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Who’s behind the wheel? Visioning the future users and urban contexts of connected and autonomous vehicle technologies

ABSTRACT Connected and Autonomous Vehicles (CAVs) are promised by their developers to transform mobilities, making travel accessible to all – including those unable to drive due to age, affordability or disability – and thereby widen the distribution of what Urry calls ‘network capital’. This paper interrogates promotional visualizations about CAVs as they imagine future automated mobilities and the scaling up of the technologies from small trials to mass roll-out. It analyses a wide range of images from a CAV trial in a UK city and demonstrates that these images reinforce rather than disrupt traditional gendered associations of automobility. This study further develops this work and notes other ways in which visualizations of CAV-enabled network mobility reiterate existing network capital inequalities. It also pays careful attention to the background urban environment in which CAVS are pictured. The paper argues that an absence of people and place specificity enable CAV technologies to be imagined as being used in other locations and contexts. Hence the visualizations of CAV that picture only specific forms corporeal mobility also work to envision the mobility of entrepreneurial capital, as the software and hardware behind the driverless vehicle is shown as transferable to, and profitable in, different contexts and situations.


Introduction
'Wow, absolutely no hands? Wow, amazing!' (observer of the LUTZ Pathfinder trials, Milton Keynes, UK) Excited reactions, such as the quotation above, to the sight of an autonomous vehicle navigating its way around the urban environment are common in many interviews with members of the public. In the last five to ten years, Connected and Autonomous Vehicles (CAVs) have been featured on news programmes, articles, social media and in the promotions of their financial backers -often multinational, tech-based corporations such as Tesla, Google and Uber and car manufacturers Nissan and Volvo, to name a few. CAVs are coming to a street near you is the message, and many governments in Europe and the USA are allowing their public roads to become testbeds for trialling the technology in the hope of investment in the local area and economies.
The UK Government has announced that fully driverless technology will be appearing on British roads from the mid-2020s onwards (Department for Transport, Centre for Connected and Autonomous Vehicles, and Department for Business, Innovation & Skills 2016). CAVs are seen not only as a solution to a set of challenges that mass car ownership has createdfrom safety of drivers, passengers and pedestrians to congestion in many cities -but additionally are forecast to be a market worth up to £28bn in the UK alone by 2035, 3% of a global market of £903bn according to Transport Systems Catapult (2017). To ensure the UK is a key player in the sector now and in the future, Innovate UK and the Centre for CAVs are also framed by government and developers as providing a social value in enabling more diverse social groups -including those with mobility or visual impairments -to access to high quality and personalised transport (Department for Transport 2015; UK Autodrive 2018). On this note, then UK Transport Secretary Chris Grayling (2017) boldly stated these groups will 'discover a new sense of freedom and independence'. There is an expectation that CAVs will extend and more equally distribute what John Urry (2007) refers to as 'network capital': the ability of individuals or groups to access different forms of mobility to improve their quality of life.
As well as policy statements and funding schemes, CAVs -like many other new urban technologies (Kinsley 2010;Wilson 2014;Rose 2017; Rose and Willis 2019) -are being framed by a plethora of visual communications. These promotional brochures, websites, tweets and so on are fundamental to how the uses and users of CAVs are imagined. How these technologies are visualised provides some indication as to how the manufacturers, governments and research organisations expect CAVs to extend social inclusion in mobility and who is expected to be the users of these vehicles, should they become widely available.
Like 'corporate storytelling' about smart cities, this imagery 'shapes the imaginaries and practices of a myriad of actors concretely building the city through particular case studies or pilot projects, decisions and everyday action' (Söderström, Paasche, and Klauser 2014, 307).
Visualisations are created which appear in brochures, on websites, in tweets, printed on billboards and expo stands, on YouTube and Pinterest, among other sites. Given this wide circulation of imagery, in so many formats to so many viewers, the idea that these images are targeted at any specific audience is difficult to sustain. Rather, it might be more accurate to suggest these images circulate to create positive feelings about technological innovation and new urban futures (Rose and Willis 2019).
This paper presents an analysis of the visual promotional material made for a CAV project in Milton Keynes, UK, supplemented with interviews with key stakeholders in the project. The paper analyses how the network capital created by CAVs is visualised as distributed across different social groups. By drawing on promotional material and interviews around the LUTZ Pathfinder public trials of an autonomous 'pod' vehicle, it will argue that these visualisations privilege those demographics who traditionally have high levels of network capital. The paper thus confirms and develops existing studies which show that many images of future urban transport reinforce rather than disrupt traditional gendered associations of personal automobility (Hildebrand and Sheller 2018;Bergman, Schwanen, and Sovacool 2017). However, the paper also extends that work by exploring the urban environment in which CAVs are pictured. There is a lack of people in these environments, and the city pictured also lacks place-specific imagery. The paper argues that these absences enable CAV technology to be imagined as being used in other locations and contexts. Hence the visualisations of CAVs also work to envision a mobility of entrepreneurial capital, as the software and hardware behind the driverless vehicle is shown as transferable to, and profitable in, different contexts and situations.
The next section discusses our conceptual framework, which emerged in an iterative process as we examined the images. First, we briefly review existing work on CAVs, which has paid some attention to the way they are pictured. We then discuss the notion of 'network capital' in greater depth and suggest how its distribution becomes visible in visualisations of CAVs. We then explore the notion of the 'smart city' as an urban environment full of digital technologies but also as a testbed of urban innovation and entrepreneurship, before reflecting on how that might be part of CAV imagery. The paper then moves on to discuss its case study and methods, before presenting its analysis.

Conceptualising visualisations of CAV: personal mobility and CAV mobility
Academic attention to CAVs has thus far paid rather little attention to their association with particular social identities. For the most part, it has focussed on the technical development of the cars, the on-board technology of sensors, radar, lasers, cameras and the software that drive the vehicles. Work in transport studies has focussed on user preferences, travel time use and the compatibility of driverless cars with pre-existing and potential systems of mobility (for example Fagnant and Kockelmand 2014;Brown 2017;Haboucha, Ishaq, and Shiftan 2017;Wadud and Huda 2019;Hudson, Orviska, and Hunady 2019). These studies often focus on professionals who travel as part of their job and so comparisons are made with business people using travel time to work. For instance, Wadud and Huda (2019) examine travel time use of chauffeur-driven passengers to predict travel time intentions of CAV passengers.
An intervention from Transport Systems Catapult and University College London in the form of a workshop led to a report encouraging engagement with the social sciences to better understand CAVs (Eriksson and McConnachie 2018). Such work may focus on the lack of regulation in the public trials of CAVs, particularly in relation to their data use. For example, STS scholar and Guardian blogger Jack Stilgoe has lamented the underlying neoliberal ideology of the organisations developing the vehicles. The issue of data-sharing is critical for Stilgoe because, unlike publicly-regulated industries, Google, Uber and Tesla investigate their own accidents and closely guard their 'big data' thus limiting the ability for learning from this data across the sector (Stilgoe 2017a;2017b). Cohen and Hopkins (2019) have also drawn attention to the possible consequences of CAVs for tourism, expressing concern that algorithm-generated tourist routes will prioritise sponsored commercial locations (shopping, restaurants, attractions) over non-sponsoring sites. Another body of work in social sciences has started to examine subjective experiences and power relations in the context of CAVs. For example, in their introduction to a Transfers special issue, Weber and Kroger (2018) draw attention to the ways in which mobilities may be reconfigured through driverless technology and they pay particular attention to how issues of mastery, pleasure, identity and control may be transformed by autonomous vehicles.
Looking at images of CAVs raises a somewhat different set of questions, which is about who CAV developers imagine to be the users of CAVs. Several studies have shown that many images of future urban transport reinforce rather than disrupt traditional gendered associations of personal automobility (Hildebrand and Sheller 2018;Bergman, Schwanen, and Sovacool 2017). We approach the depiction of personal mobility in relation to CAVs through the concept of 'network capital', which was developed by Urry (2007) as an extension to Bourdieu's theorisation of different forms of capital (social, economic and cultural). Since mobilities are central to contemporary life and power structures, Urry defines network capital as […] the capacity to engender and sustain social relations with those people who are not necessarily proximate and which generates emotional, financial and practical benefit. (2007,197) Drawing on Marx, Urry identifies the centrality of mobilities to maintaining capitalism.
Access to different forms of mobility extend social relations beyond the local and are necessary to an individual's social, economic and cultural relations and wellbeing in society.
In relating to Marx, Urry links the requirement for capitalism to create new things (eg. products, information or encounters) to the capacity of mobility to enable these creations.
Urry thus considers network capital as comprised of different elements that enable movement and operations at a distance including access to: transport, information and communications on the move, spaces to travel to and meet others within their networks.
High levels of network capital can therefore improve the actor's ability to prosper.
However, network capital is unevenly distributed amongst different groups: a minority of people are responsible for the majority of travel (Cresswell 2010;Cohen and Gössling 2015).
Inequalities in network capital are not only key to individual prosperity and a politicised issue (Cresswell 2010) but can also be essential to survive. When Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans in 2005, the racial divisions between who had -and who did not have -network capital was sharply illustrated (Urry 2007). The more distances to travel become greater and networks become ever more complex, the more greater levels of network capital are required simply to 'stay still' (Urry 2007) in the network further sharpening social inequalities.
Reflecting later, Urry notes the paradox that high levels of network capital enable freedoms for the individual alongside greater dependency on the systems and infrastructure that 'strip away certain human powers, sense of self and abilities ' (2007, 202). With this in mind we turn our attention to the shift of control of vehicles from the human to the computer.
The Society for Automotive Engineers (SAE International 2018) classification taxonomy for autonomous vehicles of six different levels (from 0 to 5) refers to a progressive shift of control from the human driver to the computer driver. Levels 0 to 2 are human driven but begin to incorporate some autonomous features; by level 5, the vehicle can drive itself under all conditions and it is this level which this article focuses.
The network capital of different groups is in part manifested in the different modes of mobilities with which they are associated. For example, motorised forms of transport, in particular, become associated through advertising and popular culture with wealth and status (Cohen and Gössling 2015). The association of cars with white masculinities has been reinforced in visual cultures of art, cinema and advertising since the mid-20 th century (Sheller and Urry 2000;Cresswell 1993;Hildebrand and Sheller 2018), and women are still less likely to own or access private transport than men (Hanson 2010). Social inclusion in network capital is cited by proponents of CAVs as an issue which driverless technologies could address enabling transport to those who are unable to drive due to impairment or do not have access to local public transport services (UK Autodrive 2018; Department for Transport 2015). However, questions about the cost of driverless vehicles -and importantly, who pays -raise some doubts about their potential effectiveness in this area.
It is through visioning that an insight maybe found as to how the authors and imaginers of the future expect network capital to be distributed amongst urban populations, and to which we now discuss.
Visioning is central to how markets for CAVs are brought into being and a major instrument by which transport industries and regulators motivate expectation, engineering, funding support and stakeholders (Bergman, Schwanen, and Sovacool 2017;Wilkie and Michael 2009;Reese 2016). The images are instruments by which capital in terms of investment, public acceptance and incentivisation is created. The imaginings of new technologies as they are materialised in policy documents, presentations, guidance texts and, this case, CAVs visualisations also associated CAVs with particular social identities. The work of Hildebrand and Sheller (2018) makes this point clearly. In their important study, they explore how advertisements for CAV manufacturers Volvo and Nissan show particular relations between gendered differences and automobility. Advertising campaigns largely featured heteronormative and white or Japanese middle-class couples enjoying the benefits of CAVs. Whilst men were not pictured as actively driving the vehicles, they were still predominantly in the driving seat of the car and 'delegating' driving to the CAV. Masculinity had been recast away from the active labour of driving the vehicle to directing its actions as the captain of the ship (Hildebrand and Sheller 2018). Further reinforcing gender stereotypes, the women in Hildebrand and Sheller's sample are depicted as passive, for instance, sleeping in the passenger seat. Exploring the visual content of images in this way is an effective method for understanding how new urban technologies envision not only the technologies but also the specific forms of social identities and relations (Apprich 2017;Vanolo 2014;Bergman, Schwanen, and Sovacool 2017;and see Rose 2016). It is to how CAVs are visualised as future mobilities -and crucially who is afforded this particular domain of network capital and what and who is valued in the visual culture of CAVS -that this paper focuses. It is to these 'visions' and how they fit into wider socio-technological promotions of policy and industry that we next turn as we argue that CAVs also need to be understood in relation to 'smart cities'.
Pictures of CAVs in our case study were almost always pictured in urban environments, and visions of CAVs are often part of, or at least very similar to, prevalent depictions of the smart city as entrepreneurial, efficient and frictionless (Kitchin 2014;Goodspeed 2015; Luque-Ayala and Marvin 2016); and Milton Keynes is one of the UK's leading smart cities.
There are many definitions of a smart city, but generally a 'smart city' is one where governmental, community, educational and commercial organisations gather and analyse large-scale, real-time, integrated datasets in order to increase efficiency, sustainability, citizen engagement and security (Willis and Aurigi 2018;Hollands 2008).
In the UK, under conditions of austerity (Joss, Cook, and Dayot 2017), local governments invite private companies to use their cities or towns to develop innovative digital technologies and systems in a bid to make existing urban processes more 'smart', or to gain external investment. This has led to a practice in many aspiring smart cities of continual testing and development in so-called 'urban laboratories' in order for the hardware and software systems be 'scaled up': that is, deterritorialized and reterritorialized in different places, thus increasing their profitability (Hollands 2008;Karvonen and Van Heur 2014;Halpern and Gunel 2017;Zandbergen 2017;Gardner and Hespanhol 2018).
Visioning also plays a significant part of the smart cities narrative in 'corporate storytelling' whereby technology and technology companies can provide the solution to 'problems' of contemporary urbanisation (Soderstrom, Paasche, and Klauser 2014). This narrative is reinforced, Vanolo (2014; argues, through visual depictions of the smart city as technology-dominated with visualised flows of data and transport, tall buildings and streets absent of people. The lack of human life signifying the political concealment and unconsciousness of urban citizens and residents as governments centralise the priorities of private industry over its constituents. In this sense, CAV testing on public roads fits in with a great deal of smart city activity: partnerships between local governments and private industry have led to a practice of continual testing and development on public spaces and infrastructure in cities to 'solve' the problems of urban mobility such as pollution, congestion, road safety and inclusion. The hardware and software systems are often trialled and developed in one place to be sold in other places and applications, increasing profitability. How do these images picture this entrepreneurial 'scaling up' of CAV technologies, which is such an important part of their appeal to funders? Is that mobility visible in the image itself (Rose 2016a)? How, with what effects?
After the next section introduces its case study and methods, this paper brings these two approaches to bear on the images of CAVs created as part of a trial in Milton Keynes. It examines the visual content of the image and suggests that the uneven distribution of network capital in relation to personal mobility is very visible in what the images show. It also explores how the images itself signals the 'scaling up' of CAVs, and why. It suggests that although the CAV images were generated in a specific place -Milton Keynes -the CAV images have erased most of the place-specific content. We explain this in terms of the need for CAV technology to be mobile itself in order to be profitable for its stakeholders and investors.

Overview of case study and methods
The LUTZ Pathfinder project ran from 2016-2017 before morphing into the Aurrigo- The CAVs used in the LUTZ trials differed from other driverless car trials by Uber and Google in that rather than modifying an existing road car, a new two-seater 'pod' was employed.
Additionally, the pods were to use the pavements of Milton Keynes and interact with pedestrians and cyclists rather than drive on the roads with other motorised traffic. Milton Keynes was an ideal environment in this case. As the last of the British post-war new towns, it has wide pavements, a relatively flat topography and a network of underpasses which enable the pod to move along a traffic-free route.
Alongside the trialling of the vehicles, TSC additionally directed communications about the project to local and national audiences, informing and consulting to ensure (in their words, from the interviews) 'public acceptance' of the vehicles. At the beginning of the project, TSC commissioned an independent survey by YouGov, finding 'strong support' locally as 61% of adults stated they would be 'very' or 'fairly' interested in using the CAVs (Transport Systems Catapult 2016b). Of course, this still means that 39% were relatively unconvinced by the technology, a number reinforced by UK Autodrive's (2017) survey when 33% answered they would not use a fully driverless vehicles and further 38% answered they were unsure. Throughout the three-year lifespan of the project there has been regular local and national media coverage across social media, press and television. Regular monitoring by the authors of local and national news sources have found little negative coverage of the project in the press although an article for The Institution of Engineering and Technology gives voice to transport activist groups who criticise MK Council's allowance of vehicles on public pavements (Loeb 2017). The research presented here examines the images and videos that have been created as part of the LUTZ communications as well as interviews with key figures within the TSC.
The visual promotions around the project, and especially who was pictured as included in the project and its outcomes, are important to understand. Not only because the viewer (and their values) is constructed through the image (Sturken and Cartwright 2001;Rose 2016b), but also because the assumed future users of CAVS are also constructed. Rose  (Rose 2016b). In response to this issue, the analysis framework included recording 'no people' alongside the estimated gender, age range, visible ethnicity, dis/ability, visible occupation and the type of image (photograph, CGI, data visualisation, mixed) of those who were pictured.
Similarly, videos were sourced from the same organisations' websites and YouTube channels and were also coded in accordance with the above factors. These sites of circulation (Rose 2016b) for the visuals also illustrate the 'spreadability' (Rose and Willis 2018) of digital images. The composition of the films was additionally noted: editing, pace and background music. In total, 64 still images and 13 videos were analysed along with a range of leaflets and reports from the UK Autodrive partners.
In order to gain important detail and context about the LUTZ project, we also interviewed five key personnel from Transport Systems Catapult and ORI involved in the management, public relations and execution of the trials. As the commissioners of many of the visuals, these interviewees provided insight from the site of production of the images. The semistructured interviews were conducted both face-to-face and over the telephone ranging from 35 to 75 minutes in duration. Notably, due to the reluctance of several interviewees to be recorded, whilst some discussions were transcribed verbatim, others were recorded in notetaking. Discussion of the LUTZ Pathfinder and related CAV projects were central to the interviews, which were later thematically analysed, following guidelines set out in Braun and Clarke's (2006) framework. We also visited the TSC and were shown much of the technology being used in the project. This added qualitative insight into how the researchers and communications of the project were structured and motivated in finding their audiences.

Visualising network capital: who are the users of CAVs?
As discussed in the preceding sections, amongst the many promises of CAVs is wider access to transport beyond current social groups; those with mobility impairments, or social and economic barriers to independent travel, will be able to hail a CAV to ride when and where they like. The following sections explore the likelihood of the imagined future by drawing on the promotional literature around the LUTZ project. There is also consideration of the relationship between the LUTZ and Milton Keynes. Transport can be symbolic of cities such as London and its 'tube' network, New York and its yellow taxi cabs thronging the roads, or

Business class? The diversity of imagined pod users
The LUTZ programme was framed by interviewees at the TSC as a possible solution to the long-discussed challenge in mobilities and transport studies of the 'first/last mile' of travel: the gap in many transport networks between the overall destination (for example a train station) and specific destination (eg. office) or starting point (eg. home) of a journey. In this case, the traveller to Milton Keynes needs to navigate her or himself from MK Central railway station to another destination in the town centre, about 1 kilometre away. This focus on the 'first/last mile' solution may, in part, account for the emphasis in much of the visioning of ease of use, availability and efficiency, but in this section we argue that it must also be explained as a particular representation of network capital (Urry 2007).
Promotional videos for the project vary from CGI animations emphasising the seamlessness and convenience of travel to newsreel style interviews and footage of the pods in action.

An early CGI video, Driverless Pods created by MK-based visualisation studio Virtual Viewing
(2014), begins with a female voice inviting us to 'imagine' that a world of clean, quiet and comfortable transportation was at our fingertips as the site of the image opens to reveal a set of futuristic (single-seater) pods parked and waiting outside Network Rail offices (in Milton Keynes, although the town is never explicitly named). The clean, crisp lines of the CGI footage show a scene free of clutter, lightly coloured in beiges of modern building complexes and soft greens of manicured trees and hedges (see Figure 1). The bright spaciousness of the scene accentuates the desirability of this modernity.
[ Figure 1 here] From the perspective of the CAV user viewing the pods, a (white, male) hand lifts into vision holding smartphone (as in Figure 1) where a message arrives informing that the pod is ready. As part of overlapping circuits of network capital (Urry 2007), smartphones are central to the pods (as well as Mobility as a Service and smart cities more widely) and in the videos are often used to demonstrate the convenience, ease and integration of different networks of transport, as well as indicative of a digital-literate professional. He presses a button on the screen of his smartphone and the fighter plane-like canopy of the pod lifts and invites him to sit. Inside, the calm-sounding female narrator informs us that as he is being chauffeured to his next destination, he may use his 'valuable extra time' the pod's inbuilt screen to catch up on emails, read newspapers or play games. The hand of the user is featured again as he points to and selects options from the on-screen menu. Travel time is classified here as economically valuable time. Although ethnographic studies and surveys show that this time is often used for window-gazing or non-economic activities ('productiveunproductivity') (Lyons, Jain, and Holley 2007;Jain and Lyons 2008), stated preferences amongst many professionals is for work and study, including CAV travel (Laurier 2004;

Wadud and Huda 2019). The emphasis on travel time varies a little from that found in
Hildebrand and Sheller's (2018) CAV research where time is used for recreational and relaxing activities. Here the focus is on work and information related activities: emailing or browsing the quality newspapers, or 'play games' as part of a break from intellectual activities. The emphasis on using travel time for personal and professional developmenteven the need to unwind with games -reinforces the narratives of corporate success that surround users of this pod as their layers of network capital allow for such benefits.
The pod moves in a fluid and smooth action without stopping for either foot or wheeled traffic -a seamless momentum unlikely to happen in a real city of people and objectssynchronised and naturalised within the urban environment. Here though, the world is separated from the businessman and he is free to concentrate on more 'important' tasks.
The viewer is informed that the pod can take him to appropriate shops, allowing integration with retail and leisure industries (Sheller and Urry 2000; see also Cohen and Hopkins 2019 for algorithm-generated tourist routes for commercial opportunities). The crosscommercial possibilities of the pod are further evidenced in a RDM Group brand Aurrigo's (2018) pamphlet listing one of the key benefits of pods as the ability 'to provide advertising opportunities with external graphics and internal display screens'. As part of the enhanced network capital afforded by the pods they align with capitalist agendas of creating new opportunities for exchange of goods and information (Urry 2007; see also Cohen and Hopkins 2019). Having selected the option to take him shopping, the pod arrives at contrasting her seamless MaaS-style journey integrating taxi, train and pod all booked and paid for using her smartphone whilst her bumbling middle-aged male colleague (in itself an advertising stereotype) drives and consequently is stressed by traffic lights and parking.
Given that the cost of First-Class rail tickets is roughly double that of Standard Class tickets, there is an indication here of our female protagonist's spending potential -or the size of her expense account. The female character also arrives at the meeting with plenty of time and relaxed in comparison to her male colleague who arrives late and looking anything but prepared. Transport is incorporated into professional life as a crucial part of ensuring the user is prepared and ready for work. Notably, studies predicting demand and travel-time use draw on professional and executive respondents who already travel in premium class (Hudson, Orviska, and Hunady 2019;Wadud and Huda 2019). MaaS and the pods here is targeted at a middle-class professional audience, money-rich and time-poor, who make 'smart' decisions to improve their productivity.
A later CGI animation, Driverless pods commissioned by Transport Catapult (Virtual Viewing 2015) begins the single shot sequence with a close-up of Milton Keynes Central station, (highlighting the integration of different domains of network capital) before tracking backwards until a pod comes into view, waiting patiently. The camera then rotates around the pod before the CAV slowly drives off, past a family and a businessman talking on a mobile phone, disappearing through an underpass. Like other videos here, the scene is bright and sunny, emphasising the modern city landscape (in this case, an uncluttered Station Square, Milton Keynes) and smooth, friction-free travel of the pod and other vehicles around it. These videos blend a range of greys, beiges, greens and blues of buildings, concrete boulevards and pavements, and sunny skies that underline the bright future ahead, as seen in Figure 2 (on the colouring of smart cities, see Rose and Willis (2018)). Station Square accentuates this vision as civic space where couples meet and embrace, and families bump into friends and there is no sign of the rough sleeping which has been a feature in recent years. The families and couple imply the heteronormativity of this city as in the foreground a heterosexual couple bump into a woman pushing a pram with child whilst an older, man in a suit talks spiritedly on his mobile phone. The population of this scene appear to be entirely white and there are no persons with visible disabilities featured.
[ Figure 2 here] These videos all imagine a future and ask the viewer to engage with this particular vision for the city transport. They offer seductive vision of clean cities and integrated MaaS solutions that will enable the commuter to move seamlessly through the city landscapes and 'gift' time to the user. Notably this 'gift' of travel time and MaaS-enabled transit is imagined here as being received by a social group who are already afforded network capital, from their use of digital smartphone technology to the integration with other modes of transport. Again, we find little indication of a diversifying userbase.
Gender, class and ethnicity are also reflected in the different roles given to people within the videos. With the exception of one woman, all 'expert' interviews are conducted with men. Even interviews with members of the public are somewhat skewed: In Autonomous vehicles go live for the first time in UK (Transport Systems Catapult 2016c), two members of the public are invited to comment. Whilst the man responds with a self-deprecating sentence describing his inclination towards backseat driving a CAV, the woman's response is flattened and reduced to the six words that opened this paper: 'Wow, absolutely no hands? Wow, amazing!' Aside from the brevity in word count, the words themselves are not overly substantial other than to position her as an enthusiastic spectator to the success of the project, in relation to the relatively 'expert' male commentators. Indeed, the technical details and objectives of the project are mostly explained in the videos by men. There are some substantive comments by women in other related videos including a reasonable in-depth contribution by a younger female member of ORI, but for the most part white males are cast in the role as 'experts'. The gender ratio and representation of ethnicity is similar to that which was admitted by the TSC interviewees and so the imagery here somewhat reflects their site of production more widely.
The secondary role of women in the project continues throughout the images sample with there is a notable absence of women pictured in or around the LUTZ. Women appear in just nine of the 64 images and only in one image is a woman pictured on her own. Contrastingly, there are 16 images exclusively populated by men, all but three of these images feature the pod flanked by men in business suits including politicians, industry leaders and Prince William (the business suit being commonly found in smart city images).
The one photo featuring a woman on her own is taken from the Realising Intelligent Mobility video so the character is a businesswoman. Her smart-casual dress code suggests she is a middle-class professional, on her way to a business meeting. This purpose is clearer still in Figure 3 (which was featured prominently at the top of project page on the TSC website) where an older man, in a business suit complete with briefcase.
[ Figure 3 here] Throughout interviews with TSC, there was a refrain that the pods were designed with 'everyone' in mind, including those with disabilities, however it was also stated by interviewees at TSC that the project was about testing the software and not accessibility hence the pod is not wheelchair-accessible. Reflecting this, there are no people with visible disabilities present throughout the images. There are photos by RDM Group released in January 2018 (after this sample was compiled) which document a visit to the pods by representatives of Guidedogs for the Blind charity including a visually-impaired man and guidedog. Generally, there is a lack of people with visible disabilities when considering the emphasis of disabled people as one of the principle groups of beneficiaries in much of the promotional literature around CAVs. Another glaring under-representation is of non-white persons with only four images that feature humans including visibly non-white people in either a primary or background role.
The imagined users of these pods are usually alone. Two of the key images from this campaign feature passengers of the pod (rather than testers, researchers or other project staff) accessing the vehicle alone. The earlier video proposes that the pod is a single seater, resonating with an emphasis on the passenger as an independent consumer who makes a series of rational choices about their mobility (Bergman, Schwanen, and Sovacool 2017).
Although interviewees claimed this was a vehicle for 'everyone' and attempts were made at events with charities and local community groups, the sample repeatedly imagines this 'everyone' to be a lone professional or managerial worker. An individual who incorporates the pod as part of their MaaS consumption in the largely white and male world of 'resource man' (Strengers 2014). And noticeably this is a white world -despite the different ethnicities present on the development teams behind the scenes -that demonstrates the racial divisions of network capital (Urry 2007;Cresswell 2010) are still present in this vision of mobility. Whether this is unstated yet deliberate decision or an unconscious push towards the likely consumers of the product is unclear yet the ambiguity of targeting 'everyone' means this is a transport solution not for families, for vulnerable people and their carers but for the professional or 'universal' (Bergman, Schwanen, and Sovacool 2017) individual with high network capital, and as an instrument to support their busy lifestyle and work.

Scaling up: visualising the technologies of CAV mobilities
At this point in the paper we begin to move away from thinking about who is being featured in these images and videos, or indeed who 'everyone' is in this public campaign for the LUTZ project. Instead we now concentrate on what is absent in these visualisations and how this underpins an alternate destination for this CAV technologies. The pod therefore is an imaginary object; while it can change shape and colour, the idea of the pod remains the same and is plugged into different scenes and environments as required by the project brief. The physical pod present in these images is a signifier of the real pod of the future, stimulating contemporary actors and funders into action (Wilkie and Michael 2009); a pod in a state of becoming that is never fully finished as observed by Zandbergen (2017) in relation to smart cities more widely. As with the lack of verbal or textual reference to Milton Keynes despite the recognisability of the location to those who live and visit the town, the physical, visible pod is therefore a generic product that can be deterritorialized from MK and reterritorialized (Hollands 2008;Halpern and Gunel 2017) to other places, times and contexts. What the pods signify then, is unstable and subject to fluctuation as it morphs from one context and technological application to the next.
The imagined absence of humans in the driverless world is further underlined by the framing of the passengers in the pod. No interviews take place with anyone sitting in the pod and no person interviewed talks about the experience of sitting in the pod as it moves.
Videos of the occupants, naturally, emphasise their lack of control of the vehicle as they hold their hands visibly off the steering wheel. Yet there are often extreme close-ups of fingers pressing buttons on computers or PC tablet screens, hands and wrists as they tighten bolts or adjust electronics emphasise the technical skills in developing the CAVs. This is also observed in Figure 1 where the ease of ordering a pod is illustrated by the hand bringing the smartphone into view as the narrator asks us to imagine the futuristic transportation 'at our fingertips' (Virtual Viewing 2014) as 'resource man' (Strengers 2014) strikes again. The videos here provide the viewer with an empowering message of control -even when the control of CAVs are entirely removed from their hands -that makes attractive the articulation of this technology as a fate rather than an option.
As discussed in the introduction, the CAV market forecast is expected to transform private, public and commercial transport systems over the next 10-20 years in the UK and have a potentially huge economic impact. There is an assumption present in these videos that values and instigates a shift from transportation as a public service provided by government to a commercial opportunity seized on by small, medium and large companies, made possible in a context of successive neoliberal British governments. Throughout the videos, there is an underlying implication of the inevitability of the technology, and therefore the need to ensure local and national economies are braced for the opportunities to come.
The video LUTZ Pathfinder -Shaping the future of autonomous transport (Transport Systems Catapult 2015) for instance, builds this sense of determinism. Opening with timelapse photography sequences of cars travelling along motorways and urban roads, leaving glowing trails from the headlamps and taillights (another visual trope used frequently in smart city visualisations). Super-imposed captions detail how many cars are on the world and the fatalities they cause. The sped-up urban landscape and volume of traffic photographed overwhelms the viewer and is accompanied by a Philip Glass-style driving minimalist piano that emphasises the momentum of the visuals. The viewer is powerless and can barely keep up with the speed of the visuals and the relentlessness of the music. A voice bluntly states 'something's got to change…' pronouncing the urgency of the situation, before continuing 'the truth is in years to come it will be much safer being in a vehicle that's controlled by a system or a computer rather than one that's controlled by a human.' This statement is unequivocal about the centrality of CAVs to the future, further reinforced by the next speaker from the ORI: '…you're going to see it [mobile autonomy] everywhere' and later the Leader of MK Council expresses similar sentiments. The narrative reflects 'corporate storytelling' of smart cities (Soderstrom, Paasche, and Klauser 2014); of an 'imagined future' (Wilkie and Michael 2009) with a singular vision of how the CAVs will enhance urban mobility. The driving momentum of the music, of the editing and of the narration that deploys aesthetic, sonic and verbal statements of a momentous inevitability of CAV futures.
The inevitability of this future is further sustained in the absence of people within the proximity of the pod. As noted above, the pod is mostly photographed on its own without human presence, and in the videos, such as LUTZ Pathfinder -Shaping… above the pod is filmed driving itself about, often with the passengers obscured from view behind the windscreen. Public participation is limited in the LUTZ world, other than providing obstacles and challenges for the pods to work around. Whilst there has been some public attitude survey work (as discussed earlier) and further consultation workshops, there are just two identified members of the public interviewed in the videos. As with visions of smart cities more widely, (Vanolo 2016), for the most part, the public are relegated to the background in shots of the CAV -resonating with Stilgoe's (2018) criticism of the privatisation of machine learning and lack of accountability in the public trialling of CAVs. MK residents are absent or generally bystanders as the videos and images imply the users to be people commuting into MK from outside the town. The visual absence of people and generic presentation of the vehicle and the place illustrates the centralisation of network capital to the investing companies which will operate the autonomous technologies and apply these in non-public, industrial contexts. A practice of visioning the future is enacted (Wilkie and Michael 2009), and underlying technology of CAVs -not people -are at the centre of this vision.

Conclusions
One of the key objectives of the LUTZ project, as stated by Centre for Connected & Autonomous Vehicles (2018) and interviewees in this study, is establishing 'public acceptance' of the CAVs -especially as they are sharing the pavements with pedestrians and cyclists in Milton Keynes. As we argued earlier, visualisations of CAVs should be understood in relation to smart cities discourse that emphasises technical solutions to urban problems. The underlying rhetoric of the videos and images is that CAVs will be a feature of future mobility and urban life, and the term 'public acceptance' rather than 'consultation' or 'attitudes', is cited by Centre for CAV above and by UK Autodrive as a key objective of the project. There is a risk here of society being 'locked' into a future by a consortium of CAV developers, government and investors (Porter et al. 2018). Yet the visualisations for the LUTZ project expose a gap between the wider public who are expected to 'accept' the pods and the user group who are likely to be the target market for such a technology. This paper has examined images of various kinds produced by the partners in the LUTZ project to explore in more detail just who is pictured as the CAV-user of the future.
The paper has demonstrated that from early in the project's visualisations there has been an underlying expectation as to who the user of the pods will be: In the original Driverless pods (Virtual Viewing 2014) video and throughout the subsequent videos, users of the pod have typically been white, professional, able-bodied and -often, although not exclusivelymale, unburdened by complications of gender, ethnicity, class, (dis)ability or familial responsibilities, echoing other studies (Bergman, Schwanen, and Sovacool 2017;Hildebrand and Sheller 2018). Urry argues that 'network capital' is a key form of capital for people in contemporary societies. This paper has demonstrated that whilst discourse around the LUTZ pods has framed the universal availability of CAVs including to those with mobility challenges, the visual cultures imagining of how these pods are to be used reveals a less inclusive idea user in mind.
The paper has also argued that the absence of bodies and specified locality is as significant in the CAV imagery as their presence. This absence and abstractness underlines the marginalisation of general publics from the discourse around driverless vehicles and smart cities more widely. As noted in discussion of Vanolo (2016) earlier, such visions produce a technology-centric city whereby the public acceptance of smart technologies is naturalised, devoid of political or civic debate or resistance. The absence of people in the images enables the CAVs to be liberated from being a solution that cures the ills of contemporary transport (pollution, safety, accessibility) to a product that can be sold globally. This aligns with smart cities discourse that corporations and technologies will provide the solutions to a set of problems that they themselves define.
CAV's monetisation potential in commercial, industrial, logistical or scientific ventures resonates with Holland's (2008) critique of the mobility of the smart city developers pitted against the spatially-fixed city. Indeed, the corporeal travel offered by the LUTZ pod is translated into a physical travel of the pod, and the Selenium software that drives it, as it is transported to new urban and industrial contexts. Should the Selenium software that 'drives' the pods be exported to other such uses, then its commercial success will have been enabled by MK Council who allowed, and the residents who shared, the public spaces in which the trials to take place. But like the photographic backdrops of Milton Keynes in the publicity images, the Council and residents' role in the development of the technology will be anonymous; the presentation of the city in the project communications as an unnamed, generic urban space suggests its potential exploitation in the future development of the technology in other cities. The mobility of capital in this instance takes advantage of, and necessitates (Hannam, Sheller, and Urry 2006;Urry 2007), the relative immobility of place and those who dwell within.
The pods are a commercial, rather than public, venture and targeted towards an affluent, profitable MaaS consumer-base rather than a socially inclusive public. The promotions considered in this study perpetuate a techno-determinist narrative with a specific classed, gendered and racialized vision, reinforce social inequalities in the distribution of network capital. This is an imaginary in which the urban mobility problems of today are solved by the data-driven technologies of tomorrow, perpetuating the neoliberal values of the smart city through its visual culture. If CAVs are to radically change urban transport in the future, then visual communications surrounding these vehicles should support the goal of social inclusion that appears elsewhere in discourse about driverless technologies; serving the public, rather than simply seeking their 'acceptance' for the technologies to be trialled on their streets.