THE MECHANICAL MAN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20244, 2 May 1929, Page 16

THE MECHANICAL MAN.

CONTROLLER OF TRAFFIC.

SYSTEM IN NEW YORK.

HUMAN ELEMENT ELIMINATED. [FROM our own correspondent.] NEJV YORK, April 3. Those acquainted with the New York method of traffic control will be interested in the new development of Robot's functions in the American metropolis. The mechanical man now controls traffic on 75 miles of str.eets at 440 intersections in the heart of tho city. The new system replaces eight manual control points, and releases from duty a largo number of patrolmen. It .is predicted that in a very few years the traffic system will bo controlled entirely by radio. Robot is flexible in the performance of his duties. Separate motors for each street can bp adjusted by him to vary the time periods. Over a given time tho traffic lights on two main streets were operated as an experiment on a cycle different from the one operating the remaining traffic lights, and at the end of the interval all tho signals synchronised.

The human element in traffic control is now entirely eliminated by Robot. He can speed up or chpck traffic as he thinks best. In an such as an accident, ho can close an area to all traffic. This is particularly useful in a phase of New York life that happily does not exist in New Zealand—the apprehension of a bandit quickly after his exploit. Id is estimated that Robot will save £1,000,000 a year in salaries. Robot is a modest chap, says his biographer, Mr. L. H. Robbins, in the New York Times. Approach tho door of his plain little second-floor inside room in Thirteenth Street and look at him. You may think you s.ee a glorified gas meter, with a battery of his fellows alongsido. If you think him over-rated by publicity, take a glance at the maps of his kingdom on his walls; the chart of Manhattan will show at a glance the wonders ho is working. Emeralds flash from tho great avenues. Overhead is a big clock. As its second hand creeps round tho dial, a sharp clicking sound is heard. The emerald flashes disappear, all is dark. Another click, and behold, emeralds have turned into glowing rubies.

Far to tho north, in stately Fifth Avenue, tho limousine of the millionaire halts at his biading. Miles away to tho south, lorries rolling in and out of the Holland Tunnel that runs under the Hudson River, clamp their brakes on and await his pleasure. The tide of tho taxi in Times Squaro is divided, and the pedestrian walks in safety through it. Crosstown trolleys "step on it," smiting their cymbals in rejoicing. East and west go Harlem baby carriages unafraid. Elderly gentlemen with goldheadea canes saunter across Fifth Avenuo at tho Metropolitan Library as quiet at heart as the stono lions on its steps. Robot's batman sits by him. As tho master needs ho gives him food—electricity. As ho works, Robot hums a leisurely tune, and beams benignly at his map of his kingdom with his green eyes. By and by, ho closes his eyes, as if in reflection 011 the way of tho world. Five seconds' rest, and they are open again. Ho. never rests mora than five seconds at a time. Dressed becomingly in brass, copper, porcelain and rubber, greater, than Aladdin's genie, he keeps order in a city capable of moro chaos than any other spot in the world.