JARVIS's virtual display covered an entire wall, densely packed with simulation data, infrastructure models, and cost estimates that scrolled and refreshed at a frantic pace.
Tony rested his fingertips against his chin, staring fixedly at the final conclusion as his expression grew darker and darker.
Countless plans had been run through the simulations, and the results were dismal across the board.
A purely electromagnetic levitation system would require two or three rounds of upgrades to the country's entire road infrastructure, with magnetic tracks laid along every route. Even under ideal conditions, it would take twenty or thirty years to get the first stage off the ground. In reality, materials, labor, and policy would cause holdups at every turn, doubling the time required. It might not become widespread even in half a century.
The jet-propelled levitation plan was even more absurd. Its energy consumption was staggering, and it would wreak havoc on road surfaces, tearing up every road a vehicle traveled on. It had no civilian value whatsoever, just a flashy showpiece with no practical use.
Every viable path was blocked.
Tony slumped into his personal engineering chair and let out a long, dispirited sigh. At last, he fully understood the helplessness his father, Howard Stark, had felt back then.
It wasn't that the concept was wrong, or that the technology was inadequate.
The technological foundations and infrastructure of the entire era simply couldn't support a design so far ahead of its time.
Decades ago, Howard had been trapped by his era, leaving behind the bitter regret of an unfinished hovercar.
Was he going to follow the same path now? Would he pass the Stark Family's long-cherished dream of a hovercar on to the next generation and leave it for his own child to complete?
The thought of carrying his father's