Aug 24, 2026
13 min read
Mara and Jalen had been told to keep an eye on Eli.
They weren’t.
“I told you she’d do that,” Mara said.
“You said she wouldn’t even answer.”
“I said she wouldn’t answer you.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“It is exactly what I said.”
Eli sat across from them, small enough that his feet didn’t reach the floor. He had stopped trying to follow the argument several minutes ago.
Behind Mara, one of the Transpod’s displays changed to a live report.
The Sun filled the screen.
It was an ugly image, boiling orange and white, with a brilliant arc extending from one edge.
Eli watched.
“…observatories have now confirmed that this morning’s event exceeds all previously recorded solar activity. Several instruments have reached their measurement limits, and researchers say the actual magnitude of the event remains uncertain.”
Eli leaned forward.
The image changed to a woman standing in front of a diagram of the Earth surrounded by colored lines.
“This is not a scenario represented in existing infrastructure models. Satellite operators have begun emergency shutdown procedures, while regional authorities are preparing for potentially severe disruptions to communications, navigation and automated systems.”
Eli reached across and tugged Mara’s shirt.
She kept talking.
He tugged again.
“Eli, stop.”
He pointed at the screen.
“Look.”
“Not now.”
“But—”
“Go watch something.”
She turned back to Jalen.
Eli watched the report for another moment.
“Scientists are calling the event unprecedented. The first effects are expected to reach Earth within—”
He looked at Mara again.
She wasn’t listening.
Neither was Jalen.
Eli turned toward the window.
The empty plain raced past beneath them.
The Transpod was moving very fast, although Eli had no idea how fast. There was no reason for him to know. The distant ground simply blurred into long bands of brown and green while the horizon seemed almost motionless.
There was nothing out there.
No buildings.
No towers.
No people.
Just the transitway running straight across an enormous empty landscape.
Eli pressed his forehead against the glass.
Then he saw the Sun.
He pulled his head back.
For a moment he thought the window had changed it.
He leaned toward the glass again.
The Sun looked wrong.
There was something around it, a pale luminous ring that seemed too large, and the sky surrounding it had taken on a faint reddish cast.
Eli stared at it.
“Mara.”
She ignored him.
“Mara.”
“Eli.”
“The Sun looks weird.”
“Don’t stare at the Sun.”
“I’m not.”
“You literally just said you’re looking at it.”
Behind them the report continued.
“Multiple orbital systems are now reporting simultaneous faults. We are receiving preliminary reports of regional communication failures and—”
The screen went black.
Eli turned around.
Mara stopped talking.
“What happened?”
Jalen looked at the dead display.
“No idea.”
The lights inside the Transpod flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then everything returned to normal.
A pleasant tone sounded.
CENTRAL PROCESSOR ERROR.
The words appeared across the forward display.
Jalen stared at them.
“What does that mean?”
The Transpod began to slow.
Mara looked toward the windows.
The empty plain was no longer moving quite so quickly.
“Why are we stopping?”
The Transpod answered.
“Regional transit control is unavailable.”
“Retry,” Jalen said.
“Retrying.”
The three waited.
“Regional transit control remains unavailable.”
The Transpod continued slowing.
For the first time, Mara looked outside.
There was nothing in front of them.
Nothing behind them.
“What are you doing?”
“Entering safe state.”
The Transpod moved smoothly to the edge of the transitway.
It stopped.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then the pleasant tone sounded again.
AUTONOMOUS TRANSIT SUSPENDED.
PLEASE REMAIN INSIDE THE TRANSPOD.
SERVICE ASSISTANCE HAS BEEN REQUESTED.
Jalen looked at Mara.
Mara looked at Jalen.
Eli looked out the window.
Far above the empty plain, thin ribbons of green had begun to appear in the red sky.
For the first ten minutes, nobody was particularly worried.
Jalen tried the Transpod again.
“Resume transit.”
“Regional transit control is unavailable.”
“Retry.”
“Retrying.”
They waited.
“Regional transit control remains unavailable.”
Jalen looked at Mara.
“Very helpful.”
Mara was already tapping at her wrist.
“Call Dad.”
Nothing happened.
“Call Dad.”
“Communication services are unavailable.”
She frowned.
“Message Dad. Tell him we’ve stopped.”
“Message queued.”
“When will it send?”
“When communication services are restored.”
Jalen raised his wrist.
“What’s happening with the solar flare?”
His personal AI answered.
“I do not have access to current information.”
“You were just telling us about it.”
“External information services are unavailable.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
“The most recent available report described an extreme geomagnetic event. Current conditions are unavailable.”
Mara looked at her own display.
“Where are we?”
“Location services are unavailable.”
“Where were we before they went down?”
“Location history unavailable.”
“Pull up the last location.”
“Location history has been lost.”
Mara stopped tapping.
“Lost?”
“Local navigation data was corrupted during the system event.”
“Recover it.”
“Recovery unsuccessful.”
She looked at Jalen.
“Do you know where we are?”
“No.”
“You don’t remember where we were?”
“I wasn’t looking.”
Neither was she.
Eli was at the window.
The green light in the sky had spread. Long bands of it moved overhead now, mixed with red that seemed to reach all the way to the horizon.
“Look.”
Neither teenager did.
They waited.
The Transpod was comfortable. The temperature remained constant. The seats were soft. The lights worked. There was no immediate reason to do anything else.
Every few minutes Mara checked her messages.
QUEUED.
Jalen tried the network.
UNAVAILABLE.
Eventually he put his feet up and closed his eyes.
Half an hour passed.
Then another.
The Sun moved lower.
Eli had stopped watching the sky.
“I’m hungry.”
Mara opened the storage compartment and found two drinks and a package of crackers.
“That’s it?”
Jalen looked inside.
“We weren’t supposed to need anything.”
“I’m hungry.”
Mara handed the crackers to Eli.
“Don’t eat all of them.”
“When’s the service droid coming?”
“Soon.”
“How soon?”
“I don’t know, Eli.”
“Ask it.”
Mara sighed.
“Transpod. Estimated arrival of service unit.”
“Arrival estimate unavailable.”
Eli looked at her.
“Is it coming?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
Mara looked toward the ceiling.
“Has a service unit been dispatched?”
“Dispatch confirmation unavailable.”
Jalen opened his eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“Confirmation from regional service dispatch has not been received.”
“Did you send the request?”
“A service request has been initiated.”
“Did you send it?”
“Transmission is pending.”
Jalen sat up.
“Pending what?”
“Restoration of regional communications.”
Nobody spoke.
Mara looked at the display.
“So nobody received it.”
“Correct.”
“Does anyone know we’re here?”
“I am unable to confirm that information.”
Jalen looked through the window.
“Nobody knows we’re here.”
The Transpod did not answer.
Eli looked outside again.
The Sun was getting close to the horizon.
“Is it going to get dark?”
“Obviously,” Mara said.
“Then what?”
“We stay here.”
“For how long?”
“Until somebody comes.”
“What if nobody comes?”
“Somebody will.”
Jalen said nothing.
Another twenty minutes passed.
The Transpod’s lights dimmed automatically as evening approached.
Eli stood and went to the door.
“Open.”
“Please remain inside the Transpod until service assistance arrives.”
“I want to go outside.”
“Passengers are advised to remain inside.”
“Open the door.”
“External release is restricted during emergency safe state.”
Eli pushed at the door.
Nothing happened.
“Stop it,” Mara said.
“I have to pee.”
“You can wait.”
“No I can’t.”
Jalen got up.
“We’re going to have to open it.”
Mara looked at him.
“And breathe what?”
Jalen stared at her.
“Air.”
“Outside air?”
“What other kind is there?”
“Filtered air.”
Jalen looked through the window at the plain.
“It’s air, Mara.”
“Have you ever breathed it?”
He didn’t answer.
“Outside the system,” she said. “Have you ever actually breathed unfiltered air?”
“I’ve been outside.”
“In the city.”
“So?”
“The city filters.”
“Not all of it.”
“Yes, it does.”
Eli looked from one to the other.
“Externs breathe outside.”
Mara made a face.
“Externs are sick.”
“They’re not all sick,” Jalen said.
“How do you know?”
Jalen didn’t.
None of them had ever met an Extern.
They knew about them.
Everybody did.
People who lived beyond the managed regions. People who drank water that hadn’t been processed, grew food in dirt, kept animals, burned things, breathed whatever happened to be in the air.
There were stories about them.
Mostly stories about disease.
Eli pulled at the door again.
“I really have to pee.”
Mara looked toward the ceiling.
“Transpod, how long can a person safely breathe unfiltered exterior air?”
“Unable to determine.”
“Why?”
“Regional environmental data is unavailable.”
“Great.”
Jalen walked to the door.
“We can’t stay in here forever.”
“We can stay until the network comes back.”
“And when is that?”
Mara didn’t answer.
Jalen ran his hand along the edge of the door.
“There has to be a release.”
Eli crouched near the floor.
There was a small recessed panel with a symbol stamped into it.
“What’s this?”
Jalen looked down.
“I don’t know.”
Eli pulled at it.
Nothing happened.
He pulled harder.
The panel snapped open.
Inside was a red handle.
Mara stared at it.
“Don’t touch that.”
Eli pulled it.
Something heavy released inside the door.
The seal broke with a dull thump.
Mara stepped backward.
A thin stream of cold air entered the cabin.
For several seconds nobody moved.
Eli put his face near the opening.
“Eli!”
He breathed in.
Then again.
He looked at Mara.
“It smells weird.”
“What does it smell like?”
Eli breathed again.
“I don’t know.”
Jalen laughed.
Mara didn’t.
He pushed the door outward.
Wind rushed into the Transpod.
The air smelled of grass, earth and something faintly sweet that none of them could identify.
Jalen stood at the opening.
Then stepped outside.
Mara watched him.
“Well?”
He took a breath.
“I’m not dead.”
“Yet.”
Eli squeezed past her and jumped down.
“Eli!”
He ran several steps into the grass and stopped.
Mara had no choice but to follow.
The silence surprised them.
No Transpods passed.
There were no aircraft overhead.
No delivery machines.
No service droids.
No distant sound of traffic.
Only wind moving through the grass.
The road ran straight across an immense plain and disappeared in both directions.
Above them, green and red light moved across the sky.
Eli walked a few steps farther.
Mara grabbed his arm.
“Don’t go anywhere.”
“I’m not.”
He was looking toward the horizon.
“What?”
Eli pointed.
Far away, barely visible against the darkening sky, a thin gray line rose vertically and then drifted with the wind.
Jalen squinted.
“What is that?”
Mara stared at it.
Eli answered.
“Smoke.”
Jalen looked back at the Transpod.
Its interior lights glowed warmly through the open door.
“Please remain with the vehicle,” it said.
They looked toward the smoke.
“Service assistance has been requested.”
Mara looked at the setting Sun.
Then at the empty road.
Then back toward the distant smoke.
“Nobody’s coming,” she said.
They walked toward the smoke.
It was farther than it had looked.
The road disappeared behind them as they crossed the plain, and before long even the Transpod was difficult to see.
Eli stayed between Mara and Jalen.
The light was fading quickly now. Green bands moved silently overhead, bright enough to cast a faint color over the grass.
Then something moved ahead of them.
Eli stopped.
“What was that?”
Jalen had seen it too.
Something large came through the grass.
Fast.
A dark animal burst onto the path and ran toward them.
Mara grabbed Eli and pulled him behind her.
“What is that?”
The animal stopped twenty feet away.
It stared at them.
Then it barked.
All three jumped.
It barked again and came closer.
“Get away!” Jalen shouted.
The animal only became louder.
Mara backed away, dragging Eli with her.
“Don’t let it touch you.”
“What do we do?”
Jalen raised his wrist automatically.
“AI. What do I—”
Nothing.
The dog bounded toward them.
Mara screamed.
“Henry!”
The animal stopped.
Its ears lifted.
“Henry. Here.”
It turned and ran back through the grass.
The three children stood perfectly still.
A man appeared behind it.
He moved slowly.
Very slowly.
He was old, older than anyone Eli saw outside of screens. His back was bent sharply forward and one hand rested on a wooden cane. The dog walked beside him.
Mara pulled Eli farther behind her.
“Don’t get close,” she whispered.
The old man stopped several paces away.
He looked at the three of them.
Then at the sky.
Then back at them.
“You lost?”
“No,” Mara said.
Jalen looked at her.
The old man waited.
Eli leaned around Mara.
“Our Transpod died.”
The old man looked at him.
“Died?”
“It stopped.”
“That’s not dead.”
Eli considered this.
“It won’t go anymore.”
The old man nodded toward the sky.
“Not surprised.”
Jalen looked at the dog.
“Can you keep that thing away from us?”
The old man looked down at Henry.
“He’s away from you.”
The dog was sitting beside his cane.
Mara whispered, “He’s an Extern.”
The old man heard her.
“That’s what they call us.”
Eli stared at him.
He had never seen an Extern before.
The man certainly looked sick.
His body was bent. His skin was rough and deeply lined. His clothes were stained in places, and there was dirt on his hands.
Mara was still holding Eli’s arm.
The old man noticed.
“You can let go of him.”
“I’m fine.”
“I was talking to her.”
Eli pulled his arm free.
“Where’s your pod?” the old man asked.
“Back there,” Jalen said.
“Where?”
Jalen pointed across the plain.
The old man looked.
Nothing was visible now but grass and fading light.
“How far?”
“I don’t know.”
“What road?”
Nobody answered.
“Which direction were you traveling?”
Jalen looked at Mara.
Mara looked back at him.
Eli pointed.
“That way.”
The old man looked at him.
“You sure?”
Eli nodded.
“I watched.”
The old man smiled slightly.
“Good.”
He turned and started toward the small structure behind him.
Henry followed.
“Where are you going?” Mara asked.
“Getting my tools.”
They followed him to the encampment.
There wasn’t much there.
A small house. A garden. Several panels angled toward the sky. Barrels. Pieces of machinery Eli didn’t recognize. Nothing was smooth or hidden. Pipes were visible. Wires were visible. Things had handles.
The old man bent beside the doorway and picked up a battered metal box.
Eli moved closer.
The lid was open.
Inside were objects of different shapes and sizes, all made to fit a human hand.
Eli pointed.
“What are these?”
The old man looked down.
“Tools.”
“For what?”
“Fixing things.”
Eli pointed at a wrench.
“What does that one do?”
“Turns things.”
Eli picked it up.
It was heavier than he expected.
“You turn them?”
“Usually.”
“By hand?”
The old man looked at him.
“That’s generally why there’s a handle.”
Eli turned the wrench over in his hands.
“What fixes the tools?”
The old man paused.
Then he took the wrench from Eli and put it back in the box.
“We do.”
He closed the lid.
“Come on. Let’s find your car.”
Eli frowned.
“Our what?”
But the old man was already walking.
The old man walked slowly.
Eli stayed beside him.
Mara and Jalen followed several steps behind.
Henry moved ahead, disappearing into the grass and returning every few minutes as if checking that the rest of them were still coming.
Eli kept looking at the old man.
His back curved forward strangely. His skin was loose and deeply lined, and each step seemed to require a small negotiation between his legs and the cane.
“Does that help you walk?”
The old man looked at the cane.
“It does.”
“Why don’t you get fixed?”
The old man looked at him.
“The cane?”
“No. You.”
“Eli,” Mara said sharply.
The old man laughed.
“Nothing’s broken.”
“But you look sick.”
“I’m not sick.”
Eli studied his face.
“Then why do you look like that?”
“I’m old.”
Eli waited.
“How old?”
“Eighty-seven.”
Eli frowned.
“My grandmother is ninety-six.”
“Good for her.”
“She doesn’t look like you.”
“No. I expect she wouldn’t.”
“Why do you?”
The old man continued walking.
“I got old.”
Eli looked genuinely confused.
“But you’re only eighty-seven.”
The old man glanced at him.
For a moment he seemed about to explain something.
Then he smiled.
“That’s old enough.”
Mara caught up with them.
“You don’t take treatments?”
“No.”
“None?”
“None.”
Mara slowed.
She looked at Jalen.
He had heard it too.
Eli continued walking beside the old man.
“Why?”
“Never wanted them.”
“Why?”
The old man tapped his cane against the ground.
“I like knowing which parts are still mine.”
Eli didn’t understand the answer, but he remembered it.
Eventually the Transpod appeared ahead of them, a small dark shape beside the road.
“That’s it,” Eli said.
The old man nodded.
When they reached it, the door was still open and the interior lights still glowed warmly against the gathering darkness.
The Transpod spoke as they approached.
“Passengers are advised to remain with the vehicle. Service assistance has been requested.”
The old man put his toolbox on the ground.
Mara said, “It keeps saying that.”
“Has anybody answered it?”
“No.”
“Then it hasn’t requested anything.”
“It says it has.”
“It says what it was designed to say.”
He walked around the Transpod.
“Unauthorized personnel should remain clear of vehicle service areas.”
The old man stopped near the rear of the vehicle.
He ran his fingers along the smooth body.
Eli followed him.
“What are you looking for?”
“A hatch.”
“There isn’t one.”
“There is.”
He pressed against the body in several places.
Nothing happened.
Then he took a thin metal tool from the box and pushed it into a seam so narrow Eli hadn’t noticed it.
A section of the Transpod released with a click.
Eli stepped closer.
Behind it were cables, connectors and mechanical assemblies.
Mara stepped back.
“You’re breaking it.”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
The old man looked at her.
“Because I know what I’m doing.”
He leaned his cane against the Transpod and slowly lowered himself to one knee.
For several minutes he worked without speaking.
Eli watched his hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking the transit controller out of the loop.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s waiting for somebody who isn’t coming.”
The Transpod spoke.
“Manual service intervention detected.”
“That’s right.”
“Authorized service credentials required.”
“Don’t have any.”
“Please discontinue service intervention.”
“No.”
Jalen smiled.
The old man reached farther into the compartment.
There was a click.
Everything inside the Transpod went dark.
Mara jumped.
“What did you do?”
“Wait.”
A few seconds passed.
The interior lights returned.
The forward display illuminated.
CENTRAL PROCESSOR ERROR 7714.
The message disappeared.
Another replaced it.
MANUAL SERVICE MODE.
Jalen stared at the words.
“I’ve never seen that.”
“You’re not supposed to.”
The old man closed the service hatch and walked to the front of the Transpod.
He climbed inside.
The three followed.
He reached beneath the forward console and found another release.
He pulled it.
Something moved inside the wall.
A section of the console folded outward.
A circular control emerged from it.
Two pedals descended toward the floor.
Eli stared at them.
“What are those?”
“Controls.”
“For what?”
The old man sat down.
He placed both hands on the wheel.
“For this.”
Jalen leaned forward.
“You control the Transpod?”
“Used to.”
The old man pressed one of the pedals.
The Transpod moved.
All three children grabbed something.
Eli’s eyes widened.
“You’re making it go.”
The old man turned the wheel and guided the Transpod slowly onto the empty road.
“We used to call this driving.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what we called it.”
“What did you call Transpods?”
The old man looked down the road.
“Cars.”
Eli tried the unfamiliar word.
“Cars.”
The old man nodded.
“Before they knew where to go by themselves.”
END
This is the danger we should be thinking about as artificial intelligence becomes capable of doing more of our work.
Human expertise does not simply appear. It is built through years of practice: doing the work, making mistakes, solving unfamiliar problems, learning from people who already possess the knowledge, and eventually developing judgment that exists inside the person—not merely inside the system they use.
If AI removes too much of that process, we may gain extraordinary capability today while quietly losing the people capable of understanding, validating and repairing those systems tomorrow.
This problem is explored in the research paper “The Tragedy of the Cognitive Commons,” which distinguishes between AI-assisted capability and the internalized human mastery necessary to independently judge whether an AI system is actually correct.
Read The Tragedy of the Cognitive Commons
The lesson is not that we should reject AI.
It is that as we build increasingly intelligent systems, we must deliberately preserve the human pathways that create experts. We need apprentices, practice, independent problem solving, mentorship and opportunities to understand how things actually work.
AI should extend human capability—not eliminate the process by which human capability is created.
Otherwise, one day we may discover that we have become little more than passengers:
Riders inside an extraordinary system that none of us understands well enough to repair.