We jumped in, Grey taking the captain’s seat. I was hearing emergency vehicle sirens, distant, from many directions. I briefly considered that there were consequences for using EVEext to work from home.
Speaking of whom, she spoke again from my pendant. “Eric, I’m your dating app and I’m afraid that I miscalculated slightly. See that mushroom cloud to the north-northwest? Oh, well. But may I remind you, the EULA you signed clearly states that you agree not to sue if a date turns out to not be quite as advertised. In this case, I must advise you that if you take this ride with these women, you might not remain in the alive state.”
“Oh boy, oh boy, an adventure! Thank you, dating app! Thank you, Grey!”
“Eric,” replied EVEext, “This isn’t a live-action dungeons and dragons game. I’m afraid that my agent Grey must leave you behind.”
“No forking way!” He jumped in with us. “I paid for this date and I’m getting it.”
“One more thing, Eric. I must inform you that if you take this ride, we will be rendezvousing with an upper stratospheric Moravec station.”
“Oh, wow, sure!”
“I also must inform all of you that while I will strive to keep you in the alive state, I cannot guarantee it. This is your last chance to exit this vehicle. Counting down ten, nine, eight…”
As we lifted off, the Asimov’s audiovisual system began playing the driving to Chicago takeoff scene from the Blues Brothers movie. The three of us shouted in unison, along with the movie’s Jake and Elwood, “Hit it.”
That movie was a master class in the move fast and break things philosophy so common in the AI business, the kind of thing a tech billionaire would program into this Asimov’s takeoff sequence.
“Oh, wow,” said Eric. “Are you gals like secret agents?” Then under his breath, “OMG, OMG, OMG…”
As the G forces built, we couldn’t talk anymore. We were working too hard on breathing and keeping a shrinking tunnel of vision from turning into a blackout.
Then the autopilot spoke, “Detecting likely antiaircraft missile with course consistent with interception. Taking evasive action.”
I lost my ice cream. Forking terrorists.
Autopilot again: “Another suspected missile with course consistent with intercepting the first. I recommend that we maintain max gs until we reach the upper stratosphere, then head south to our Moravec Station 3 rendezvous.”
Once the Asimov stopped accelerating, high enough that the sky had turned black, Grey helped me clean up.
“I had no idea you were a pilot. And how did you get this Asimov HOTOL?”
“I’m under an NDA and may have slightly exceeded the parameters of my job with Dewey.”
Continued, Day Two —>
Join BestWorld
We’re looking for individuals like you who are interested in honing their news and forecasting skills. To join our projects, please register using the form below. We’ll reach out to walk you through the next steps.
