PILOT and NAVIGATOR
Because your father loved to fly, he bought you a plane to celebrate your birth, and he took parked it in a hangar at the airport where he took care of it for you until the day came that you were old enough to fly it yourself.
Throughout your childhood your father took you to the airport and let you sit in your airplane and play with the controls as you made engine noises and imagined zooming in and out of the clouds in the wide-open, sun-lit sky of your mind. As you grew older, your father let you start the engine and taxi out onto the runway, teaching you more about the controls and how to fly. But he wouldn't let you fly unless you had your navigator with you, which he built himself: a state-of-the-art, mirror-image robot-navigator.
Being the mechanical genius he was, your father used the latest in artificial intelligence software and hardware, designing your robot-navigator using open architecture that could be upgraded each year in order to mirror your changing physical appearance and increased navigational requirements. The programming of your robot-twin was complex, to be sure, yet intuitive enough that it could, by default OS programming, automatically TAKE OVER THE CONTROLS from you should you ever fail to maintain optimal flying control at any given time during a flight. In this way, the robo-navigator was "insurance" against the inevitability of your falling asleep at the controls or become incapacitated in any way.
Your father did all this for you, knowing you were prone to daydreaming and becoming so distracted by thoughts and ideas that it was hard to stay focused on what you were doing for any length of time. So, to help you learn to train yourself to stay "awake," your father designed your robot-navigator to resist giving the controls back to you just in case you were dreaming that you woke up and did not know the difference.
Of course, the robot did really not know where to fly, just how to activate and monitor the plane's autopilot system whenever you are not in complete control.
Your father designed the navigator to do a real navigator's job -- to plot the best route to the destination given by the pilot. It is the pilot's job to handle the take-off, establish flying altitude and cruising speed, avoid dangers along the way, and then descend and land the aircraft safely. Unless for some reason the autopilot becomes activated.
The only failure in the design, if it was a failure, was the fact that the navigator was not designed to land the plane if the pilot ever became fully incapacitated. So there was always the possibility of a disaster with only a navigator at the controls.
Another drawback was that the longer the robot-navigator stayed in control of the aircraft, the harder it was for it to relinquish control back to the pilot. The "default" programming of the navigator forced the pilot to take drastic measures by manually shutting it down and physically removing from the pilot's seat and putting it back into the navigator's seat and rebooting its computer system.
That's the background. Now for the story:
You finally passed your flight training and took your first solo flight. It was as delightful an experience as you imagined it would be. Your navigator plotted a perfect flightpath and you followed it. This routine would be repeated every day and at least once per flight, after first making sure that the navigator could successfully take over the autopilot functions for you, you began turning over the controls to your navigator so you could crawl into the back and take naps. This went on every day until after a few years, the routine was as soon as you took off, you just handed the controls over to the navigator and went to sleep for the whole flight, dreaming about flying instead of actually flying your own plane.
ONE DAY WHILE YOU SLEPT... your navigator was monitoring the controls as usual, but a storm blew up quickly and lightning hit the plane. The navigator was programmed to awaken the pilot in the event of an emergency, but you were so deeply asleep that you were confused when you were abruptly awakened by the emergency. Your plane was going down fast and just before you augered into the valley floor, your robot says, "Everything is A-OK. Good flight, sir."
"Oops!" you think to yourself. "What exactly was I thinking...?"
The CAR OWNER and the chauffeur
(The car owner is you, and you are constantly being conned by your ego to let him drive your car -- even though he hasn't a clue how to drive.)
ONE DAY YOU walked by a car dealership and fell in love with a new car on the lot. Oddly, there was a man sitting in the car who never got out of it. A salesman approached you and asked if you'd like to take it out for a spin.
"Yes, absolutely!" you say enthusiastically, and reach for the door handle.
"Uh, sir, this is a special deal type of car... it comes with that chauffeur. If you buy it, it's your car, but the deal is, if you buy it, you have to let the chauffeur drive you wherever you need to go. He has everything he needs, you don't have to do anything special for him. I'm writing down my very best offer for you to consider... what do think?
"Wow!" you exclaim. "That's a great deal...I'll take it!"
"Fine, sir, if you'll step inside here, we'll just take care of the paperwork and you'll be on your way in no time at all."
Soon you're in the back seat of your beautiful new car with Jeeves, your chauffeur, comfortably awaiting your instructions. You decide it might be fun to say, "Home, Jeeves." Jeeves just looks at you like you're crazy.
"No really," you insist. "Let's get going... I'll explain how to get there once we're on the way."
Jeeves nods politely, starts the engine, puts the car in gear, then tries to steer the car by turning the rear-view mirror. The car immediately crashes into several other new cars on the lot. People scatter.
"Jeeves, excuse me, but WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" you shout at the back of Jeeves' head.
"Ex-cuse me, sir?" Jeeves replies, perfectly calm.
"I said, what the HELL are you doing, trying to drive the car without turning it by the steering wheel?"
"You mean the rear-view steering mirror, sir?"
Puzzled, you shake your head a few time to clear it. Finally, you muster a simple "Huh?"
"Yes, sir," Jeeves says in perfectly proper English. "You see, I can't be expected to know where to go unless I can see exactly where I've been, and everyone knows you can see where you've been by using the rear-view steering mirror."
"But...but...but..." you stammer.
"Yes, sir, I know it seems a bit odd, but I find it quite calming to know where I've been wherever I happen to be going, and so you see, I must keep my hands firmly on the rear-view steering mirror."
"But Jeeves," I gasp, "That rear-view mirror does DO anything but let you look behind you."
"Yes, sir, isn't it a wonderful invention? Would you like to proceed to your destination?"
"Uh, sure, yeah, I guess so..." you say, completely flummoxed by your chauffeur's convoluted logic.
Jeeves starts the car again, putting it into reverse this time, and gives the rear-view mirror a jaunty twist, but doesn't bother to touch the actual steering wheel again as he mashes the gas.
CRASH!!!
Monsters...
You're a child whose dreams are so frightening that you cry out for your father to come and protect you. And your father does come, every time, into your room, turning the light on and sitting beside you to ask, "What is it, my child?"
"There were monsters chasing me!" you cry. "They were scary, and they hid under the bed and in the closet when you came in."
"They did, did they?" your father replies with a wry smile. "I think we need to get a flashlight and look for them together, don't you?"
"NO!" you squeak. "They're too scary! You do it!"
"No, we're going to look together, OK, and that way you know there's nothing to fear."
"Well, OK..." you say.
Your father gets his flashlight and gets down on the floor and says, "OK, come on down here so we can look together."
You carefully get off the bed and hide behind your father, then kneel down to peek where he's holding the light under the bed.
"Looks like monster dust!" your father says. "That's what happens to monsters when you have the courage to stare them down. Shall we do the same to the ones in the closet?"
"Yep..." you say, "Can I open the door first?"
"Be my guest," your father smiles as he get up, walks over to your closet and stands there, waiting for you to take charge.
"Monster dust!" you laugh out loud, and you're picked up and hugged by your father as he carries you back to your bed and tucks you in.
"Remember monster dust," he grins. "Do you want to keep this flashlight tonight?"
You grab the light and hide it under your pillow as you watch your father leave your room, looking back and winking at you.
"Good-night!" he says.
"Good-night!" you whisper back, closing your eyes, finally feeling safe and secure.