Many of us who fly for business and/or pleasure are all too aware of the myriad issues plaguing the 21st-century airline industry: everything from cybercrime targeting ailing IT systems and Boeing's ongoing nightmare to US commercial airline pilots being forced to retire at age 65, contributing to a diminishing workforce that has less of the sort of wisdom that can't be picked up in a flight simulator. The exact sort of experience you want your flight crew to have if, say, your aircraft loses an engine during takeoff.
This is only the tip of the iceberg. And our submitter Greta, reporting from the inside, shows us that even a win could be a dangerous loss waiting to happen:
This will be a departure in that it's about something that is soon to happen, rather than that which already was. Looming in the near distance is an event about which I'm trying my best not to give into apocalypse fetishism, but it's difficult not to.
We make aircraft. They're large, expensive flying robots. Our company is tiny. We're slowly growing, but could very comfortably fit in the 1966 General Motors New Look bus featured in Speed. We've produced, on a good year, up to three aircraft, with all design, programming, assembly and testing done in-house.
This quarter (and into next quarter), we're about to have a whole lot of the right kind of problem; our orders have approximately quintupled, and they're for a heavily revised version of the aircraft that is still partially theoretical. The designs are sort of done, we have some of the hardware that will be running our code, and some of the code is written and working. Some of it is written and non-working. Some of it is yet unwritten. The code carried forward from the previous version has been flown, but none of the new code has flown.
Our development team is facing a fascinating pile-up of pressures.
There is a contingent of fixed-term contracted interns who have been doing some heroic heavy lifting but whose contracts are up in a couple of weeks due to the college schedule; new blood will need to be trained and in the trenches to backfill them.
Some of our (custom) hardware has known design faults and needs modification and re-production, or is in the middle of production and we all hope and pray that no modification requests are needed.
We're doing our damnedest to write production-worthy code and tests as we go, and I would describe the design and review atmosphere as healthy, but bugs can happen and are happening: bugs of the category where, if they were released to an aircraft in the sky, the aircraft would become suddenly reacquainted with the ground. Some of those bugs can be fixed in firmware, and for some of them we need to ask our long-suffering electrical engineer to pretty please pull off a miracle with a soldering iron so that we can continue development before a new board is released.
Fully-functioning test hardware is scarce, and on a near daily basis developers need to have a polite conversation about who gets to perform a flash validation (I have not observed rock-paper-scissors yet).
We also simply don't have the bodies to physically build aircraft in the way we have in the past. Upper management has painted a picture for me where six weeks from now, the CEO, managers, all of my developers and me may be assembling and testing one or two hundred batteries by hand. (I have demanded pizza if this comes to pass.)
All of this in service of an early Spring deadline, with a parade of non-negotiable activities like careful flight testing before it.
Safety is paramount, and no corners will be cut. But picture where we are now: a frenzy of development, then the eye of the storm, the company holiday shutdown, where we all try our best to enjoy the time off without dwelling on what we're getting ourselves into in 2026.
I've always purposely avoided jobs where my screw-ups might produce serious injury or death. I have the utmost respect for those who assume this awesome responsibility and care about doing the best job possible. I feel for Greta and others like her, and I really hope that if or when push comes to shove, her company prioritizes safety over all else. We've already endured too many horrific examples of what happens when corners are cut in service of budget and time constraints that were never realistic to begin with.