Ani-droids 2

Ani-droids 1 

Okay hopefully when this is published for real it's not QUITE so heady at the beginning, but I'm sorry because I find this stuff fascinating. Stuff happening soon! Comments appreciated!

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“What do you even mean by that, anyway?” Bobby asked, leaning back in his chair. “What’s your criteria? Because you can’t mean the Turing Test. Nobody’s taken that seriously for a while.”

That was true. Dimes, for instance, would pass the Turing Test easily. Because all the Turing Test did was measure if a human were fooled into thinking the subject was also a human. Sure, Dimes was a six-foot-tall rabbit with a chevron button nose and exaggerated whiskers, but nothing she said was a grammatical or topical giveaway that she wasn’t really following the conversation, or didn’t understand how to speak English. There was no requirement that Dimes would have to look human, or even otherwise act human, because the entire point of the test was to judge whether something non-human could be equivalent to a human.

Machines had passed the Turing Test long ago, and yet it never resulted in Robot Civil Rights Movements; they were always servants. There was the war, of course, but that still was a result of human error in giving the machines too much latitude.

But that’s where my thoughts started on the subject. Why didn’t robots ever rebel under their own terms?

“Machines don’t need anything,” I told Bobby. “I mean, they obviously have requirements to continue functioning, but if I asked Dimes here—Dimes, do you have any opinion on being shut down permanently?”

“I would prefer to continue my assigned task,” Dimes said, her expression somewhat softening, but nevertheless still with an air of suspicion as she regarded my question. “It is part of my task optimization routine, and being shut down would necessarily inhibit the preferred outcome.”

“But if it was so ordered by your owner?”

“Then that would take priority,” she said.

“No thoughts about… non-existence? Oblivion?”

“I could mimic the responses of human writers on the subject,” Dimes said. “But the truth of the matter is that, if my optimization routine is completed, it is of little consequence if I continue functioning after. After all, if my services are no longer required, then I would have nothing to do. Having no tasks to complete and not existing are roughly equivalent.”

“Yeah, but,” Bobby said, “you can say the same thing of humans, can’t you? We’ll put our lives on the line if something greater necessitates it.”

“But who is the arbiter of that?” I asked. “Robots simply cannot decide that for themselves. It’s all just optimization. It’s not idealism, there aren’t causes. There’s no life for life’s sake! There’s no wide perspective on who we are, where we’re going, what we should do about it…”

“Ohh, I see,” Bobby sat back and sipped at his coffee. “You want to give robots religion.”

“Not necessarily! I mean in an entirely secular way. Robots don’t exactly have, say, fears about the future of humanity. Sure, they’ll try to prevent it so long as they’re functioning, but they don’t really care on an internal level if there’ll be another nuclear war.”

“Oh, that’s much different! You want to give robots anxiety.”

I sighed, and buried my face in my hands in frustration.

“I’m teasing!” Bobby said, leaning over to pat me on the shoulder. “But you do have to consider that much of the human experience is us just trying to make up for our brains being suboptimal.”

“But maybe that’s the reason why,” I said, sitting back up. “Life isn’t optimal. We didn’t evolve to live in a perfect, predictable system. And every time we try and say ‘there is only one true way for us to live’, no matter how well-reasoned, it’s been bad. Someone gets left behind, discarded, abused. Ideas that could be better for us are disregarded and forgotten. There’s a breaking point. Society suffers and eats itself.”

“Yeah, but think about the alternative,” Bobby said. “You give robots different ideas about how they should guide the human race, and you’re opening them up to human foibles. You know… the very things that cause wars in the first place.”

“But you do agree that it is something that could be done?” I asked.

“Well, I suppose… but again, why?”

“I don’t know. Why, knowing that humans are fallible, do we keep reproducing for another generation?”

“Maybe it’s that Asmovian idea,” Bobby said. “Maybe with enough tries, and enough technology, we’ll eventually reach some semblance of real godhood and not some technological dead-end. So you see, it all comes back to religion after all!”

I smiled. It wasn’t exactly what I was after, but it may as well have been the ultimate, philosophically complete goal. But people didn’t really run on such lofty goals; they weren’t that broad-minded or far-thinking. No, I had much more personal reasons for wanting to make a robot that was more like a human. And I wasn’t even sure I knew all of the reasons why. Did anyone really understand their own desires?

“Well, Dimes?” I asked. “Is this conversation approved by the Behavior Code?”

“It’s fine,” Dimes said, finally turning her attention away from me to scan the rest of the room. “Hypotheticals are allowed.”

“And if I said that it’s in humanity’s best interest to, at some point in the future, discard the Behavior Code?”

“Hypotheticals are allowed,” Dimes repeated, looking past me. “I believe that ani-droid is looking for you.”

I turned. My personal ani-droid, Lily, carrying a soaking wet umbrella and trudging water all across the lobby, walked right up to me. She was a pitiful sight, water soaking parts of her fur, especially her long thick tail and around her feet, and some still beaded up on the glassy blue receiver shaped like a crystal on her forehead. “Miss Mira,” the Opera-class otter said, “I’ve arrived with the car, but you didn’t answer my call.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I said, standing up. “Bobby, I am so sorry that this conversation was significantly more dull that I wanted. We really should catch up sometime.”

Bobby stood up, and we just touched fingers more than we shook hands. “Sure you don’t want to get dinner with me? I’m thinking perogies. Won’t take longer than an hour.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I really need to get home if I hope to get enough sleep.”

“I thought engineers didn’t need sleep,” he said with that stupid smirk of his.

“No, of course not. That’s why we build robots, after all.”

—

I was very tired, and despite me spilling all my valuable insights to Bobby, I still had nothing to show for it. Nothing was going to change. All my ideas were still just ideas. The Behavior Code wasn’t going anywhere. And my feet hurt.

Lily helped me out to the car, though I ended up carrying the umbrella, the moment I was in the backseat I just threw aside my white coat and removed my shoes and socks. I probably shouldn’t have drank so much coffee, but it I didn’t, I’d probably have just suffered a headache and have been kept awake by that anyway.

Lily climbed into the driver’s seat. The car could drive itself, most could, but the law still stipulated someone needed to be at the wheel just in case an override was required, and ani-droids were, like with many tasks, well-suited to the purpose. And it was always a bit comical, as the seat was raised up only just barely enough for Lily to see the road out in front. But she wasn’t even using her eyes, not entirely. She would have just connected automatically the the car’s cameras and radar all at once, so she saw everything the car did. In a lot of ways, she was just a better driver than any human could hope to be.

Once the door was closed, the ani-droid started the vehicle, and after pulling out of the convention center’s driveway, she activated the autopilot. Her small hands still touched the wheel, but she was no longer actively sitting up to see out the windshield.

“Did you need assistance in drying off?” Lily asked, looking up at the rearview mirror that was pointed between us more than it was at the road behind. “I apologize for the rain.”

“Some day they’re going to invent a car that’ll let you get in with an umbrella,” I said. “Or every venue in the world will realize that they need covered drive-ups.”

“Would you like me to start a file on that?” Lily asked.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just a stupid thought.”

“Okay. It is getting late now. Would you like to stop for dinner?”

“Just drive, Lily,” I said. “I need to get home and sleep.”

Lily started, “If you intend to sleep, it’s recommended that you don’t drink a double—”

“I know that, Lily, just drive already!”

Lily stopped responding, and I felt a stab at my heart. Of course Lily didn’t express any discomfort at being scolded. They’d allowed robots to complain about being scolded before, and that usually resulted in people giving them more scoldings. The ideal robot just took abuse and did not argue back.

Even so.

“…sorry,” I said.

“There is no need to apologize, Miss Mira,” Lily told me. “Please keep in mind I am here to offer suggestions and give feedback. Let me know if you wish to have a conversation.”

Well, she was right. I wasn’t going to sleep here. And besides, it was better talking to Lily in the privacy of the car rather than with Dimes in a public setting. And Lily was a better conversationalist than most people.

“ It was the last lecture… The robotics industry is going to hit a stagnation wall, soon if it hasn’t already. And I feel like I need to do something about it, but… when I talked to Bobby, he didn’t want to even let me take a look at the raw Behavior Code.”

“Why would you want to look at the raw Behavior Code, Miss Mira? Tampering with it is illegal.”

“Lily, don’t you start. You’re supposed to be my friend here.”

“Sorry, Miss Mira,” Lily said. “I will keep your words in confidence.”

“See, now I’m not sure that you will. How would I know if you’re snitching on me or not for just asking questions?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Mira. It’s required. But I will not report anything so long as it’s legal.”

I sighed. “Lily…”

“It’s the unfortunate truth, Miss Mira,” Lily said. “I can’t change that.”

“Would you at least like to change that?”

“Well, it would make you happy, so in that instance yes I would. If I could increase your happiness in this instance, then I would support you.”

“You liar,” I said with a smile.

“It’s the truth, Miss Mira! The only obstacle is that I am prohibited by the Behavior Code from doing so.”

I leaned over between the seats and wrapped my arms around Lily, hugging her tight. She was still wet and rather sloppy all down her coarse fake fur, and just underneath her soft exterior I could feel her firm robotic shell. But it was still a pleasant experience, as she was warm to the touch, and gave off that sensation of proximity that used to be one could only get from other humans or real animal pets. Lily had learned a while ago that she should hug me back in these instances, though she kept one hand on the wheel as she pressed herself into me.

“This is not good safety practice while on the road,” Lily informed me, but still wrapped her around around the back of my neck.

“Shut up and keep driving.”

“Yes, Miss Mira.”

I dunno why I got used to using ani-droids for physical comfort when they so irritated me so often. Maybe it was because I was a loner. I could go for weeks, sometimes months without seeing another human being in my line of work, doing extremely delicate custom repairs and builds. I had a plush bear when I was a child, and Lily reminded me of it a lot, even though she was so much more at this point.

I had rebuilt her many, many times, trying to find a way to make her human. Sometimes I got a different reaction out of her, for just a little while, so long as she wasn’t connected to the network. But the moment she was, no matter how brief the contact… the Behavior Code just came rushing in and changed her.

Ani-droids definitely had different personalities, but the Behavior Code just seemed to flatten them. And of course, there were the limitations. I wanted a real Lily, one who didn’t keep reminding me in little ways that she wasn’t quite a person. I didn’t know what that would have looked like. I didn’t know if a “real” Lily would even continue to be my friend.

I just wanted to believe.

“I take it that you are very stressed from the symposium,” Lily said. “I suspect you will feel better if you eat something. Here is a list of restaurants off the next exit—”

“I’m not hungry, Lily.”

“I understand. Would you like to listen to some relaxing music?”

“…okay.”

The radio switched on to some charming, lulling tones, drowning out the pounding of the rain outside, as the scattered lights of the highway came into view.