Bicycling in a hilly, hectic city like San Francisco supplies a cognitive along with a physical exercise. I make it through in traffic by flexing not just my quadriceps however my theory of mind, the capability to envision the thoughts and objectives of others: Will the man riding a Bird scooter swerve to avoid that hole? Will the UPS driver attempt to run that yellow light? But self-driving cars and trucks stump me.
Last year, when General Motors stepped up testing of its Cruise self-governing lorries, I started to experience the sporty white hatchbacks with rooftop sensing units when or more every day. At first the cars and trucks were overcautious and twitchy, earning mad honks from human motorists for unneeded braking and hesitant turns. With time, I felt able to read and even make use of these timorous robotics. If I wandered off from the bike lane, they would hang back, providing me extra room to maneuver. At four-way stops, they tended to dither, allowing me to dart ahead.
Then a number of Cruise cars amazed me one week with display screens of more positive driving. Rather than meekly waiting behind bikes, they zipped past. My theory of robotic mind was vaporized, changed by a sensation of worry: As AI grows more capable and assertive, how will we associate with it?
Usually speaking, people adjust well to brand-new technologies