A day in the life, 2047
The date is 2047. Self-driving cars have revolutionised our lives. Join us on a trip into the future and see how autonomous driving could make life better.
“Good morning, Maja.”
“Good morning, House.”
“Maja, you have an appointment in Denmark at 9am.”
“Ah, yes. House, get me coffee and an auto outside in 15 minutes, please.”
I hear House firing up the espresso maker in the kitchen. Ten minutes later I’m dressed and sipping a cup of fresh coffee. I open my coat closet.
“It’s cold outside, Maja. 3°C. Wrap up warm.”
I step outside my apartment. It’s a crisp, sunny February morning. I guess if someone from 30 years ago were to look at this suburban Malmö street they’d find it pretty amazing. The pavements either side are six metres wide and the road is about five. People are the priority.
I’m 28 – old enough to remember the rush-hour rumble of combustion engines when I was a girl. And the smell. All I hear today is the little twittering noises the autos make when driving in built-up areas, and the shouts of the local kids playing some pre-school hockey in the street. Their parents are OK with this because almost the only cars that come down here are pods and autos – autonomous drivers – which makes this street very safe. I wave at Lucas, my neighbour, who’s out polishing his classic V90 from 2017.
He’s got one of the older houses with a garage, which is lucky because he loves that car. Lucas loves driving, but I prefer being driven. It means I can use my time in the car as I choose.
My car is outside now, with a hologram of my name scrolling across the window. Because I’m going more than 20km, House has ordered one of the larger, long-range Volvo autos. It looks very different to the first Volvo, which was made 120 years ago, but it shares the same aim – to give people more freedom. If it were a hop to my office in central Malmö, I’d take a pod – one of the smaller electric vehicles that bustle round our streets like rickshaws and sometimes conjoin to form “caterpillars” for big events like concerts or football matches.
The car recognises my phone. Its door opens for me and I get in.
“Good morning, Maja.” says the car. “Your journey to Louisiana Museum, Humlebæk, Denmark, is 92.8 kilometres. 100 crowns will be charged to your account. Journey time will be 39 minutes.”
We glide off, and soon pass one of the out-of-town autoparks, a 200m two-storey hangar where the autos go when demand is low, to recharge and repair. “Where they go to sleep,” as my little niece puts it. We’ve put the old city car park spaces to some imaginative uses. The one outside my local IKEA has become a taiga – a forest with plants and trees from the Arctic Circle. I’ve actually got lost in there a few times. It’s amazing how the city has changed over the years. Nowadays developments are built with people, not cars, in mind.
“Maja, you have time to watch the latest Wallpaper webcast. Would you like it to start now?” says the car.
“No thanks, car. I need to work.” As we glide through the city and on to the Øresund Bridge I scan the news quickly on the head-up display. Then I put on my VR glasses and watch a gallery walkthrough, just to make sure I’m ready for my presentation, and make a few extra notes on my tablet.
"Now, car crashes are so rare that they make the news. Most vehicles are autonomously driven, most of the time. There are far fewer human drivers to get tired or distracted, fail to see things, or simply make a bad decision."
I almost wish I had more time in the auto. You can get so much done in the car. This journey used to take my dad up to two hours in rush hour, more if there was a crash. And all he could do was sit there. Now, car crashes are so rare that they make the news. Most vehicles are autonomously driven, most of the time. There are far fewer human drivers to get tired or distracted, fail to see things, or simply make a bad decision.
Now, traffic just keeps moving. On the bridge, my auto joins a road train with about ten other vehicles all doing 200km/h, 50cm apart. Because each vehicle is driving autonomously and is connected via the cloud it’s an incredibly safe and efficient way to travel. Soon we’ve threaded effortlessly through Copenhagen. As we’re early, I change the route and request the 152 Danish coastal road instead of the quicker E42. I watch the sun glinting on the Øresund.
The auto deposits me outside the door of the art museum.
“Want me to wait?” It asks.
“No thanks, I might have lunch here afterwards and take a wander.”
“OK Maja. See you again soon. And good luck with the presentation.”
The technology and mobility solutions presented in this story are fictional, and not available for any current Volvo Cars production model.
Cars that are capable of driving themselves, communicating with each other and that won’t crash? This is the future of personal transport – and it begins here.
Connectivity In Berlin
After travelling the world for 12 years, Cologne-born entrepreneur Gundula Cöllen decided it was time to return to Germany and reconnect with her homeland. And when it came to choosing a city in which to settle down in and start up a new business, she only had one place in mind – Berlin.
Our window to the world
Throughout history, the human eye has meant different things to different cultures. In ancient Egypt it was worshipped as a powerful symbol of good health and protection, during the Renaissance it represented vision and clarity, whereas the eye that graces today’s American dollar bill is designed to depict guidance and reassurance. But what about for those of us who worship at the altar of the automobile? What do our eyes mean to our enjoyment of our cars and can they really hold the key to a better life on the road?