Arguing with Henry

Consider the true story of Sabine Morceau, who left her home in Belgium on a trip to pick up a friend in Brussels, about 90 miles away. She dutifully followed the directions her GPS gave her, but because she was distracted—that’s what she claims—she didn’t notice that the GPS had led her astray until she was in Zagreb, Croatia. It took her two days to drive those 900 miles. One naturally wonders if Sabine should have had a driver’s license in the first place, but even so, the technology really let her down. Big time.

On a few occasions I’ve found that the speech recognition software in my smartphone has stubbornly failed to correctly interpret my voice, even when carefully enunciated with perfect diction. I don’t recall the specifics, but it goes something like this: “Directions to ONE FIF-TY WAL-NUT LANE, GREER, SOUTH CAR-O-LINA.” “I’m sorry, I can’t find one fife piglet in Greer, South Carolina.” Another tech failure.

Today I asked my smartphone a very simple question: “Why are you a nincompoop?” She promptly translated it as “Why are you an income poop?” While I found this rather amusing (and I struggled to remember whether Bernie Sanders had ever said this to Donald Trump during the recent presidential primary), it’s just another example of how temperamental and unpredictable speech recognition algorithms can be. And I’m supposed to believe that voice-controlled autonomous automobiles will be good for society.

This week Ford Motor Company announced that it will be selling fully autonomous cars in five years. Reports indicate that these automobiles won’t have steering wheels, gas pedals, or brake pedals, which means that people won’t be able to control these cars. This makes some of Ford’s past advertising slogans laughably obsolete. Things like “Everything we do is driven by you” and “Have you driven a Ford lately?” No, I haven’t. It won’t let me. What will the new slogan be? “Have you not driven a Ford lately?”

I started daydreaming about what it would be like to have my very own autonomous Ford. I’ll name him Henry, and then Carla and I will boldly set out to go where no autonomous automobile has gone before. Here’s what I’m expecting from our first outing.

“Henry, let’s drive to the campus of Bob Jones University.”

“OK, Brian, I’ll take you there. And while I’m driving, I’m going to show you some fascinating videos that illustrate how much autonomous vehicles will improve the quality of life in America.”

Henry started the engine, backed out the garage, and proceeded up the driveway. He turned on his screen and began to show videos of Americans in autonomous cars happily using their smartphones while completely ignoring traffic. Some of them were putting on makeup; others were eating. They didn’t manually use their turn signals, and many behaved as if they were the only people on the road. Something about this seemed oddly familiar, but it was all so fascinating that I became deeply absorbed and didn’t notice how much progress we had made. We were already heading down North Pleasantburg Drive near Sunshine Cycle Shop and were only about a half-mile from campus.

“Carla, look, look! I’m not driving! I’m not driving!”

“Yes, dear, that’s very interesting. Can we go somewhere to eat now?”

“Henry, take us to Henry's Smokehouse on Wade Hampton Boulevard.”

“I’m sorry, Brian, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s against EPA regulations for me to smoke at my house. Haven’t you heard about the VW diesel scandal?”

“Yes, yes, and we own one of those cars, but the scandal has to do with nitrogen oxides, not smoke. Don’t you know how to read? And besides, you’re not a diesel, anyway. And it’s a restaurant, not your house.”

“Look, Brian, I have a better idea, and I think you should go along with it.”

At this point Henry turned into the IHOP (formerly known as the International House of Pancakes^®) parking lot. He loaded the menu and showed it on his screen.

“I recommend you try the cheeseburger omelette. With 1450 calories and 104 g of fat it’s an outstanding energy source.”

“Henry, we don’t want cheeseburger omelettes. And we don’t want to go to IHOP, either.”

“But Brian, IHOP makes high-quality food. And remember, quality is job one.”

“HENRY!! We don’t want to go to IHOP! Drive us out of here, NOW!!”

“OK, Brian, but I’m concerned about your frame of mind. I’m going to take you home for a cooling off period. After you’ve settled down for a couple hours I’ll be glad to take you out again. I have more videos, too.”

Brian (agitated): “HENRY, WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH A NINCOMPOOP?”

At this moment we happened to be driving past a TD Bank (America’s Most Convenient Bank^®), and Henry turned in and picked the spot nearest the front door.

“Brian, the nice people at this place can help you with your income poops.”

“AAARGH!! Where’s the Tylenol^®?”