Two words for you: flying taxis. That's right. In the not-so-distant future, you'll open your ride-hailing app and, in addition to ground options like car, SUV, scooter or bicycle, you'll see on-demand air flight.
At least that's according to the optimists at South by Southwest, the annual tech-music-film convention in Austin, Texas.
When the flying taxi comes, most of us will be passengers. We might hail it on our smartphones and head to the rooftop, where a ride is waiting at the helipad. It might look like a minivan with wings and four seats; or more like a gigantic drone.
Either way, it won't fly itself anytime soon, experts say. One seat will be reserved for the driver-pilot.
"If air taxis are going be what everybody wants them to be — thousands at a city, for example — we won't be able to find enough conventional pilots," said Carey Cannon, chief engineer of technology and innovation at Bell.
In a crowded pavilion at South By Southwest, Cannon has set up a virtual reality simulation of what it feels like to drive one of these small flying vehicles of the future. I decide to try it out.
He puts a headset on me and something like a joystick in my hand. I slip into a gamer chair. Only, I'm more than a gamer. I'm a trainer for Bell's computer software. I turn a dial for my VR flying taxi to lift off into the Las Vegas skyline. Only, I turn it too fast and it's a dizzying takeoff.
"Don't overreact," Cannon tells me as I push pedals and the joystick as aggressively as possible. "Smooth, small movements," he says, advising me to do the exact opposite of what I'm doing. How I and others drive will create training data for the artificial intelligence that'll take over much of the job.
The dream of flying cars is as at least as old as the automobile itself. Bell, which makes attack helicopters for the U.S. Navy, is working on this new project with another high-profile partner, Uber. The prototype, the Bell Nexus, was unveiled earlier this year. Boeing and Airbus also have prototypes of these flying cars in the works.
Uber has become the face of the aerial mobility movement as it has the most public campaign touting its work so far. Elon Musk says he'll get us to Mars. Uber says it'll get a millennial from San Francisco to San Jose in 15 minutes flat (instead of the two-hour slog in morning traffic). And its timeline for this flying taxi that does not yet exist is 2023.
The company laid out the challenges and opportunities of the flying taxi in a 2016 report, "Fast-Forwarding to a Future of On-Demand Urban Air Transportation." In the highly cited white paper, Uber says: "Just as skyscrapers allowed cities to use limited land more efficiently, urban air transportation will use three-dimensional airspace to alleviate transportation congestion on the ground."
At a panel I moderated at SXSW, subtly titled "Death to Roadways," I asked the audience if they believed Uber's goal of flying taxis in four years. Half the room raised their hands. And when asked if they thought the taxi would be an option within a decade, nearly all hands went up.
NASA is another Uber partner. Jaiwon Shin, NASA's associate administrator for the Aeronautics Research Mission Directorate, was on the panel. While he thinks Uber is being a little bullish — he'd put the timeline further out, to the mid-2020s — Shin says it's close.
"Convergence of many different technologies are maturing to the level that now aviation can benefit to put these things together," he said.
The batteries that power electric cars can evolve further, to power flight. Companies can stockpile and pool data, and build artificial intelligence to take over air traffic control, managing the thousands of drones and taxis in the air.
And Uber, his partner, is really well-connected. While fighting the legacy taxi industry, Uber made so many government and lobbyist contacts, that that Rolodex can help grease the wheels — or wings.
To move quickly, Shin says, technologists and policymakers will need to coordinate. "If one segment is lagging behind, this is not going to happen," he said.
China may beat out America, Shin says, because China has a "higher tolerance level for risk" in the development of new technologies. That could give China a "competitive advantage," according to McKinsey consultant Shivika Sahdev, who advises governments.
When a company wants permission to fly its imperfect prototypes over densely populated mega-cities, she says, "that's where the vehicle operators will go, that's where the system providers will go to, to be able to actually test it in the real world."
When we build the whizbang future, it's good practice to pause and consider the downsides. Right now in major cities, people in bumper-to-bumper traffic or riding the subway have to see each other (at least for a tiny bit). With flying cars, the haves can escape to the air and leave the have-nots forgotten in their potholes. That's the worry Cheryl Garabet expressed when she stepped to the microphone at the panel discussion.
"I think of ... all of us with money flying around, you know, looking down at the poor homeless, who have no options in that regard," she said. "How can cities prepare so that there's not this awful dystopian future for all of us with flying vehicles?"
It was a strong dose of skepticism to balance the techno-optimism.
While no flying taxi exists yet, Uber has dared to estimate the "near-term" cost of that San Francisco to San Jose trip: $43.
LULU GARCIA-NAVARRO, HOST:
Fifty dead - that is the death toll of the attack on two mosques in the New Zealand city of Christchurch. More than 20 others remain in the hospital. The victims were fathers and mothers and children and friends, many looking for a new life in New Zealand. Now a community is grieving. The alleged shooter is a 28-year-old Australian man who livestreamed his attack on Facebook. He appeared in court on Friday and flashed a white power sign. NPR's Rob Schmitz is in Christchurch. And he brings us this profile of a city picking up the pieces.
ROB SCHMITZ, BYLINE: It's Sunday morning breakfast at the Rasol-O-Allah Islamic Center, the only mosque in Christchurch that wasn't attacked on Friday. Five men sit on the floor surrounding a carpet filled with plates of naan, potatoes and cups of black tea. They're from all over the world - Afghanistan, Pakistan, Fiji. And they all became citizens of New Zealand for the same reason. Here, they believed, they could practice their faith in peace. That belief has now been shaken.
AJAD ALI: They all are, of course, crying. And they are really hurt.
SCHMITZ: Imam Ajad Ali (ph) just flew in from Auckland. Several of his friends were among the 50 people who were killed. He's come to console their families.
ALI: And many of them have seen the videos of the killer, who actually recorded everything and sent to the social media. And that's affecting them a lot as well.
SCHMITZ: It's affecting everyone in Christchurch, population 400,000, dubbed the garden city of New Zealand. In front of the botanical gardens, residents have left thousands of flowers, candles and letters pledging support for their Muslim neighbors. Alan Truman (ph) brought flowers from his own garden. He says the last tragedy here was the 2011 earthquake that killed nearly 200 people. But this feels worse.
ALAN TRUMAN: The earthquakes were one thing. This is just - this is human. This is hatred. We're a proud city. We're resilient. But this has just rocked us to our knees.
SCHMITZ: Sheikh Faraz (ph) is dealing with the pain through constant work. He's making airport runs, picking up Muslims who arrive every hour from throughout New Zealand. It was at the mosque Faraz attended where most of the people were killed, many his friends. He hasn't slept in two days. He says he and his wife don't know how to process the pain.
SHEIKH FARAZ: We were crying and crying. And we can't cry anymore. We just, like - and we can't sleep either. It just - and then the kids asking, what's going on, dad? And I said, oh, there's - you know, something's gone wrong not right. And we're trying to make it right, but it's - and we don't want to let them know what's happened. It's, like, I don't know how we do talk to them about it, you know?
SCHMITZ: Faraz went grocery shopping yesterday and began to panic. He kept thinking someone is going to shoot up the market. He says he's never felt this way before, nor has Methon Noor (ph), an immigrant from Bangladesh.
METHON NOOR: Now it's, like, not - feel not safe here because we thinking somewhere, somebody come in, can shoot again.
SCHMITZ: Noor says there aren't many Bangladeshis here, so his friends were like family. On Friday, five of them were murdered. A sixth, his best friend Gakira (ph), is still missing, but he thinks he's dead, too.
NOOR: Last night, we was in hospital. They was told us this morning we'd get the final information finally. But it's still not happening this. We are still waiting here.
UNIDENTIFIED PERSON: One person does not represent us all.
SCHMITZ: Inside the crisis center for families of the victims, a Christian group of Maori, New Zealand's indigenous people, have arrived. They show support through dance.
UNIDENTIFIED GROUP: (Chanting in foreign language).
SCHMITZ: It's a traditional Haka dance and an emotional one. Several of the Maori men performing it do so through tears, prompting others to cry, too.
UNIDENTIFIED GROUP: (Chanting in foreign language).
SCHMITZ: There are hundreds of family members here and dozens of survivors. A man in his 50s told me when the shooting started, bodies piled up on top of him, and he's not sure how he wasn't hit with a bullet. Another man, Adan (ph) from Somalia, told me after his young son was shot and the gunman had fled, he picked up his boy and cradled him in his arms. As the boy lay dying, Adan says he kept whispering into his son's ear, God is sufficient. He is my protector. God is sufficient. He is my protector.
Rob Schmitz, NPR News, Christchurch.
(SOUNDBITE OF CUONG VU 4-TET'S "ALL THE THINGS YOU ARE") Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.