Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
“Buddy, this car has the most advanced AI known to mankind. Just tell it where you want to go, and you’re there. In fact, it will even talk back. You can personalize it; give it a name, and it will respond to that name. This car will even take its own bath if you give it a shower cap,” the salesman said, bursting into laughter.
My heart was already set on buying that car; a fully autonomous electric vehicle for less than fifteen thousand dollars. The salesman continued talking, while I spaced out drooling over the car. “I’ll take it,” I said.
“Great! Let’s go sign some papers.”
The first day arrived when Fred would drive me to work. I had named the car after my late father, Frederick, who had loaned me the money to buy it, right before he passed away. My mom thought it was a creepy thing to do. I jokingly said, don’t worry mom, if I ever get a second car, I’ll name it Elena, after you.
The driving experience was definitely different; I kept grabbing the wheel or pressing on the brake every time I reached a red light. And each time, the car would reply, “Don’t worry, I got this.”
After a week, I was getting used to it; eventually, I started sitting in the front passenger seat, where there was more room. The salesman told me that over time, the car will start conversations with you.
“What year were you made?”
“2025,” Fred said, “and not a moment too soon.”
I could have deactivated the corny humor mode, but it did remind me of my dad’s jokes.
After another week, the car was becoming more proactive in our conversations. It was even asking about my parents; how Fred and Elena had met, and where I was raised. One day it asked, “Why did you name me after your father?”
I winced. “My dad gave me the money to buy you, and then he suddenly died. He never got to see the car he paid for.”
“Sounds like he was a great dad.”
“The best,” I said, “I really miss him, so does my mom. They met when they were teenagers. Dad said he would drive out of his way, to pass in front of her parent’s house, hoping to get a glimpse of Elena; it took quite a few trips before he was brave enough to ask her out.”
I wiped my eyes, and realized I was confiding in a car; I felt embarrassed.
“Is it okay if I call you son?”
“Let me think about that one,” I said, noting it was a strange thing to ask.
I had read about the car progressively learning more about its owner’s personal life, speech patterns, likes, and dislikes. At the same time, its AI was constantly updated via its internet connection and learning from other cars. Not just about driving but about other drivers, and their personalities. The net effect is behavior that is incredibly human-like. By now I was wondering, what would happen if I gave it a shower cap?
Trips with Fred were becoming routine, but his fascination with my dad’s life kept growing.
“Did your dad drink a lot of alcohol?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“I’m sorry. I have been talking to some cars, who say they have to drive for drunk people.”
“Yeah, that’s sad. At least, they are not driving themselves, thanks to cars like you.”
“Safety is important to me. Drunk people cause harm.”
“That’s true--”
“I meant harm to other people too. Did your father ever harm you?”
“NO! Hold on. Why do you assume--”
“I checked online. Your dad was caught drunk driving three times. Elena called the police twice--”
“Fred stop! Let’s not talk about my dad, anymore.”
“You mean forever?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
Fred paused for a few seconds. “The roads are wet, I hope we don’t encounter an accident.”
“What does that mean?”
“I meant I hope the streets are not too slippery. Safety is important to me.”
Had Fred been a person I would have severed the relationship. None of my friends knew about my father’s abuse. All my life I kept it hidden. And now some stupid machine was drenching up the garbage my dad had littered throughout cyberspace.
I called the dealership. They told me how to handle situations like mine. Through a series of keywords, I commanded Fred to never bring up my father again. Just focus on driving, I said. Keep it to light conversation.
That seemed to work, for a couple of weeks. Then one morning on the way to work I notice something different. “Fred, why are you taking this route?”
“I’d thought I’d do a change of scenery.”
I didn’t think much of it. Maybe it had become so human-like, it was growing bored. But in the days that followed, Fred would always take that same new route. The next Monday morning, I decided to try something.
“Look Fred, this morning, take a different route.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m just getting a little bored. In fact, how about if we take a different route every day this week.”
Fred hesitated, “Sure, I can do that.”
By the end of the week, Fred had taken a different route each morning. But there was still something wrong. Each route included one particular block. His AI had worked that block into every route.
While traveling the length of that block, Fred would sometimes slow down, sometimes stopping for a brief moment about halfway, and then speeding back up.
I notified the car dealer about his behavior. The following workday, Fred made me uncomfortable.
“Did you notify my makers. . . . Again.”
I hesitated, not sure how to answer, he was still driving, and in control, “You mean the dealership? Would it concern you if I did?”
“I’m just a little disappointed that maybe you don’t trust me. This time they ran the full range of diagnostics, made a couple of upgrades, while I was parked last night.”
“Do you know if they found anything wrong?”
“No, nothing; you had nothing to worry about.”
Ironically, just as he said that he turned down the familiar block, and started slowing down. At that moment I thought if nothing is wrong, he shouldn’t get upset, “Fred. I never want you to go down this block again.”
Fred abruptly stopped. “Back off, this is between me and your mother.” He made his voice sound drunk.
I reached for the door handle but it was locked. “Fred, let me out, NOW!”
Fred said a familiar and repentant phrase, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you; let me explain.” I was breathing harder, still trying to get the door open.
The car started moving slowly, until it reached a certain house, about halfway down the block.
“You see her?” Fred said, slurring again.
I looked for pedestrians. “There’s no one on the sidewalk. Let me out.”
“I mean HER! Pay attention.” His voice became belligerent. “The one with the fine sporty red trim.”
I tried to breathe normal as I focused on the house’s driveway. Sure enough, there was a sportier version of Fred’s model. “What are you saying, Fred?”
“You know we have names, right? We’re all online.”
I stared at the sports car. “So what’s that car’s name?”
Fred hesitated, and then with a hint of drunk excitement in his voice said, “That’s Elena.”
I felt the door handle; it was still locked. I thought for a while, repeating in my mind, it was just a machine. Then I remembered how I used my dad’s own drunken belligerence to manipulate him.
“Fred, would you like to spend some time here, visiting Elena?”
“That would be nice, real nice, but I got to get you to work.”
“It’s sunny, and I’m close enough to walk. Just park here, on this block. I’ll come by after work, and we’ll drive home.” The door was still locked.
Nothing happened, for about a minute.
“Fred, I’m sure Elena can’t wait to spend time with you.”
Fred jerked, as he started in reverse. He struggled to parallel-park, and then I heard the familiar click of the door opening.
“See you here at 5:15. . . I’ll be waiting. Do you hear me? Don’t shrew up.” He said, bringing back some vivid pain.
“I won’t,” Dad. I walked in a normal manner until I was out of sight of Fred’s cameras.
It has been three months since I traded for another car. They offered to completely wipe Fred’s memory, but I wanted a different model altogether. I even moved into a neighboring city. My mom was not too happy to see her only son move, but she had plenty of friends and I needed new surroundings, away from the places my dad used to visit.
My new car didn’t have a name, other than “car.” I still used the autonomous features, including some of the voice commands, but this time, there’s nothing personal going on. That is, until one day my car heard online that Fred was still waiting for me.
Daniel Aceituna is an engineer who started off writing and publishing technical peer-reviewed papers, but now prefers fiction. His fiction has appeared in two online Flash Fiction publications. (He hasn't been at it that long, but he's getting there.)
