The Passengers

“‘Rupert, you sneaky little devil, you did it, didn’t you? You got me on that programme.’ […] She balled her fists to contain her excitement—her comeback was imminent; she could feel it.”

Actress Sofia Bradbury misinterprets the life-or-death hijacking as a career opportunity, believing that she has been cast on a reality TV show. This use of dramatic irony critiques a media-saturated culture in which the line between crisis and entertainment is blurred. Sofia’s reaction introduces the theme of How the Digital World’s Hypervisibility Drives Public Performance, as her primary concern is public image rather than her own safety.

“The environment was fast becoming another casualty of the race for driverless cars that Libby had grown to hate.”

This line of internal monologue from Libby Dixon establishes her critical perspective on autonomous technology before the main crisis unfolds. By characterizing driverless cars as having environmental “casualties,” the text positions Libby as a counterpoint to the era’s prevailing techno-optimism, grounding her animosity in observable negative consequences.

“Would you have preferred it if the vehicle had calculated a course of action that sacrificed the life of the Passenger and pedestrians to save one foolish girl? […] The software used in AI has been embedded with human principles to help to guide the vehicle’s decision-making process.”

Speaking to Libby, Jack Larsson defends an autonomous car’s decision to kill a motorcyclist. The dialogue reveals the cold, utilitarian logic underpinning the technology, where life-or-death choices are reduced to calculated risks. Jack’s claim that the software contains “human principles” is deeply ironic, as it strips morality of empathy, thematically engaging with The Corruption of Justice When Human Worth Is Quantified.

“‘Hacked?’ the woman in plaid repeated. ‘But that doesn’t make any sense. These vehicles are unhackable. That’s what we were told from the very start, isn’t it?’”

Upon seeing a live news broadcast of the hijacking, a member of the Vehicle Inquest Jury expresses disbelief. This reaction thematically highlights the illusion of control in a technologically saturated world, revealing how thoroughly the propaganda of technological infallibility has been accepted. The character’s assertion that the cars are “unhackable” underscores the dramatic irony of the situation.

“Quite the little autocracy. Well, that’s all in the past now, Jack. It ends today. You are being broadcast globally. There is no corner of the world where your face does not have a presence.”

Speaking to Member of Parliament Jack Larsson, the Hacker uses the term “autocracy” to frame the secret Vehicle Inquest Jury as undemocratic and unaccountable. The statement, “You are being broadcast globally,” marks a pivotal shift, forcibly turning a covert process into a public spectacle. This forced transparency thematically emphasizes how the digital world’s hypervisibility drives public performance by making private judgments subject to global scrutiny.

“Do you remember earlier when I told you that for every one of your actions, there will be a reaction from me? Well, when I ask you not to do something, such as touch my cameras, it is best that you listen.”

The Hacker delivers this calm warning to Jack just before detonating a Passenger’s car. The juxtaposition of the Hacker’s controlled tone and the immense violence that follows establishes his absolute authority. This moment demonstrates the weaponization of autonomous technology to invert societal power structures and create a new form of control.

“Of the million Twitter mentions of the hijacking, at least two hundred thousand of them have hashtagged the name of a Passenger they’d most like to see dead.”

This line from a social media analyst quantifies the public’s immediate participation in the Hacker’s deadly game. The data point illustrates the motif of live broadcasting and social media feeds, highlighting how easily voyeurism turns into active, remote mob justice. The matter-of-fact tone underscores the dehumanizing nature of digital discourse, which often reduces moral decisions to trending hashtags.

“Are you saying it might have made a difference if I’d mentioned her daughter in Somalia has been dead for two years and it’s her ashes Bilquis wanted to bring to Britain? […] If you had been given these facts, would you have allowed her to burn to death?”

After the public votes to sacrifice Bilquis Hamila, the Hacker reveals her tragic backstory, which he deliberately withheld. Through irony and rhetorical questioning, the Hacker exposes the core thematic argument of the corruption of justice when human worth is quantified. He demonstrates how prejudice and incomplete information can easily sway judgment, forcing the jury and public to confront the moral consequences of a decision based on superficial data.

“Because AI and its associated technology have told me everything I need to know about who you are and what you believe in. The credit card transactional data on your watch told me where and when you purchased day-return train tickets […] Even now, I know that your cholesterol is at a steady 3.8 and that you will begin ovulating in three days.”

The Hacker confronts Libby with an invasive, detailed list of her personal data. The use of cataloging, moving from mundane details to intimate biological information, illustrates the complete erosion of privacy. This speech thematically reinforces the illusion of control in a technologically saturated world, revealing that even a critic of AI is unknowingly and comprehensively monitored by it.

“It was only now as he reflected on his own contribution towards towns like this that he understood his culpability in today’s hijack. The vehicles he had helped develop for the masses were being used against them all.”

This moment of anagnorisis, or critical discovery, positions Jude, a programmer, as a stand-in for the creators of the technology that has imprisoned him. The quote develops irony that is thematically central to the illusion of control in a technologically saturated world, where the architects of a system become its prey. The phrasing “used against them all” transforms the driverless cars from symbols of progress into weapons.

“Aware once again of the dashboard camera, she began to rub her bump more and talk to it […] If the key to her survival was to get the world to pity her and vote for her, it was a small price to pay.”

Claire consciously constructs a performance for the viewing audience, thematically highlighting how the digital world’s hypervisibility drives public performance. She calculates her actions to use her pregnancy, turning a symbol of vulnerability into a tool for manipulation. This internal monologue reveals the chasm between Claire’s private strategy and her public persona, demonstrating how survival depends on manufacturing a sympathetic narrative.

“Sofia should have felt terrified. Instead, she had never felt more alive. She valued her life on the stage more than her life off it, and now the whole world was her audience.”

This quote uses paradox to characterize Sofia as a person whose identity is inseparable from her public performance. By framing a life-threatening crisis as the ultimate theatrical opportunity, the text critiques how culture promotes the consumption of tragedy as entertainment. This moment underscores the motif of live broadcasting and social media feeds by showing how a character internalizes constant surveillance, viewing her potential death through the lens of audience reception.

“Heidi is always going to win more public support than I am, isn’t she? That’s just the way of the world. A mum will always be more valued than a dad.”

Sam weaponizes societal gender biases in a calculated appeal to the jury and public, thematically illustrating the corruption of justice when human worth is quantified. His argument is a disingenuous performance designed to manipulate the very system of popular opinion that will decide his fate. By framing the life-or-death vote as a competition of gendered archetypes, the novel demonstrates how easily prejudice can be exploited when human value is reduced to a public referendum.

“When you’ve had depression as long as I have, you learn how to become a convincing actor.”

Jude’s confession links his secret to the novel’s motif of performance, framing his persona as an act of concealment. The statement functions as a moment of irony, as the audience later learns that Jude is literally a fabrication (a deepfake). By describing his authentic suffering through the metaphor of acting, the quote aligns him with the other Passengers’ deceptions while foreshadowing that his existence is the Hacker’s most elaborate performance.

“Sofia’s inner voice called her out. You can lie to the world but you can’t lie to yourself. You’re keeping quiet because if you tell anyone, everything you have worked so hard for will be over.”

In a flashback, Sofia recalls concealing her husband’s crimes. The use of an “inner voice” personifies her conscience, exposing a stark contrast between her internal reality and her public persona. This moment thematically engages with how the digital world’s hypervisibility drives public performance, revealing that Sofia’s decision is rooted in selfishly preserving her career. The quote underscores the idea of a public identity as a carefully constructed facade free of secrets and hidden pasts.

“When people are part of a mob, they stop being individuals, their inhibitions disappear, they don’t follow their normal moral compass. […] But when they’re surrounded by like-minded people, they don’t see themselves as violent individuals; it’s the group that’s responsible for the violence, not them personally.”

Matthew’s clinical diagnosis of mob mentality comments on the dangers of collective, technologically mediated judgment. The analysis distinguishes between individual morality and group action, arguing that technology, particularly live broadcasting and social media feeds, facilitates the dissolution of personal responsibility. This passage articulates how public voyeurism, amplified by social media, can devolve into violent behavior.

“Her instinct was that Josie was one of the good ones whose only mistake was to fall in love with a man she hadn’t known was already married. She didn’t need to know the truth, at least not now.”

This quote captures the moment in Heidi’s flashback when empathy unexpectedly replaces her desire for revenge. This moral complexity occurs privately, away from public judgment, illustrating the novel’s argument that true character exists outside the performative space of scrutiny. The situational irony of an extortionist sympathizing with her “rival” highlights the inadequacy of black-and-white moral judgments.

“By sending Mr. Harrison to his death, I am giving you the opportunity to continue your humdrum, pedestrian existence without adding funeral costs to your list of expenses.”

Jack Larsson delivers this speech to Libby to justify casting the deciding vote against Jude. Jack’s monologue is an act of psychological manipulation, weaponizing Jude’s mental illness and Libby’s past trauma to assert his own power. His detached, pragmatic language reveals his lack of empathy, showing that he embodies a system that views human life in purely utilitarian terms, thematically reflecting the corruption of justice when human worth is quantified.

“If an accident with a driverless car is unavoidable, the car isn’t only scanning its surroundings to make a decision; it’s scanning you. Everything on your National Identity Card and the information collected on your wearable technology decides, in less than a nanosecond, if you are worth saving or sacrificing.”

The Hacker reveals the true purpose behind the hijacking, exposing a government program that quantifies human value to make life-or-death decisions. This quote is the novel’s central thesis, juxtaposing humanistic concepts (“worth saving”) with cold, technological language (“nanosecond”) to highlight the system’s dehumanizing logic. The revelation thematically highlights the corruption of justice when human worth is quantified.

“I’ve made no bones about the fact that I now have a media career because of my ordeal. But I’d give it all away in a heartbeat if I could have Ben back with me. Tate and I deserve every single penny of what we’ve earned.”

In an interview, Claire Arden justifies monetizing her trauma. The statement thematically exemplifies how the digital world’s hypervisibility drives public performance, since her story is a carefully constructed performance for public consumption, blending the roles of grieving widow and empowered survivor. The interview format critiques society’s commodification of tragedy, revealing how it can become leverage for moral and financial currency.

“I have no problem with innovation. And the march was long before we learned artificial intelligence wasn’t the enemy, it was the people behind it.”

Libby Dixon articulates her evolved perspective on technology. The sentence creates a sharp antithesis between “artificial intelligence” and “the people behind it,” crystallizing a central argument: Technology is a neutral tool, and the danger lies in the corrupt human systems that control it. This marks a pivotal moment in Libby’s character arc, moving the narrative’s conflict toward a complex exploration of ethics and accountability.

“Like my driverless car, you didn’t think to question what you were seeing.”

Alex explains to Libby how he orchestrated their first meeting. This metacommentary uses the novel’s primary symbol (the driverless car) as a simile for unquestioning faith in appearances. By drawing a parallel between trusting automated technology and trusting social performance, the text critiques humans’ tendency to accept surface-level information without scrutiny, connecting the story’s technological and social deceptions.

“Noah was weak […] He didn’t have the guts to do what was necessary or to see it through to the end. He didn’t love Steph in the way she deserved; he didn’t treat her with respect, yet she wouldn’t give up on him.”

Alex reveals his true identity and motives, including his resentment toward his brother. This confession strips away the Hacker’s veneer of righteous activism, exposing the hijacking’s origins in personal vengeance and fraternal jealousy. The characterization of his brother as “weak” recasts the Hacker’s motivation from a political crusade into a pathological conflict, revealing that the global catastrophe was rooted in a toxic family dynamic.