The screech of tires, the panicked cry of 'Donkey!', and the slow-motion arc of a cart flipping through the air! That's the memory that comes to mind whenever I think of driving in Cairo Egypt. My first car accident, a baptism by fire in the controlled chaos of Egyptian roads, wasn't caused by a speeding taxi or a reckless motorbike. It was a donkey, and its cart, materializing out of my blind spot like a mirage. In the frantic search for merging traffic, my peripheral vision failed me, and my foot, guided by adrenaline, found the gas pedal instead of the brake.

The cart flipped, and I watched, horrified, as the donkey joined it in a brief, gravity-defying dance. The donkey, thankfully, survived its aerial adventure. Though its loud, indignant bray still echoes in my mind. How, I still wonder, does a donkey end up on a freeway? And more importantly, how could a simple blind spot conceal an entire cart and its occupant? This driving mishap shows the limitations of human perception.

In Cairo's orchestrated madness, where the unexpected is the norm, I realized how much we rely on our senses, and how easily they can betray us. It was a moment where the 'God View' of a self-driving car, that all-seeing, all-knowing awareness, would have transformed a near-catastrophe into a non-event. It would have armed us with the tools to see what I can't, to anticipate the unexpected, and to navigate the unpredictable symphony of the road. Whether it's on a Cairo freeway or a quiet suburban street.

In theory, AI should drive better than humans. But the world is to complex and chaotic. We've seen a cone placed in front of a self driving car to completely disengage it. What we need is not the self-driving car. Instead, we need their tools to augment our awareness. Imagine strapping the superpowers of a Tesla Autopilot or Waymo into your rusty sedan.

Cairo: Parking Angels

Cairo's streets are less "road" and more "organized anarchy." Lanes? Optional. Traffic lights? Mild suggestions. Honking? The national language. A symphony of honks, ranging from impatient staccato bursts to drawn-out, almost mournful bellows. The thick, dusty air hangs heavy, layered with the scent of exhaust and street food. Motorbikes weave through impossibly tight spaces, a blur of motion in a kaleidoscope of faded paint on decades-old cars.

Driving there feels like being part of a school of fish. No rigid rules, just flow. It's a ballet of intuition, where drivers anticipate each other's moves with a near-telepathic connection.

When a traffic light is a mere suggestion, a green light is a signal to scan the horizon, wait for a collective nod, and then, and only then, you date to inch forward. For the red light, you turn your head to the traffic officer and see if he waves you forward. "Go!" and you follow his order even if the light remains red.

There is no driving without parking. When you reach an empty space on the side of the roads, the moment you hesitate, a stranger materializes. "Erga! Erga!" he shows. The words me "Back up! Back up!". He guides you into the spot, then vanishes, leaving you wondering if it was a parking fairy. It's a system of on-demand assistance, a testament of to the city's unique social fabric.

My mother never learned to parallel park in Egypt. She didn't need to. Cairo's hive mind sent those helpers on demand. This "school of fish" dynamic, this unspoken communication, highlights the human element in driving.

Why We Need AI’s Toolkit

Not every city can turn into Cairo. I've driven for decades in the US, and not once a parking assistant materialized to help me. So if AI is to be part of every aspect of our lives, and can improve the driving experience, what if we stole self-driving cars gadgets?

1. 360° “God View” Camera

Imagine seeing everything around your car, no blind spots, no guessing if that scooter is in your mirror. In Cairo, this would've saved me from merging into a donkey cart. This system blends data from cameras, radar, and lidar to map your surroundings in real time. It spots scooters, pedestrians, and yes, donkey carts, before your eyes even register them. This data is then processed and rendered, giving the driver an augmented view that extends far beyond the limitations of human vision.

2. Hazard Alerts for Humans

When the screen flashes and beeps "pedestrian detected, closing rapidly." My foot instinctively eases off the gas pedal. AI, the silent guardian, preventing a near miss. These systems use predictive algorithms to anticipate potential dangers before they become apparent to the driver. By analyzing sensor data, they can identify patterns and predict the behavior of other vehicles, pedestrians, and obstacles. These predictions are then communicated to the driver through intuitive alerts, giving them valuable extra seconds to react.

3. AI Parking Fairy

No need to rely on mystical strangers. An AI overlay highlights the perfect parking angle and barks "Erga!" through your speakers. OK, maybe not. But parking assistance, using a combination of sensors and spatial mapping to identify available parking spaces and guide the driver through the optimal maneuver. Real-time feedback, both visual and auditory, would provide precise instructions, effectively digitizing the "Erga!" guidance of Cairo's parking angels.

AI Should Augment Humans, Not Replace Us

Self-driving cars are great when the rules are defined, terrible at chaos. But humans? We thrive in Cairo's ballet of honks and hand signals. We just need better tools.

When the honk detection analyzes the acoustic properties of our surrounding, they can detect the incoming road rage before we reach the scene. In Cairo, honks are a language. A friendly 'beep-beep' means 'I exist!' A prolonged ‘BEEEEEEP’ is the sound a driver makes before exiting his car for a physical fight.

Imagine driving on a road where lanes are conceptual. Using a lane assisting tool, we could have a high-resolution mapping and real-time sensor data to create a virtual, navigable path, even on roads where lane markings are faded, obscured, or non-existent. Because in some places, 'lane' is less a painted line, and more a philosophical debate.

We may even have a thriving plugin ecosystem in our cars. Someone in Cairo could create a Traffic officer translator. The tool could detect "He’s waving you, not the bus!" This feature could use image recognition and natural language processing to interpret the gestures and signals of traffic officers, providing drivers with clear, concise instructions, even in the most chaotic of intersections.

These tools wouldn't just be convenient; they'd be essential for navigating the complexities of modern driving, enhancing safety and reducing stress.

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AI doesn't need to steal the wheel. Give us its X-ray vision, its spider-sense for potholes, and its encyclopedic knowledge of "is that a parking spot or a mirage?" Let humans handle the artistry, the intuition, the negotiation, the unspoken rules of places where the GPS fails. We need a symbiotic relationship, where technology amplifies our abilities and compensates for our weaknesses, such as fatigue, distraction, and the inherent limitations of human perception. This collaboration would not only make driving safer but also more intuitive and enjoyable.

Let's demand these tools, and make driving safer and more intuitive for everyone.

I wished for a computer that knew everything about me so that it can act as a proxy of myself. It would anticipate my needs, and make my life easier.

Now I've got a computer that knows everything about me. But it won't stop telling everyone what I'm doing.

When applying for a job, I'm tempted to write 26 years of experience in the tech field. The reality is I started even earlier, but 26 years ago is when I got my first paycheck.

I first encountered computers in 1992 when I was 5 years old. I became fascinated by them and would lurk in my father's office after school, waiting for him to finish his work so I could have a turn. I can't imagine how or why my father trusted a small child with such an expensive machine, but I am forever grateful.

Several times, I bricked the computer. The only solution was to reinstall Windows 3.11 from scratch. My father's files were carefully backed up on floppy disks. Every time I destroyed the computer, I learned something new. I learned about installing software, the importance of .ini files, making backups, MS Word and Excel, the hard drive, the optical drive, and everything in between.

A few years later, as computers were becoming even more popular, my father's office decided to install their own. They skipped hiring a technician and instead called on the one person they knew who could handle it—me.

It wasn't an official summons. I was playing outside with my friends, covered in dust and wearing flip-flops. "Hey kid, come here."

That was it. I installed the computers in every office, receiving no pay but plenty of thanks. My father was proud. He knew something they didn't: just because you have a computer doesn't mean you know how to use it.

It didn't take long for the Embassy to call my parents looking for me. On one of those calls, my mother joked about getting me a suit and tie so I could go to work, saying she would use my first paycheck to buy it. It wasn't a joke, of course—they had to pay me for my service. And that's how I got my first paycheck.

That was 26 years ago. If anything, I'm grateful. I'm grateful to my father, who put so much faith in me, and to my mother, who was the invisible hand negotiating on my behalf. Now, I have to turn around and put this faith in my children.

I was close enough to smell the grass. The lights turned the evening into day. Thousands of fans were screaming in unison, drumming my ears into a brown hiss. The players made their way to the field, and I was looking for one person. Just one person. When he entered the stadium, even the opposing fans screamed his name: Gabriel Batistuta.

In 2002, the Embassy of Burundi in Cairo found itself with five spare tickets to the upcoming game of AS Roma vs Al-Ahly. My friends and I salivated over the opportunity and went to see the game. And yes, we saw Batistuta. One of my friends swore that after Batistuta kicked the ball, he could still steer it into whatever direction he wished.

At the stadium, a few seats behind me, there was an idiot. I understand football fans can take it a bit too seriously, but this one was not watching a game. He was watching a battle between enemies. If his team had lost, he might have done something regrettable.

Any time AS Roma got the ball, he would get visibly mad. He would get up and scream—not uncommon in a stadium. But this guy would also kick chairs. At one point, Ahly fumbled a corner kick, and this man grabbed a bottle and threw it into the field. Luckily, the bottle was open and spilled its content before it fell limp on the grass.

All eyes turned to the man. The guy on his left smacked him on the head. The guy on his right pulled him back down into his seat. They physically dominated him, and he knew they could overpower him in an instant. He remained in his seat. We turned back to the friendly game.

Now he started screaming obscenities. Mind you, he was loud, but of the reported 85,000 people at the stadium that day, maybe a dozen or so people paid him any mind. His screaming went from just an annoying fan rambling to a madman making disturbingly graphic threats. I turned around and saw the four or five people surrounding him, grabbing him, and drowning his voice. Not a minute later, Ahly scored the first goal.

After the celebrations, I turned back and the man had turned completely normal. In fact, it was hard to say that he looked crazy only a few minutes before. The game ended 2-1, with Al-Ahly victorious. I was disappointed. But the rumor at the time was that the Egyptian government wined and dined AS Roma and asked them to throw the game. That second goal that Batistuta missed was totally suspect. And of course, Totti had a "training injury" and couldn't play. But isn't that what everyone says when their team loses?

This was more than twenty years ago. As far as I can tell, the event with that idiot was never documented. I can't even remember the exact words this man was yelling. All I remember was being shocked. Who knows, he probably is a changed man today or isn't even into football anymore. So this is the only account of the event. Other than the dozen or so people around him, no one even saw it happen.

But if this were today, the man would have probably tweeted his comment. As insignificant as it was, writing the words down would have amplified his voice in a way that forced the equivalent of the entire stadium to pay attention. There's no equivalent of smacking a tweet on the head. Instead, we'd argue about free speech.

The web is fast and loud, but when you slow down, you can hear every single individual voice. The smartest voices are drowned out by comments from the gut. While this event faded from collective memory, a foolish tweet stays up forever. It can be a time sink, and sometimes it can even destroy the author who might have since changed.

In these new times, we need to develop skills suited to our circumstances. In an age of real-time public communication, the ability to pause and think before speaking—or tweeting— has become crucial. Restraint can be a powerful tool, and sometimes, the smartest move is knowing when to stay silent.

AS Roma game

The premise is simple, when you are being watched, you change your behavior. Imagine a survey that tries to collect data on extra marital affairs in the US. It asks, have you been faithful to your spouse? The answer, whether positive or negative, is unreliable. The whole point of an extra-marital affair is that it is a secret. Only a very small minority will admit it on paper.

Every interaction we have online is monitored. Whether it is talking with a friend, scrolling, or typing a search query, everything is monitored. Not only for nefarious reasons, but it is the medium by which the internet works today. This transparency of our lives is "breeding a society where self-censorship and risk-aversion are the new normal." (socialcooling.com)

This sounds true in theory, but what does it actually look like in practice? There is a video that resurfaced recently that fascinated me in more than one way. It showed that this social cooling is not only already happening, but kids are growing up with this as the new norm.

The video is of a hunter passing through a neighborhood after killing a deer. Some kids and their father confront the man in his barbaric ways. This is all too normal. Most people have a hard time reconciling that the fresh meat we eat comes from an actual animal that was alive. Where I grew up, it was custom to slaughter a few lambs in our backyard a few times a year. These were animals that I had played with before they met their end. I quickly became accustomed to it.

But the interesting part of the video wasn't that the kid was sad to see a dead deer, it's this statement that he made:

You are using a weapon to un-alive an animal.

I had to watch it a couple times before I grasped it. This is a child out in the real world, not creating content. In fact, the kid was in an extreme emotional state where he was dropping F-bombs. Why did he choose to censor himself at that moment? Un-alive? Was he trying to make sure the algorithm doesn't flag him? Why is he saying "un-alive" instead of kill? It's like he was optimizing for SEO out in the real world.

I'm not very much in touch with pop culture these days, but clicking on the trending tab on youtube will give you a good view of this trend. Where the SEO optimizers of yesteryear kept their tricks a secret, the youth openly say why they avoid certain words. They don't want to be demonetized. I felt old trying to decipher words like SAed, grape, and PDF.

But still, this kid was not the one filming the video. He was not an activist fearing of being canceled for voicing his opinion. He was not "creating content". He was merely voicing his emotions and right then and there he decided to self-censor. 15 years from now, when he is looking for employment, his future employer will find this video but still hire him. All because he didn't use the word "Kill."

Social media is full of people posting how awful dating apps are. I wrote about what the dating app I won't build will do. Instead of swiping, the goal will be intentional. Put users on training wheels and help them navigate the world of relationships. 

But I quickly gave up when I started asking questions to my friends in the dating market. One answer in particular threw me off-course. “I like this app, I had some pretty good dates there.”

By definition, a good date should be final, right? But not only was it not final, the same person had several good dates. My premises were wrong. My definition of dating was incorrect. The more people gave me this answer, the further I steered from my original goal. It is still true that people are having a hard time in the dating market, but it is a different market.

Rather than training individuals how to date, we need a cultural shift. We need to consider that online dating is the only option left for a majority of people.

It's still useful to help people navigate through ghosting, first interaction, no interaction, or hookup culture. However, what will be more effective is explaining the importance of our immediate surroundings. We go online to look for strangers while we are surrounded by people. It's harder to approach people today. It's scary. Mainly because we don't know anything about them, and we can't tell if they are interested.

There is an appeal to packaging people in a neat box we can filter by interest. We then swipe left or right as if the nutritional info will tell us all we need to know. You may look for drinks with sugar content less than 10 grams in your area, but the main and only ingredient for people is Natural Flavors. Nobody knows what natural flavors are.

The cultural shift needed is to make people less afraid of each other. Now that is something I don't have an answer for. However, it doesn't hurt to learn how to talk to each other... in person. Let's call it Speak Dating.

Ah, the Westinghouse Radio Hub. An Internet connected radio, cd player, and weather station. I was unboxing merchandise at an old job when I arrived at this box. I stopped on my trail and contemplated putting it aside for myself before any customer sees it.

In our upcoming sale, I spied on customers eying my device. They picked it up, read through the plethora of internet connected features, then put it down. I made several prayers that were all answered because every single one put the box back on the shelf. When the sale ended I used my 10 percent employee discount to get this marvel of technology.

At home, I placed it in my closet then somehow forgot all about it.

A long time later, I was rummaging through my closet when I found this box buried under old clothes. I stopped on my trail again, interrupting whatever else I was doing and opened the box. How I wish I had a picture of this device to show you. It’s nowhere on the Internet.

When I took it out of the box, I was stunned by the elegant design. A silver cylinder with flushed speakers on each side behind a soft black fabric. On the top, the disc reader opened futuristically on the press of a mechanical eject button. On the front a tiltable 5 inch back lit LCD screen. Jony Ive would have been proud.

But then, my first disappointment. This internet connected device wasn't wireless. You had to plug an ethernet cable to enjoy its promises. But this was the 2000s, of course I had an unfathomably long ethernet cable laying around somewhere.

Plug it to the router, plug it to the power, hit the power button and the screen lights up with one word: Initializing.

When you have waited long enough, the screen changes to Network error. Must be a problem with my router of course. I unplugged it from the router, then connected it directly to the modem. Nothing beats raw unfiltered Internet data.

Initializing... Network error.

I unplugged it from the modem, then plugged it back on the router. I loaded my network debugging tools and started my investigation. The domain it was attempting to connect to was no longer resolving.

So much for the Internet features for me I guess. At least it was still a Radio and a CD player.

Let's tune in to the radio. Automatic station search. Apparently, that requires the internet as well. After you wait long enough, Network Error.

Well let's go with CDs then. I was a big fan of Linkin Park. Pop the disc housing open, Hybrid Theory goes in, close it and the cd audibly starts spinning.

Album info... Oh you don't have an internet connection? Network error it is. Then the disc stops spinning.

I spent months trying to get this device to work. It became a night project where I'd sink my precious time that could have been better spent sleeping. The device served as a conversation piece on my desk for some time. But one day, out of spite, I threw it in the garbage.

Can't have long lasting hardware with Internet Powered Nonsense!

The job post is auto-generated, the interview is auto-generated, and the final decision is automated. Every step of the way is automated, from the job post to the final decision, to auto scale the hiring process.

No human required.

It’s only natural that candidates outsource the process, automate themselves into a company, and get a ping on their phone when they land a new job. I check my inbox and I see an email from a real company looking to hire. I plug the content into chat gpt and it generates a response that places me on a schedule to interview.

My lines are fed, the video feed is analyzed, and I am auto-rejected. It’s only a matter of time until my video feed is auto-generated, then I will only get a ping on my phone that will tell me I have a new job with a steep increase starting Monday.

Great questions are dumb questions in disguise: they haven't been refined.

I often tell programmers to formulate their questions to get yes or no answers. The first iteration of programming questions never make sense. They contain unnecessary elements, they contain frustration, they are designed to fail. That's exactly how they are supposed to come out.

The trick is to take the time to refine the question. Trim the fat, go straight to the point, state what your expectations and your result. A well written question answers itself.

In 2011, I joined a company and one of the first things my manager asked was my chat email. I sent them my yahoo email. Few minutes later, everyone in the team had added me to their chat. My coworkers all used a different handle. There was AIM, facebook, google, yahoo, and some that I don't even remember. After a few months working at the job, I switched to Empathy on Ubuntu. I didn't have to let anyone know, I just contacted them directly from my new handle.

Chatting and the protocol that makes it possible was solved.

But today, I face a new challenge when I meet new people. They ask for my Snap, request my Instagram handle, or "Are you on messenger?" I don't use any of these platforms for chatting. They may request my presence on Facebook, WhatsApp, or some other obscure application that I am not aware of. The only way I can communicate with them is if I join whatever walled garden they are part of.

Interestingly, SMS remains the one sanctuary where we can communicate without the constraints of exclusive platforms. Yet, SMS remains under constant threat, with tech giants like Google casting a long shadow over its future.

Also as a bonus, I have a record of my chat history in every company I have worked for. It's great material if you are writing a book about work. But not so much since everyone switched to using Slack.