The asphalt does not forgive the hubris of the maker.
Beneath the pale sky of Ann Arbor, where the grey stones of the University of Michigan stand as a bulwark against ignorance, men of high learning gathered to ponder a question that weighs heavy upon the soul of the machine: how safe is safe enough for a carriage that moves without a master's hand? A youth of sixteen summers must face the examiners to prove his hand steady and his mind clear before he is granted the right to command a horse of steel, yet the great engines of the new age roam free of such trials. Greg Stevens, a man who once steered the BlueCruise tides for the lords of Ford, now looks upon the Mcity Test Facility and asks if the word of a merchant is enough to protect the lives of the common traveler. Corporate decree is a fickle shield. The Mcity test of 2019. The panel of October. A world waiting for the light of a shared standard.
The watchers on the wall grow few.
In the year 2025, the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration saw its ranks thinned by four parts in a hundred, a culling of probationary souls that leaves the roads less guarded than the seasons of old. While the records of crashes are gathered like brittle parchment, the federal hand remains hesitant to forge a true law for the silicon mind. Yet, there is the promise of a golden dawn in this struggle for order. By demanding a trial by fire—a driver's test for the driverless—we do not stifle the progress of the world; we ensure the path ahead is paved with the certainty that every soul, whether of flesh or circuit, has earned its place under the sun.
If a 16-year-old needs to take a test to determine if they're road ready, why shouldn't a self-driving car?Related perspectives: Visit website
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