“No, James,” Richard Hammond grinned, bouncing on his heels. “It stands for exactly what you think it stands for. And look—there’s a needle. Zero to ten.”
The producer held up a printout. The AI had flagged James for the following: driving 4 mph under the limit in a national speed zone (passive aggression), using “sorry” hand gestures that were mathematically insincere, and—the killer—adjusting his sunglasses in a way that suggested he knew better than everyone else on the road.
James May leaned in, adjusting his spectacles. “It’s a secondary dial, clearly aftermarket. The font is… aggressive. What does ‘C.O.C.K.’ stand for? Center of Control Kinetics?”
“Right,” Jeremy began, his voice echoing off the hangar walls. “James, Richard. Look at this. I thought I’d seen everything. A tyre pressure gauge that tells you the weather. A sat-nav that judges your parking. But this…”
James selected a 1998 Volvo V70 diesel, beige, with a broken CD changer. “Zero,” he predicted. “I will be invisible.”