The Airplane Problem

7:07 AM

Ethan’s fingers hovered over the radar screen, tracing two blips hurtling toward Logan’s single runway—Delta 722, an aging 737 with a catastrophic hydraulics leak, and KLM 143, a packed A380 crippled by an engine fire.

The situation was simple: one plane would get the runway; the other would need to go down someplace else.

Following landing protocol, the choice was clear: Delta 722 had entered Logan’s airspace seven seconds earlier than KLM 143. Ethan opened the comms.

“Delta 722, Boston Tower. Cleared to land Runway 22L, wind 270 at–”

An arm reached over his shoulder, a slender hand slapping his mic off. Jenn, a coworker, glared at him.

“Delta has 73 people onboard. KLM has 219. Do the math.”

“What?”

“Minimize casualties. Seventy-three dead, or two hundred nineteen. Three to one. It’s not even a debate.”

“I follow the regulations.”

“Then it's on you for killing those people on KLM.”

Jenn’s voice burned with intensity–this was important. She was also a fixer, someone who got shit done. She’d sweet talk baggage handlers into doinig overtime, shut down screaming executives with a raised eyebrow. Jenn navigated people like Ethan navigated airspace.

He thought long and hard about what she said—a “long think” being about ten seconds for an air traffic controller. For the first time in his career, Ethan ignored the manual.

“KLM 143, you are cleared for landing. Delta 722, enter a holding pattern.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Delta’s pilot screamed right before Ethan muted his line. He could imagine the terror of a pilot at the controls of a dying plane.

7:09 AM

“Wait!” A voice crackled over the intercomm. “This is Delta Legal. Per CFR 14 Part 93, Logan’s slot rules mandate priority for our declared emergency. Reverse your decision or face an FAA enforcement action.”

“Aren’t you also concerned about the 219 passengers on KLM 143?”

“I am concerned about my client.”

The lawyer's one-sidedness felt dirty, almost immoral. Yet, did savings the lives on KLM mean violating the law? If there was one thing Ethan wasn’t prepared to do, it was to violate the law.

“KLM 143, hold. Delta 722, begin a landing approach.”

7:10 AM

Boots pounded into the tower.

“Sergeant Sanders here. KLM is carrying 20 Navy SEALs—heroes returning from active duty in the Middle East. They earned that runway.”

“It's more complicated than that.” Ethan explained the legal threat from Delta’s lawyer.

“You would side with a lawyer over the Navy SEALs?”

Jenn cut in: “KLM’s transponder just squawked 7700, and KLM does have more passengers.”

More passengers and a Navy SEALs team. Ethan made a snap decision and this time it was final.

“Delta 722, go around. KLM 143, cleared straight-in.”

7:11 AM

Senator Johnson bellowed through Ethan’s headset. “My daughter is on Delta flight 722! Delta is an American carrier. Americans first!”

“Technically, KLM is carrying more Americans.”

“Resectfully, you need to respect the chain of command!”

Ethan wondered if senators were actually the chain of command. “Which political party are you?”

Senator Johnson gave the wrong answer.

“Sorry, Senator. The FAA reports to the executive branch, not congress. The law is the law.”

7:12 AM

The FBI called next. “KLM is transporting 20 of MS-13’s most wanted killers. They need to face justice.”

“A big case?”

“The biggest: this will break MS13’s momentum in the Americas and save lives.”

“How many lives? Give me a number.”

“How many? Law enforcement is not solving a math problem!”

Jenn gave him a sign again. Ethan muted his mic.

Jenn whispered: “Those 20 killers would be better off dead. Justice served.”

“Subtract 20 from KLM?”

“Make it 40. A 2.0 terrorist multiplier.”

Ethan nodded and scribbled “-40” on his notepad.

7:13 AM

“Mark Johnson, Head of National Security. Delta is carrying the Secretary of State—she’s negotiating a peace deal to save millions. You need to let her land.”

“Sorry, I’ve given KLM permission to land, and FAA regulations state that–”

“Break the regulation now.”

“But it’s the law.”

“Why do laws exist?”

“I don’t know.”

“To protect this nation’s security, that’s why, you idiot!”

Ethan hated being called an idiot. But he thought about the 20 terrorists on KLM, and how the Head of National Security was most likely above the law. He had to update his decision.

“Delta, you are cleared to land on runway one.”

7:14 AM

A Boeing executive called. “KLM is a 737-MAX8. Another crash would breach our sales contracts, thousands of job lost and billions of dollars gone.”

“You want me to sacrifice lives for profits?”

“Of course I am.” The Boeing executive paused before adding, “We are a defense contractor.”

Jenn tapped his shoulder. “Look at this, Ethan.” She pulled up a webpage entitled 'US Federal Government VSL'. It stated that the government values a human life at 12.5 million dollars when it makes decisions—decisions on such things as whether to repair a bridge or not.

Ethan typed the number of people on each plane into his calculator and (in his role as a federal employee) multiplied their value to the US government.

He remembered something else. His ex-wife was visiting Amsterdam and might be on a plane. He adjusted his calculation again.

7:15 AM

Jenn thrust a mobile in front of him. A bearded man was shouting on a YouTube livestream, the page showing 2.1M active viewers. “If America is really a democracy, the FAA will listen to the people! Land Delta now!”

A poll flashed: 97.2% of the audience had voted for Delta.

Jenn scrolled. Twitter and Instagram had various polls. Some were over 90% for Delta, some over 90% for KLM, each “proving” public support, or else proving their audience agreed with its host.

The foundation of America is Democracy is what they taught Ethan in school. He considered how to factor democracy into his air traffic control decision-making process.

7:16 AM

The landline buzzed.

“Bark! Bark!” A cacophony of dogs rang out over the line. A voice yelled over them. “K-9 Officer Jackson. KLM’s got 30 rescue shepherds—we need to prioritize these canine lives!”

Easy-peasy.

“US regulations prioritize the value of human lives.”

“Delaying our rescue team will cost lives in Mexico City’s earthquake rescue!”

“I think you misunderstand, we are not delaying them, we are….” Ethan thought about how to explain he was sending the canines into a fiery descent into the sea.

“You are what, then?”

Jenn mouthed 'no', and mimed zipping her lips.

Ethan replied, “Sorry, my lips are sealed.”

“How can your lips be sealed when you are talking to me right now?l”

Despite knowing it was rude, he didn't want to argue, and hung up on K-9 officer Jackson. He jotted down a brief note down about the canines.

7:17 AM

The situation was getting complicated, and both airplanes were running out of time. The human mind can only deal with so many parameters. There was one thing in the world that could truly handle a multidimensional problem such as this.

AI.

Ethan furiously typed the pertinent facts of the situation into his terminal, properly spelling and capitalizing all the words, even though Jenn kept pleading that it wasn’t necessary.

Ethan’s eye twitched as he waited for the AI’s answer. Then, boom!

>”Autonomous landing decision solution–Delta 722 lands at Boston Red Sox stadium so the passengers can watch tonight’s game, and KLM 123 lands at Cafe Polonia where the passengers can go Dutch and split the bill.”

Ethan hit the caps-lock key.

“AIRPLANES NEED TO LAND AT AIRPORTS.”

>>”There are 572 airports in the United States. Would you like to learn more?”

“No!” he shouted so loudly everyone in the control room looked around.

Joseph, the tech guy, rushed over and apologized for the AI. “The algorithm is trained on a large language model. The solution kind or makes sense when you think about it that way, doesn’t it?”

7:18 AM

Suddenly, an art historian burst into the control tower. Ethan didn’t know how an art historian got there, but there were a lot of museums in Boston.

“Delta’s cargo includes Leonardo’s Salvator Mundi, worth $400M and a priceless piece of the world’s cultural heritage!”

“Priceless meaning no value, or infinite value?”

“You would erase art history for a few lives?”

Joseph chimed in: “I watched Netflix and the Salvator Mundi is a fake.”

Ethan added ‘art’ and ‘art fraud’ to his notes.

An environmentalist pushed the art historian aside.

“KLM’s is carrying a full load of lithium batteries which will spoil Nantucket’s waters and require a three-year cleanup. Delta’s payload is clean.”

The control tower suddenly felt airless, a feeling of vertigo threatened to overcome him. It was all getting too much. For a few seconds, he would tune them out, Ethan gazed out the control tower toward the green grass below. A man stood there, having clearly jumped the perimeter fence, waving a hand painted sign: “FAA regulations are a hoax!”

Ethan looked down at the formula he had sketched out on his notepad:

Divert(A,B) = argminₓ[ (∑(Fatalities + Art·δ) × ∏(1+Lawyers/CommonSense) ÷ (Runway·sin(Taxiway) + AI) * Probability of ex-wife in Amsterdam+ ln(Stakeholder Screeching + Twitter Fallout - 40), Environmental Damage / Democracy ]

where δ=1 if Da Vinci, 0 if “Ersatz” (ε=0.001), and CommonSense→0 as Lawyers→∞

7:19 am

The tower erupted with senators, soldiers, policy experts, and art historians all shrieking at each other as the two airplanes in the sky barreled forth toward a single runway.

No one noticed Ethan quietly remove his headset, stand up, and walk out.

Sixteen-hour shifts, eight years without a raise. Starbucks was hiring.

Ethan hailed the transport to the terminal and jumped in. The driver, a man in his 60s glanced back.

“Rough day?”

“You can say that again.”

Ethan had seen him regularly, but never exchanged more than a few words.

In fact, the driver avoided airport ‘office politics’, and all the previous year's fiery debates about Trump and Biden. He had seen Reagan terminate all 11,000 civilian air traffic controllers in the 1981 showdown. What could be a big deal compared to that? These days, he had other things he held more dear in his life than pointless debate.

“In the old days, we would call the situation in the control room FUBAR.”

Ethan mentally worked out the meaning of the acronym.

“FUBAR. You can say that again! How did you come to driving a transport, anyway?”

“A long story, too long for this ride, but life goes on, my friend, life goes on.”