Kafka Would Know Better Than To Get Into That Thing

More fun with flying cars. It’s an obvious tale, I know, but some people may need reminding of how these things can go.

Promotional art from Bell Helicopter Textron, Inc.and Copyright © to them as well. Call it Fair Use or cross-promotion, it’s all good. Forget that long-dead neurotic Czech, you know you want to ride.

In the news recently was one of those pieces you wonder isn’t a straight-up press release. It’s the same feeling I got reading information technology trade magazines in 2009, when they were crowing about SAAS (software as a subscription service) and everything being done from “the cloud” (someone else’s server). To the detriment of consumers used to paying one fat fee up front for software they can still use when the Internet goes down, some of this actually came to pass.

Ten years later I’m reading aviation trade magazines and there’s quite a bit of buzz for eVTOLs, short for “electronic vertical take-off and landing.” In plain, non-jargony English, electric helicopters. These aren’t your standard single big rotor on top with a smaller stabilizer rotor at the rear, though. In place of the rotors are six ducted fans that tilt like a Bell Boeing V-22 Osprey for flight. 

As high-end CEOs and the like have had rooftop helicopter service taking them to the airport for some time now, I’m guessing this is about bringing this service to The People™, or at least the middle managers. It’s notable that the transport-for-hire company Uber is putting a lot of money into eVTOLs. I can see this becoming the new limousine service in which people of lower income ranges can splurge to show off for special occasions, prom season, etc. Here we are on the rooftop of the Foo-Foo Arms getting ready to board our ride to the airport for our honeymoon. #HighStylin #HatersGonHate #YouWishYouWasUs 

View from the rear seats of the cabin of the Bell Nexus. These lovelies will seat four plus a pilot.

Now imagine a warm spring evening. You call for an Uber. You arrive at the rooftop pad in time for the flying taxi to alight. The turbo fans hum softly on standby as you approach the hatch and flash your credit card, a special screen on your smartphone, or whatever is required to identify yourself. The hatch pops open and slides back. You duck inside.

Strapping in, you hear the faintest whine rising inside the cabin as the fans spin up and the craft lifts gracefully from the top of the skyscraper to the sky. (The noise reduction factor is a major selling point for eVTOLs.) There is no pilot, but those are just for the reassurance of tourists and the prom kids, anyway. For the sake of avoiding collisions with the many such craft in use about the metro area, air traffic control is regulated by sophisticated, self-teaching, super-adaptable software. The voice command “airport” is all you need to get going. I imagine one saying it directly into an app on one’s phone, all the better to facilitate accounting of who’s riding and how the ride is paid for, whether on the company dime or monthly billing. Voice recognition software would provide another level of security. 

Full-tilt boogie. No deafening whup-whup-whup, either. Just hummin’ along.

The sun winks behind the horizon. Yellow tatters of clouds fade to orange across the deepening blue. You look down at the angry red taillights of the traffic glowing like so many demonic eyes from the abyss of the concrete canyons below. Heh. Better to look towards the sunset those poor drones are missing, despite moving only inches per minute.

You chuckle to yourself. “Drones.” That’s what some people still call these remote-control taxis. Irony or coincidence? Coincidence, of course, because it’s clearly a case of one word meaning several different things...it’s then that you realize something’s wrong.

If you lived here...it’d be awful nice.

You’re moving at a wrong angle to the sunset. This isn’t the way to the airport. You pull out your phone. No signal. Which makes no sense, because you have to use your phone to communicate with the taxi.

“Please remain seated with your seat belt fastened,” says the pleasant female voice from the surround-sound speakers. “Emergency landing protocol in progress.”

You fight back panic, and listen for what could possibly be wrong. All six of the ducted fans are working fine. You don’t smell anything burning. You look towards the setting sun, now well off to your right. 

In the long minute you’ve been off-course you note you’ve passed several rooftop landing pads on this side of the city. “Why can’t we land there?” you wonder. The voice recording repeats, and you realize you’ve been squirming against your belt and shoulder harness.

At last you begin to slow. There’s that sound as the ducted fan housings swivel upwards to face the sky, the fans themselves reversing for landing protocol. They sound like they’re working fine. So long as you’re over a pad, all’s well that ends well. You look through the window and down.

A crescent shape blacker than the encroaching night stands about the pad. You recognize the strange bristles as your eyes focus in the dark. They’re none other than the downward-pointed rifle barrels held by law enforcement officers in full tactical gear.

“Please remain seated with your seat belt fastened,” the pleasant female voice repeats from the surround-sound speakers. “Emergency landing protocol in progress.”

Your seat belt and shoulder strap are locked. 

Your phone still reads no signal.

You’re descending to the pad.

Your eyes become level with the darker-than-darkness of their body armor. You can’t see them, but you know those rifle barrels are up and pointed straight at you.

What can this possibly be about? Why did they jam your phone? Who could they have possibly mistaken you for?

Your hands are already on your head as the hatch doors on either side pop open and slide back, and the first officers approach. You can only hope they don’t beat you too badly before you have a chance to clear this up.

Please remain seated with your seat belt fastened....