By John Cosper

It's a feeling every man imagines, few men pursue, and even fewer attain. Some call it nirvana, some self-actualization. It's the knowledge and sense of well-being that comes only from achieving whatever act of greatness an individual accepts as nothing less than their destiny.

Dr. E. J. Forrester did not presume to know if this sensation was that nirvana, but he believed himself to be as close as he could ever come.

The car purred beneath him as it cruised down Spring Street. He found himself, as usual, fighting the urge to hold on to the vestigial steering wheel before him, but kept his hands in his lap, content to lay back and enjoy the ride, aided by the soothing sounds of Paul Simon on the stereo.

"Cruising speed thirty-five miles per hour, approaching first stop point." Forrester could hear the technicians at Traffic Control calling out commands to each other on the radio through his earpiece, but chose not to be distracted. That was the point of this exercise, right? Worry-free, stress-free, computer-monitored transportation.

The entire city was now wired. More than two thousand cameras, sensors, monitors, transmitters, and other control devices were now in place, both on the streets and in the vehicles licensed to roam the streets of Louisville 2055. They were the neurons, the many parts that made up Forrester's dream project, ACTS - Automated Computerized Transit System.

Here, at 1 AM in the morning, Dr. Forrester was enjoying the fruits of his labor, a totally automated, speedy, and secure ride through the city he loved.

"Vehicle stopped safely, awaiting signal change. Phase one of test complete." Forrester's niece Rachel sat at the heart of Traffic Control. Having lost her father, Forrester's brother Charlie, at age ten to a car accident, she was the inspiration for the ACTS project. It warmed the old man's heart how she chose to study mathematics and computer sciences, forsaking family and social life, to fulfill their dream.

"Travel resuming, phase two now in progress." It was all academic to Forrester. Phase one was a simple test to make sure all systems were functioning properly. Having established the reliability of the system, they would now test the speed limits. Forrester theorized that common city streets could be navigated at speeds up to seventy miles an hour. The system worked on paper, on the computer, and in the unmanned test a week earlier. He would now experience the rush of automated travel first hand.

"Go for cross traffic," Rachel said. Miles from Dr. Forrester, two dozen cars went into motion, bound for Tenth Street, where they would cross paths with Forrester's car during this tricky phase of testing. He felt the car slow as it approached the test street, and saw the turn signal flash on the console.

"Last chance, old man." Dr. Forrester smiled, recognizing the voice of his life-long friend, Larry Decker. "Anything that happens from here on out, well, you can't sue yourself."

Forrester laughed. "I can't? You slimeball, what kind of release waiver did you trick me into signing?"

"Just looking out for my old friend," said Larry.

"Turning onto Tenth Street," Rachel interrupted. "Test phase two underway. Begin acceleration."

Before she even said it, the car accelerated to sixty miles an hour. He could make out the corner market by Wall Street in the darkness. The moment of truth was upon them.

"Wall Street in ten seconds," Rachel said.

The headlights of a car on Wall Street crept into Forrester's view. It was coming closer, closer. Forrester gripped the door handle out of reflex.

He relaxed a moment later as the car safely passed through the intersection. The headlights of the second car flashed briefly in the rear view mirror - another car part soon to be obsolete - and then faded into the darkness.

"Wall Street crossing successful," said Rachel.

Forrester closed his eyes, turning up the volume on the stereo. As he had so many times the last six months, he pictured himself in Sweden, accepting the Nobel Prize for such an amazing scientific achievement. He pictured himself in Washington DC, receiving a medal from the president, a medal he would graciously share with Rachel. He hardly noticed as the car passed safely through two more intersections at sixty miles an hour.

"Mulberry crossing successful," said Rachel.

Now Forrester spoke up. "Accelerate to seventy." Although local government had insisted on capping the community speed limit at sixty, the system tested fine at ninety in simulations. Forrester wanted to know everything his baby could do.

The car roared as it accelerated. "Accelerating to ninety," said Rachel. "Oak Street in one quarter of a mile."

Forrester found it hard to keep his eyes closed now. The world rushed by faster, and the lights from intersecting cars seemed to move faster. To be sure, Rachel accelerated the speed of the test cars in order to keep the timing of the test as close as possible.

The car whizzed past Oak Street.

"Elm Street in one quarter mile."

"Accelerate to eighty," said Forrester.

Rachel gave the order, and the test picked up even more speed. Rachel held her breath in Traffic Control. She glanced back at the attending dignitaries- the mayor, the governor, and others. Their eyes were glued to the giant control board, watching the satellite photos as her uncle's car passed safely by the fifth test car.

"Elm Street crossing successful!" Forrester could see the smile in her voice, and even heard a giggle. "Shall we go for it?"

Forrester smiled. "Let's do it, Rachel. Accelerate to ninety."

"Accelerate to ninety."

Now Decker spoke up again. "Eddie, you've made your point. You don't have to do this."

"No," said Forrester. "But what a shame to come so close and not see what this baby could really do."

Everyone was on edge now. Decker drummed a table nervously with his fingers. Having run twelve unmanned tests and hundreds of simulations, everyone knew it could work. It would work. Yet nerves were on edge as Decker approached Vincennes Street.

"Vincennes, Quarter mile, stand by."

Forrester forced himself to take a deep breath and sit back in the seat. He saw the headlights of the test car. He saw the intersection. He held his breath until the danger had passed, and breathed deeply as the car zoomed on. He could hear applause and cheers from Traffic Control.

"Vincennes crossing successful," Rachel said. "Everything's working perfectly."

"Well done everyone," said Decker. "Well done, Eddie." The attorney let his hands relax. He glanced at Rachel, who beamed with excitement. The system was finally ready for the public.

******

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is indeed a proud day." Larry Decker looked positively presidential at the podium, the stage around him bedecked in red, white, and blue. "For years, my colleagues and I worked tirelessly to make the streets safer. We stood by accident victims in time of need, people who were hurt by the old way of transportation. We fought for justice when the recklessness of others harmed the innocent. Today, our dream of an accident free world has come true."

The gathered masses applauded. On the front row of the audience, Larry caught the eye of the aforementioned colleagues: Darren "The Rhino" Butowski, Harry Bluckerman, Glen "The Viper" Pfeiffer, and Sal "V-Law" Vincenzo. Each applauded along with the gathered masses, even as they faced an uncertain future.

Decker waited for the cheers do diminish before resuming his speech. "I remember the day my good friend Dr. Forrester told me about his dream of a safe, computeriized transit system. He laid out his design, his budget, and then he asked me, "Larry, what will you do? On the day I end traffic accidents and put you out of work, what will you do?"

Decker smiled at Dr. Forrester, then went on. "I told him, I'll enjoy my early retirement."

Laughter joined the applause, with a considerable amount of laughter erupting from the front row.

"I know a lot of people are uncertain what this day means," Decker said. "What will all those accident lawyers do? Don't worry about my friends. They've all got other investments. What you should worry about is, who's going to sponsor your afternoon soaps when all our advertising dollars go away?"

More laughs and applause. Over the roar, Decker cried out, "Ladies and gentlemen, Dr. E. J. Forrester!"

Everyone rose to their feet as the old scientist, now the odds on favorite for the Nobel Prize three months down the road, strode to the podium. Forrester was not a polished public speaker like his lawyer friend, and kept his comments brief.

"This day is for Charlie. A dear brother." He looked at Rachel. "And a great father."

With that, Forrester hit the big, red button that activated the new transportation system. One press of a button activated a whole new era of transit for the modern world, as on-board computers took the wheel. Within five minutes, the entire system was moving briskly. By the time Dr. Forrester and his niece Rachel made it to mission control, the monitors showed all systems were a go, functioning as flawlessly as they had in hundreds of simulations. It was all going so well, the low-level techie in control bay three almost didn't see the red light begin flashing on his console.

"Dr. Forrester! We have a problem!"

The words were barely out when alarms sounded. The big board showed traffic pile ups in every major intersection in town. The quiet calm of the smooth running machine gave way to pandemonium.

"Multiple car pile ups, Vincennes and Tenth! Multiple passengers, multiple injuries!"

"Van on fire! Carpool van on fire at Wall Street and Sixth!"

"Police units cannot respond! All police units jammed up at the station."

Rachel grabbed a headset and dove right into the fray, while her uncle slumped into a chair. It couldn't be! Everything checked out perfectly. All the components, all the software running the system were brand new and flawless. And yet... His dream, his life's work was going up in flames, licking through twisted metal and screaming passengers. The lawsuits from this would destroy everything he had worked for.

Forrester wondered where Larry Decker had slipped off.

******

Decker was enjoying his second beer, in a basement pub two blocks away. Surrounded by his co-conspirators. Archrivals for years, competing for clients and commercial air time, this secret causus of accident and personal injury attorneys lifted their glasses to Decker, the man who betrayed his life long friend, to preserve their way of life.

"It's all you, Larry," said Glen the Viper. "You saved our butts."

Decker nodded as the clinked their glasses and drank. Their eyes stayed fixed on the television, watching the carnage and chaos Larry's tiny act of sabotage - a computer virus planted in the right computer - do its deadly work.

"Should we head top side and hand out business cards?" Sal asked.

"Nah," said the man called Rhino. "All this destruction, they gonna be callin' us."

"Here here," said Larry. "Here's to a whole new era in personal injury law!"

Copyright 2006 by John Cosper