The Holy Driver: When Virtual Meets Reality

EDITOR'S NOTE: "The Holy Driver"—chapter six from the book AI 2041: Ten Visions for Our Future by Kai-Fu and Chen Qiufan—tells the story of Chamal, a talented and cocky young gamer from Sri Lanka who is recruited by his uncle to take part in a mysterious Chinese project. At first, the game he's been tasked with playing is like other driving simulations he's mastered, but soon it begins to dawn on Chamal that something is very different—very real—about the game's increasingly more difficult scenarios. Set roughly two decades in the future, "The Holy Driver" examines the various ethical and moral issues around artificial intelligence and autonomy that are sure to arise as the world and technology moves forward. The following is an excerpt from the chapter.

JUST AS HE HAD at the VR Café, Chamal made it to the top of the training center's ranking list in no time.

He was no longer the beginner who panicked at the sight of traffic and pedestrians. And it wasn't just driving for driving's sake. Chamal began receiving missions, with instructions from the technicians in the training center. The missions were always similar in terms of structure, but with variations in story line. Sometimes they were outlandish, like an alien invasion. Sometimes they were chillingly realistic, like a terrorist attack that caused roads to crumble and cars to crash into one another.

Complex landscapes, erratic drivers . . . nothing could ruffle Chamal. He quickly tallied the most points among the group of gamers that Yang Juan had recruited from all over Sri Lanka. The young drivers became fast friends during their daily training. Still, his cohorts watched Chamal with jealous eyes as he swaggered out of the room each day—everyone knew that more points meant more money.

Other drivers tried to pry tips and tactics out of him. Chamal tossed his hair. "I was born to drive," he said, a little too cockily.

***

CHAMAL HAD DISCOVERED THAT the game did not give him infinite routes. The landscapes that came up the most frequently were primarily replicas of real-life cities, spanning the Middle East to East Asia: Abu Dhabi Satellite City, Hyderabad, Bangkok, the Singaporean man-made island, the Greater Bay Area of Guangdong-Hong Kong-Macao, Shanghai Lingang, Xiong'an New Area, Chiba of Japan—places that, until now, Chamal had only read about online.

One day Chamal received instructions to complete a mission on the Singaporean man-made island. A disturbance on the ocean floor in North Java had triggered a tsunami and the infrasound completely paralyzed the island's automated smart transportation system. A ten-meter tsunami would hit the island in exactly six minutes. Over a hundred dysfunctional autonomous cars and their passengers were careening down the roadway, likely to crash or, like sitting ducks, be washed away.

Chamal and the other racers were instructed to seize the wheels of these vehicles, turn on manual control before more accidents could happen, and help connect the cars to the emergency network infrastructure. The network would then take over, directing the cars to the nearest evacuation zone, saving the passengers' lives.

It was the most difficult and thrilling game Chamal had ever played.

His virtual avatar hopped from one driver's seat to another, taking control of the wheel in mere seconds, evading fallen debris as he sped to safer ground. Jump. The procedure was simple and natural, as if it was a part of his nerve reflex. Jump again. As the blood-red countdown was rapidly approaching zero, a shimmering white line emerged in the gray-blue horizon on the periphery of Chamal's view, and it advanced toward the shore, thickening and rising every second.

Chamal had no time to appreciate the sublime violence of nature, nor feel any fear. He was like a ghost that possessed those massive, sturdy bodies of steel and iron, connecting them to the network, and sending them on a path to safety. The delightful sound of coins clinking against one another rang on incessantly as his score rocketed at the top edge of the screen. The corners of his mouth twitched. He could feel the flow returning to his body.

The fatal Java tsunami was closer now. Faster. Chamal wanted to earn as many points as possible before the game ended. Every millisecond that slipped through his fingers meant less tuition money for his younger siblings and less living budget for his entire family. The world—and his family—depended on the speed of his mental and physical reactions.

As Chamal was about to leap into an SUV, the roaring wall of water and foam finally caught up to him. The graphics of the game were not the best; he could even see the jaggies and pixelation as the tide swallowed him whole. Before the screen went dark, he caught a last glimpse of a few cars in the near distance that were washed away instantaneously by the merciless wave. He let out a heavy, regretful sigh. Every car he didn't save meant fewer points.

Game over.

Chamal, now back to reality, found himself drenched in sweat. He was so exhausted that he couldn't even climb out from the cockpit. Two staff members had to carry him.

Alice told him to take some time off. In the days that followed, even tasks as simple as eating with a spoon gave Chamal trouble. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. The great, ferocious tide haunted him in his dreams. That mission seemed to have deprived him of all of his energy, creating a void in his mind and body.

Chamal normally had little interest in the news, but as he lay in his bedroom recovering, he overheard a report coming from the television in the kitchen, where his parents were sitting with Uncle Junius. The newscaster was talking about a tsunami that had occurred in Kanto, Japan.

Slowly, Chamal got up from the bed and staggered to the kitchen. On the TV screen, he watched surveillance footage recorded during the final moments before the tsunami hit the coastal highway. Cars, as light and powerless as toy figures made from paper and clay, were overturned and devoured by the waves, disappearing into the dark water.

Chamal's heart raced. The scene before his eyes was uncannily familiar. The status of the roads, the position of the cars, the scattered debris . . . it was an exact replica of the final scene in the game, which had been imprinted into his mind that day.

No! That's impossible! I only played a game!

"Uncle, that was only a game, wasn't it?"

Junius was silent a moment. "Chamal, I want you to meet someone."

***

BACK AT THE TRAINING facility in the ReelX Center, Uncle Junius led Chamal through a door and down a corridor that Chamal had never seen before. At the end of the hallway, they entered an office decorated lavishly with local folk art and ornaments, resembling an absurdly large collection of holiday souvenirs.

"Dear Chamal, we meet at last."

A woman dressed in all white stood from the sofa, bent down, and reached for Chamal's hand. Shyly, Chamal offered his own. The woman's grip was sturdy and her palm warm.

She motioned for them to sit.

"My name is Yang Juan. You can call me Yang, or Jade. I understand they call you 'the ghost,' Chamal."

Chamal blushed as Yang Juan continued speaking.

"I am in charge of ReelX's Sri Lanka branch. I've seen all of your game data. Without doubt, you're born to be a driver."

By now Chamal's cheeks were burning.

"Well, your uncle told me you might have some questions. I'll do my best to answer them."

Chamal bit his lip. What should I say? How can I sound respectful, polite, and dignified, like the way Mother taught me? He wanted to choose his words carefully, but he was too worn out to think straight. "The tsunami . . . it was real." Words slipped out before he could contain them. "All of this is fake," Chamal stammered.

"This isn't exactly a question, is it?" Yang Juan winked. "You're expecting a certain kind of answer from me. You want me to tell you that the game is either real or fake—choose one or the other, right?"

Chamal's head began to spin. "Is there a third possibility?"

"Let me ask you first: Do you think the tsunami was real?"

"Of course."

"Was the tsunami in the game real?"

"That was fake."

"How about the cars?"

"The landscape seemed real and the course of action they took seemed real, but the cars themselves were fake."

"Then, do you think you really helped save those cars and people?"

"I—I—" Chamal stuttered. "I don't know."

Yang Juan shrugged, but her expression was sympathetic.

"But I know you're lying!" Chamal blurted out. "If the tsunami happened in Japan, why did you have to tell us it was Singapore? If our actions affected reality, why did you have to tell us it was a game?"

Yang Juan sat silently, letting the question hang in the air. Finally, she spoke. "Before I answer, I need to ask you something first. Only answer with yes or no." Squatting, Yang Juan lowered her body to the ground, so that she could look directly into Chamal's eyes.

"Do you want to go to China?"

"What?" Chamal was taken by surprise.

"Remember, this is a yes or no question." Yang Juan grinned upon seeing the look of astonishment and awkwardness on the boy's face. "You are our best driver. A trip to China is the bonus reward for your work. I think you'll find the answer to your question there."

"You mean driving in China?" Chamal frowned. "If that's the case, then I've been to many places in China already."

It was Yang Juan's turn to be stunned. It took her a few seconds to realize that Chamal was talking about virtual reality. "I'm not trying to trick you." Yang Juan laughed. "I meant going to China for real. You will physically take a plane and go to China, breathe the air, eat the food, and test out the landscape with your own feet. Do you want to go?"

Chamal lowered his eyes and contemplated. Finally, he looked up at Yang Juan, nodded his head, and gave the woman a dignified smile.

***

A STRONG VIBRATION WOKE Chamal from his sleep. Thinking he was still in the game, he instinctively reached for his helmet, but there was nothing on his head. He opened his eyes and squinted at the bright morning sun coming in through the porthole-shaped window. Outside were endless rows of sleek jumbo jets.

The plane had arrived at the Shenzhen Bao'an International Airport. As Chamal and his uncle walked down the jet-bridge and into the terminal, he marveled at all he was seeing. Everything here was colossal and brand-new; rays of sunlight shone through the hexagonal carve-outs on the white ceiling like a heavy meteor shower, illuminating the travelers hurrying from one destination to another.

Zeng Xinlan, a talkative, cheerful young employee from ReelX's Shenzhen headquarters, picked them up at the airport. Upon meeting Chamal and Junius, she put her hands together and said "Ayubowan," greeting her Sri Lankan visitors in their native language. Junius returned the blessing and Chamal copied his uncle.

They walked to the autonomous vehicle pickup zone together. Almost as soon as they arrived, a white SUV glided into the lane and came to a stop before them. Its doors swung open. Chamal climbed into the spacious back seat with Junius. The cool breeze of the car's air-conditioning relieved the stickiness from the humid outside air almost instantaneously.

The car took off. Unlike the cars Chamal was used to, the engine of the SUV was nearly silent, and the acceleration was so smooth that he barely felt anything.

"Most of the roads and vehicles in Shenzhen support L5-level autonomous driving now. With the driver's seat no longer exclusive to the driver, not only can we fit more people into a car, but everyone can sit more comfortably as well. Minicars reserved for one or two passengers are also available." Zeng Xinlan smiled. "The smart control system decides which available car to send and calculates the optimal path to take based on the passengers' location and walking speed, to maximize airport efficiency and reduce passengers' waiting time. The road we're on right now is specifically designed to accommodate autonomous vehicles. The smart sensors installed along the road communicate in real time with the control system on every car and the traffic management infrastructure in the cloud, to ensure safety and orderliness."

Chamal thought she sounded a bit robotic, as she recited this explanation.

Junius pressed his face against the window. "Shenzhen looks so different from the last time I visited!" he exclaimed.

"You've been to Shenzhen before?" asked Chamal, surprised.

"Many years ago. I remember seeing a construction team working on the first of these 'smart' roads—they're everywhere now!"

"Typical Shenzhen development speed," Zeng Xinlan said with a grin. "Wait till you see more!"

Chamal stared out the window at the foreign city, dazed. Skyscrapers extended upward as if they were infinite, their tips disappearing into the clouds. The outer walls of the buildings were made from smooth, shiny material that reflected sunlight, making them seem as if they were wrapped in cloaks of light that changed patterns and design when the sun's angle shifted. Shenzhen was pristine and orderly. He couldn't figure out how this was possible. It was as if millions of invisible puppet strings were hanging from heaven, controlling every road, every car, and every person in this enormous city, weaving them into an all-encompassing web.

But who's pulling those strings?

"Look!" Zeng Xinlan shouted.

Chamal and Junius looked in the direction her finger was pointing. In the lanes of opposing traffic, the vehicles suddenly parted. One by one the cars glided to the sides of the highway, creating an empty lane in the middle. A faint siren grew louder as an ambulance suddenly sped through the gap in traffic. As soon as it had passed, the cars slid back into their original positions, as if nothing had happened. The entire process took mere seconds, and, apart from the siren, was nearly silent, without so much as a single honk.

"How is this possible?" Chamal was nearly speechless.

"Think about it this way. We humans don't crash into one another when we run, because our eyes observe, our brains calculate distance, and our legs adjust speed and posture. The same goes for these cars," said Zeng Xinlan with a shrug. "The sensors, camera lens, and LiDARs are its eyes; the control system is its brain. All of the above are connected to the engine and gears, the car's legs."

"Chamal, imagine if this technology were available in Sri Lanka," muttered Junius. He remembered what had happened to his mother. She could've been saved from her heart attack if only the ambulance had been able to get her to the hospital in time. It was not the heart attack that killed her, but the traffic.

A new message alert popped up on the dashboard, and the message was broadcast in flawless standard Mandarin through the speakers.

"Oh, it's the marathon," Zeng Xinlan explained.

Before Chamal could press for details, their car changed direction, rerouting toward the nearest off-ramp. In fact, all the cars on the highway seemed to have received the same alert at once: Like a squadron of fighter jets changing formation, the traffic dispersed into new formations as the vehicles headed to the exits.

Chamal was stunned when his gaze landed on Zeng Xinlan, who had assumed the driver's seat. The autonomous vehicles back home in Sri Lanka, despite how widely they were deployed these days, were unable to shift around with such precision without the aid of human drivers. However, Zeng Xinlan, with her hands off the wheel, was obviously not operating the car.

"What's happening now?" asked Chamal.

"Aha! It's your lucky day. You're just in time to see the upgraded city traffic system in action. The city's annual marathon will soon begin, and we're all being rerouted."

Chamal stared dazedly at the traffic, trying to digest all that he was seeing and hearing. He felt immersed in a dream world.

***

BEFORE THEY VISITED REELX'S headquarters, Zeng Xinlan took them to a Cantonese restaurant in Qianhai.

Chamal stuffed his face with the foreign yet delicious cuisine, while Junius stared fixedly out the window.

"What's so interesting out there?" asked Zeng Xinlan as she picked up a shrimp dumpling and put it down on Junius's plate.

"Even . . . even the horizon has changed," murmured Junius, bewildered.

"Well, land reclamation is one of Shenzhen's long-term projects. I heard the same is happening in Sri Lanka?"

Every time Chamal passed by the coastal road in Colombo, he would catch a glimpse of the trailing suction hopper dredgers near the coast of Port City. Those behemoths lifted their long snouts and spat out arcs of mud and sand, which glistened like gold in the sun. All the dredgers came from China; they were helping Sri Lanka with the colossal feat of creating new land and reshaping the sea horizon.

"Sri Lanka, a bright pearl of the maritime silk road," Zeng Xinlan commented, mocking the tone of Chinese news broadcasters.

Chamal put down his chopsticks. "Are there any cars left for humans, then?" he asked, timidly voicing the question that had been on his mind for hours.

"Not all cars can be switched to manual mode," said Zeng Xinlan. "We have human drivers, too, but they are limited to human-only roads and they are required to use a complementary AI device while driving. It's so much more difficult to pass the driver's license exam these days. No place for hooligans."

"If that's the case, why are we needed?" Chamal turned to Junius, gazing directly into his eyes.

Junius and Zeng Xinlan exchanged glances. "Of course you're important," replied Zeng Xinlan. She looked at Chamal, her face solemn. "Even the most advanced AI makes mistakes. What if an explosion destroys a road, making it impossible to follow the digital map, or there's a natural disaster that suddenly creates chaos? This is when people like you come in—a hero to save the day."

"But I don't want to be a hero," Chamal blurted out. "I only want to play games, earn some points, and help out my family."

Junius evaded Chamal's gaze.

All of a sudden, Zeng Xinlan let out a giggle and broke the awkward silence. "Look at you two! Like uncle, like nephew. Chamal, when your uncle first joined our project, he told us the exact same thing! Am I right, Junius?"

Junius, now blushing, poked at his soup with his spoon.

"Wait, you also . . . ?" Chamal's eyes widened.

"He never told you?" Zeng Xinlan shot Junius a surprised look.

Chamal shook his head.

"I didn't want to give you the wrong impression," whispered Junius, finally finding the right words. "I know what other people say behind my back. They think I've been helping ReelX do bad things, so the Buddha decided to punish me by crippling my leg."

Chamal was not a stranger to the gossip, but he had never imagined the truth.

"Your uncle used to be our best driver. Before he retired from the injury, he saved many lives."

"So you used to be a ghost driver, just like me," Chamal repeated. "But how can ghosts get injured?"

"This was a decade ago, Chamal. It was an earlier version of the program, a more primitive version," Uncle Junius said. "There have always been risks, but they are smaller now."

"That's why it's necessary we call the procedure a game," interjected Zeng Xinlan, her tone serious again. "The human species is far more delicate than machines. A human driver's reaction time and performance level can be affected by even the most insignificant emotional response."

"So that's why Uncle lied to me, telling me that I was only there to play a game," muttered Chamal. I used to believe that Uncle would never lie to me.

"Chamal," Junius said, letting out a sigh. "Let me tell you a story."

***

A DECADE AGO, JUNIUS was conducting a mission in the SichuanTibet region after a major earthquake. His objective was to transport emergency medical supplies to the trapped victims. The aftershocks were relentless; GPS was failing due to roads blocked by landslides. Ghost drivers were the only option. At first, Junius managed to evade danger, but after an especially powerful aftershock, debris began pouring down the mountain like a deadly rain. Struggling to dodge rocks and mud while maintaining control on the winding road, Junius failed to notice a giant boulder plunging down from his left. It landed on his car hood, smashing the car's left side into the ground.

A piercing pain shot down Junius's left leg; it was the force feedback at work. He knew that his physical body was unharmed. It was synesthesia. A healthy amount of body synesthesia—simulation of real senses through virtual reality—was beneficial to virtual rescue drivers, because it stimulated cognitive capacity and produced adrenaline, enhancing their performance level. However, what constituted "a healthy amount" varied from driver to driver, mission to mission. Upon seeing the disaster-stricken Sichuan-Tibet region, Junius had deliberately pushed the synesthesia values up. So many lives depended on him; he could not bear the thought of letting them down.

With his leg screaming in pain, Junius tried different ways to get the car moving again, but it wouldn't budge; the wheels would only spin uselessly. With every passing second, hope grew dimmer. He was overwhelmed with guilt and despair. I failed them. His injured leg felt numb now, as if it were no longer a part of his body.

In the end, the military was able to pull drones from other sectors and send out an emergency deployment. The medical supplies reached the people in need, after all. However, ever since that day, Junius's leg had been stuck in a limbo between the real and the virtual, as if time had forgotten it, freezing it forever in that moment of pain and regret.

***

"IF WE THINK OF it as a game, we'll feel less pain," said Chamal, after Junius had finished talking. He could understand where Junius was coming from now, yet there was still one thing he just couldn't wrap his head around. "But why? Why do we have to endure all this?"

"To make a living, I guess, and save some lives along the way. It's important to invest in our karma," said Junius with a self-deprecating smile. "One day we may need saving, too."

After lunch, they visited ReelX's headquarters. While they were in the lab, Chamal couldn't tear his eyes away from the newest force-feedback suit and brainwave-connected helmet displayed in the window. Zeng Xinlan, noticing the boy's widened eyes, promised him a set of tailor-made equipment—as long as he was willing to stay and complete ReelX's missions.

Chamal, caressing the graphene fabric that was as light as silk yet as impenetrable as steel, silently mulled over all that he had learned that day.

Indeed, Chamal felt that he'd witnessed the future in one afternoon—although he wasn't sure whether it was the same future that Junius had mentioned. The future, in his eyes, was foreign, grandiose, and immensely confusing. The autonomous cars and smart roads that he had seen on the trip were only the tip of the iceberg. Chamal used to think that technology was like Father's car, in which straightforward, countable components like bearings, gears, and cords had been assembled piece by piece, and everything was clear-cut and apparent to the eye. Now he realized that technology was more like Mother's favorite sari: The drape was delicate gossamer, embroidered with a variety of patterns, yet when Mother folded it and wrapped it around her body, the sari looked different, like layers of hazy clouds bundled together and solidified into a definite, concrete shape.

BY CHEN QIUFAN, TRANSLATED BY EMILY JIN, EXCERPTED FROM AI 2041: TEN VISIONS FOR OUR FUTURE

The cover of "AI 2041: Ten Visions For Our Future" with authors Kai-Fu Lee (L) and Chen Qiufan (R).