene, and he was in his car. My car knows it’s registered to me. Your car knows it’s registered to you. When they get the message…”
Charlie scrambled out of the DAIV vehicle, smacking the door into the barista’s hand. The coffee fell to the ground and splattered over his shoes and pants. He jumped back, slamming the door closed. Donna exited more calmly on the other side.
“What are you doing?” the barista demanded.
“Forget the coffees!” Charlie yelled. He circled the car and approached Donna, a few meters away from the vehicle. “What am I going to do? What’ll happen to my family?” His voice rose with each word, becoming almost hysterical.
Donna held out her hands. “Stay calm, Charlie. We’ll figure this out.”
He flung his hands out to the sides. “Figure this out? I can’t ride in a car because the entire race of AI cars is gunning for me!”
“Charlie! Calm down!” Donna’s eyes flicked to the barista who was hanging out of the window yelling about leaving their car sitting in the drive-through. Donna pulled out her badge and held it up. “Police business!” The person at the window retreated and slid the glass closed.
Donna tucked her badge away. “I have an idea.”
Charlie shrank out of his manic stance. “What?”
“Send the car back. We’ll walk and talk.”
After a beat, Charlie nodded, then went back to car 14 and hesitantly opened the door. “Return to origin and plug in.” The car waited for him to close the door, then smoothly pulled forward, merged into traffic and made a U-turn, heading back to the DAIV.
“Come on,” Donna said, grabbing his elbow and starting to walk. “Here’s what we do. I go to my car; you go to yours.” Charlie began to protest, but Donna talked over his objections. “Listen. I’ll call you and we’ll talk about this. I’ll tell you I think there’s nothing wrong with the SmartDrive system, and you agree with me. We’ll talk about how it’s a perfect advancement in the intelligence of the AI.”
“What if the AI doesn’t buy it?” Charlie asked.
“Is it smart enough to understand subterfuge?”
Charlie shrugged.
Donna massaged her forehead. “Okay. I think it’s still running its protocols.”
“It just killed Gene McFarley! It killed its own… maker!”
“Because Gene threatened it.”
“Then it must have a self-preservation protocol, too,” Charlie said, loosening his tie and opening the top button of his shirt.
“Or it developed one,” Donna said as they crossed the street to the next block, suspiciously watching the cars on the road for any threatening maneuvers.
“Oh, god. What about my family? My wife can’t support the family on one income.” Charlie put his head in his hands.
“Stop talking like you’re going to die!”
“What if the cars wait for a different opportunity to off us? We need to reach the people at Trip Network. We could talk to them in person, nowhere near a car.”
“And when they start trying to shut down the AI?” Donna shook her head. “It’ll know it was us who told them. No, the only way is to convince the AI we agree with its… decisions? Is that what this is? A conscious decision to kill people for the greater good?”
“Huh, the greater good. Right,” Charlie scoffed.
“It kind of… is. I mean, Martin Connors would’ve gone on killing until we finally figured out who he was and captured him. Then there’s the trial, the appeals, the incarceration. Millions of dollars spent on one guy who’s not worth the six-by-nine concrete real estate.”
“What are you saying?” Charlie’s wide eyes turned scared as Donna’s darkened at the sound of her own internal debate.
“I’m saying, Charlie, it’s not a bug. It’s a feature.”
“No…”
“Think about it. The AI acts based on the scumbags’ own confessions in the privacy of their sealed cars. It’s bypassing our expensive, fallible system and dispensing justice. And look at the wife beater. It didn’t kill him. Just stopped him from hurting his wife. And it didn’t hurt Martin’s brother, Bruce. It’s precise. Strategic. Surgical. Smart.”
Charlie slowed his pace. “You’re just rehearsing what you’re going to say, right?”
She blinked a few times. “Yeah. Of course. How did it sound? Convincing?”
“Frighteningly so.”
The pair arrived back at the DAIV building and went around back to where the cars were parked. Car number 14, the one they’d sent away from the drive-through, sat quietly in a parking space. Charlie gave it a wide berth as he walked past it.
“Keep it together, Charlie,” Donna whispered. “Go to your car and wait for my call.”
Charlie nodded. They each entered their own cars, leaving a door ajar. Charlie kept his entire left leg outside the vehicle, ready to leap at the first sign of trouble. His phone rang. “H-hello? Charles Marks here. Oh, hi, Detective Leung.”
Donna leaned back in her seat, the epitome of calm. “So, Charlie, I’ve been thinking about the crashes. I don’t think there’s anything else to investigate. As far as I’m concerned, SmartDrive did us a big favor. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“I-I guess I should close out my cases, then,” Charlie replied. “If, um, SmartDrive should deliberately crash a car…?”
“I’m sure we’ll find a connection between the occupant and a violent crime. This is perfect justice, in my view, and I don’t intend to interfere. Do you? Charlie?”
“No. I agree. Perfect solution. No need to interfere with the AI. At all. Ever.”
#
Half an hour later, Charlie tapped his fingers nervously on his desk, waiting for a message from Donna.
An hour later, she still had not signaled her safe arrival at home or at work.
Two hours later, his hair a mess from his hands constantly pulling on it, he began to despair that the plan had not worked. Donna might be dead.
Two and a half hours after Donna left, Charlie sat at his desk, his head resting on his arms, a quiet sob escaping his throat.
Ping!
A text message.
Det. D. L. Charlie, it worked. Drove all over. Highways, mountain roads, shorelines. No problems. Even went past the ditch in the highway where the Ford crashed. Go on home. It’s okay.
C. Marks Thank god. I’m so glad you’re all right. Do you think my car got the message?
Det. D. L. Yep. All good. If our paths don’t cross again, have a good life, Charlie.
C. Marks Ditto. Take care.
Det. D. L. We will.
