The Passengers(79)
‘Come on now, Jack,’ coaxed the Hacker. ‘Either I can tell them or you can. It makes no difference to me how this is exposed.’
Thirty seconds on the clock passed before Jack moved. Without acknowledging anyone, he straightened his tie and made his way towards the tall, wooden exit doors. He lingered where he was standing with his back to his colleagues.
‘I’m afraid it’s your turn to be a Passenger now,’ said the Hacker. ‘Is there something you would like to get off your chest? And remember, honesty is the best policy.’
Jack didn’t respond so the Hacker pressed on. ‘What have you been keeping from the public and your fellow jurors since your inquests began? In a potentially fatal accident, how does a driverless car really make its decision?’
Matthew spoke. ‘I thought we’d adopted the German approach where software must be programmed to avoid injury or death at all cost? The car judges each individual scenario before taking the best course of action resulting in the fewest injuries or fatalities.’
‘And that was the intention when technology was in its infancy,’ the Hacker replied. ‘The public’s biggest concern then was how ethical and moral decisions could be made by robots. The powers-that-be assured us that driverless cars would try to save the most lives possible. And it was enough to appease most of us, even those who feared that car manufacturers would put their Passengers’ safety first. But it was all a lie, wasn’t it, Jack? Because the cars you campaigned for are actually assessing us, and protecting the people that you have decided are the most valuable to society.’
‘What’s he talking about?’ whispered Cadman to one of his team. ‘Why haven’t I read about this online?’
‘What does he mean by “valuable to society”?’ Libby asked.
Jack was unwavering in his silence so the Hacker replied for him.
‘If an accident with a driverless car is unavoidable, the car isn’t only scanning its surroundings to make a decision, it’s scanning you. Everything on your National Identity Card and the information collected on your wearable technology decides, in less than a nanosecond, if you are worth saving or sacrificing.’
Libby shook her head. ‘But the ID cards only contain our basic details like National Insurance numbers, blood type, iris scans, et cetera. How can the value of my life depend on something like my eye colour?’
‘The cards actually collect and hold so much more than that – masses of data harvested from elsewhere you’ve given your information. It stores your medical records, internet search history, online purchases, level of education, average and projected earnings, relationship history, size of your mortgage, criminal record, who you associate with on social media – this list goes on.’
‘So it’s like a constantly evolving biography about our lives?’ asked Matthew.
‘Precisely. It’s a CV that can change daily, hourly even. Then add that to the data on the phones we carry and our wearable tech such as those tracking our activity and health, and, together, it provides a complete picture of who we are, where we belong in society and our role in shaping our country’s future. All that information helps a car rate us before it decides if we are to live or die.’
‘Who does it view are more important than others?’ Fiona asked.
‘Allow me to offer you a few examples. If it’s a choice between an unemployed teenager and a high-ranking council official, the teenager will not come out well. If it’s a pregnant woman and an elderly person living on a state pension, the latter will be sacrificed. An obese person will not fair well against an athlete; likewise a person with a criminal record will fall foul of one without. A police officer outranks a nurse but a doctor outweighs a police officer. A smoker comes before a drug user and a cancer patient takes precedent over someone with a family history of dementia. An MP triumphs over a civil servant but a cabinet minister tops an MP. And so it goes, on and on and on. The person most useful to our society always prevails. None of us are equals when it comes to driverless cars.’
Suddenly the screens became filled with images, data, names, inquest files stamped classified, blueprints and photographs and all with a link to download them. Amongst them, Libby recognised the three victims she had witnessed the death of in Monroe Street.
‘If this is true then I’m speechless,’ said Fiona, ‘I’m actually speechless.’
‘How was this ever sanctioned?’ asked Matthew. ‘Someone must have given it the go-ahead?’
‘It was a select few officials buried deep within Westminster’s walls who decided to use our own data against us and ensure any deaths on roads would not be people who “mattered”. Those offenders, including Jack, tasked with its development and implementation, saw an opportunity to socially cleanse certain members of society they believed didn’t offer enough. They wanted to use our own data against us.’
A hush filled the room as each person digested and processed the Hacker’s accusations. ‘Is this right, Jack?’ asked Muriel. ‘Are we nothing more than data to you?’
Jack shook his head and tugged at the cuffs of his shirt so they could be seen under the sleeves of his jacket. Finally, he turned to face the jurors. ‘The British people have been nothing but data since William I carried out the first census for the Domesday book in 1086,’ he began. ‘All we are, and all we have ever been, are statistics, so let’s not pretend this is a catastrophic crisis that risks tearing apart the very moral fibre of our society. How do you think you are approved for credit cards and loans? How are decisions made on what you pay for insurance? How do we decide the number of immigrants allowed into our country? Acquired data. All that’s happened here is that we’ve reached a new level in our history where decisions have been made as to your importance to your country.’