[ WP ] Your future self driving car has to choose between saving you or saving some strangers ( from r/futurology )

You are sitting in court, a hurriedly-bought suit slightly loose around your shoulders. The defense attorney, Mr. Sol, is pacing. His movement temporarily distracts the jury ’ s eyes. You pray thanks for the reprieve. 
 
 He stops and turns on heel and toe like a soldier. He is a middle-aged man, heavyset and prematurely balding, with thick eyebrows and a large nose. “ You say that your car was in automatic at the time ” —he gestures toward you with outstretched arms— “ correct? ” 
 
 You say, “ Yes, ” and then remember your attorney ’ s advice to look at the jury when you answer. You glance to the side. Twelve gazes meet yours. You look quickly at your attorney—Ms. Markel is busy writing something—and then back at Mr. Sol. 
 
 He seems composed, but you wonder if his pacing is meant to cover up uncertainty. “ So you accept that, by setting the car in automatic, you relinquished all driving decisions to your vehicle. Correct? ” 
 
 “ I... ” You look at the jury. “ Well—I did so because I trusted my car to make the right decisions. ” A rehearsed answer, but it is better than nothing. 
 
 Mr. Sol nods. “ So, Mr. Delaney, did you read your car ’ s user manual? ” 
 
 “ Yes, like I said— ” 
 
 “ So you know that your car is programmed to prevent *as much* injury or loss of life *as possible*. ” 
 
 “ Objection, ” Ms. Markel says suddenly, standing up. Her chair is pushed back a few inches. Her bobbed blonde hair frames her stoic expression. “ Your Honor, the question is irrelevant. ” 
 
 “ Defense? ” asks the judge. Her hair is jet-black with traces of gray, her features faintly Indian, her lips tomato-red with lipstick. You forgot her name. 
 
 Mr. Sol tilts his head and clasps his hands behind his back. “ The question is very relevant, Your Honor. The witness should have known what the car was programmed to do. ” 
 
 The judge nods in turn. “ Objection overruled. Mr. Sol, continue. ” 
 
 “ Yes, Your Honor, ” says Mr. Sol. Ms. Markel sits down. “ Mr. Delaney, if you would answer the question... ” 
 
 You can hear your civil suit crashing around your ears. The jury is regarding you with impatience. You fidget and wonder if the judge is staring at you, too, but you do not dare look in her direction. 
 
 “ I ’ m sorry—can you repeat the question? ” 
 
 “ Yes. Were you aware that your car was programmed to prevent as much injury or death as possible? ” 
 
 “ Um, yes. I am aware of that. But I thought that the car would— ” 
 
 “ Therefore, ” interjects Mr. Sol, “ you should have known that your car ’ s programming would force it to protect— ” 
 
 “ Objection, ” says Ms. Markel. “ Opposing counsel is badgering my witness. ” 
 
 “ Overruled, ” says the judge. 
 
 Mr. Sol has control. You can see how he holds in his hands every thread of attention in the courtroom. He nears the witness stand and stares up at you. “ Would you answer the question? ” 
 
 You realize his pacing was not to cover uncertainty but its opposite. Corporate lawyers tend to be confident. They are paid to be. 
 
 “ Could you restate the question? ” 
 
 “ You should have known your car ’ s programming would force it to protect the three pedestrians crossing the street. Correct? ” 
 
 You hesitate. 
 
 “ I thought it would protect me as well, ” you say. 
 
 ~ 
 
 Smoke rises from your car ’ s hood. Your radio is still playing the local classic rock station. Something by Deep Purple. The deflated airbag covers your lap like a blanket. 
 
 The three young men you saw stepping into the street before the crash now mill a ways beyond your cracked windshield. One of them is on his cell phone. You can not hear his voice. 
 
 The world is tilting back and forth, like a wobbling top spun by a fidgeting child. 
 
 Your car ’ s navigational system can not account for such human errors.
