One of the least understood aspects of self-driving cars is the extent and capacity to which they rely on remote assistance operators (RAOs).

When a self-driving car finds itself confused in an uncertain or tricky situation (like when one rolled into an active shootout), there are typically two safety valves. The first is a manual override, where someone like a first responder might jump into the front seat and take control of the steering wheel. And the second is assistance from a remote operator.

If the car gets confused, a human can tell it, "Hey, you, follow this path." But how often is remote assistance being called upon? And who is actually responding on the other end? Apparently, the answer is, "I don't know."

According to a recent report from Senator Ed Markey, every major AV company refuses to disclose how often they rely on an RAO. And in the case of Waymo, they rely on overseas operators in places like the Philippines.

This has led to new proposed legislation that would, among other things, limit the number of vehicles that a single RAO can oversee, mandate that the RAO be located in the US, and require the humans to hold a local driver's license. You know, so they're sure to know the rules of the road.

There's a lot to figure out, and it seems a bit messy. But that's what it takes. As one would expect, this is par for the course when you're trying to rewrite urban mobility.

Cover photo by Leo_Visions

I recently came across this for-sale listing from Fantastic Frank for a 3-room apartment in Berlin's new Am Tacheles district. Naturally, I thought to myself, "Hey, this is a beautiful apartment — now let me go all the way back to the beginning of the 20th century and better understand the history of the development site."

Am Tacheles has been called the most controversial real estate project in Berlin's modern history. Previously developed in 1908 as a high-end shopping arcade intended to rival the great galleries of Paris, the Friedrichstraßenpassage, as it was known, was an ambitious undertaking located in the city's historic Jewish quarter.

But only about six months after opening, the project went bankrupt. The existing building then went on to live numerous lives, ranging from an AEG showroom to a building used to house French war prisoners, before ultimately being co-opted by artists in 1990 as a way to save it from demolition.

One of the least understood aspects of self-driving cars is the extent and capacity to which they rely on remote assistance operators (RAOs).

When a self-driving car finds itself confused in an uncertain or tricky situation (like when one rolled into an active shootout), there are typically two safety valves. The first is a manual override, where someone like a first responder might jump into the front seat and take control of the steering wheel. And the second is assistance from a remote operator.

If the car gets confused, a human can tell it, "Hey, you, follow this path." But how often is remote assistance being called upon? And who is actually responding on the other end? Apparently, the answer is, "I don't know."

According to a recent report from Senator Ed Markey, every major AV company refuses to disclose how often they rely on an RAO. And in the case of Waymo, they rely on overseas operators in places like the Philippines.

This has led to new proposed legislation that would, among other things, limit the number of vehicles that a single RAO can oversee, mandate that the RAO be located in the US, and require the humans to hold a local driver's license. You know, so they're sure to know the rules of the road.

There's a lot to figure out, and it seems a bit messy. But that's what it takes. As one would expect, this is par for the course when you're trying to rewrite urban mobility.

Cover photo by Leo_Visions

I recently came across this for-sale listing from Fantastic Frank for a 3-room apartment in Berlin's new Am Tacheles district. Naturally, I thought to myself, "Hey, this is a beautiful apartment — now let me go all the way back to the beginning of the 20th century and better understand the history of the development site."

Am Tacheles has been called the most controversial real estate project in Berlin's modern history. Previously developed in 1908 as a high-end shopping arcade intended to rival the great galleries of Paris, the Friedrichstraßenpassage, as it was known, was an ambitious undertaking located in the city's historic Jewish quarter.

But only about six months after opening, the project went bankrupt. The existing building then went on to live numerous lives, ranging from an AEG showroom to a building used to house French war prisoners, before ultimately being co-opted by artists in 1990 as a way to save it from demolition.