I got beat up by a Robot last night.
Not literally, but mugged from behind by some form of artificial intelligence (and I use the term loosely) sweeping the internet in search of “clones” and “spam”. This defective detective decided, perhaps through the nefarious use of a souped-up “Keyword” that someone posing as me had plagiarized a horoscope or 2 that only I could have - or would have - written and had surreptitiously planted the fakes on the always upstanding, pristine planet it watched over (aka BIG HUMONGOUS website).
From the robot’s point of view, in deleting my work, it was just doing its job: cleansing the site of any refuse from “cloned” pieces or any remnants of what we used to call in the writing biz, “dribble.”
From my point of view: HELP!
The stupid bot electronically (or otherwise) ERASED the product of hours and hours of my very own blood, sweat and tears without so much as a beep or a swish. Gone forever, in a nano-sec(ond) were my detailed descriptions of the inner workings of the complex and individual aspects of Aries/Scorpio/Taurus hearts. The list of my remaining article titles stared at me blankly from that site; the list cut in half like a lady in a Magic Show. With no restore buttons to push to return my articles to life, my work was doomed -Â consigned forever to the great wire trash basket in the sky.
The absolute, total injustice of it all.
In a mass-email, the offending web site acknowledged removing my work, but left me no space for defense or complaint. The anonymous writer of the bad-news email noted that my (fill-in-the-blank number of) articles had been deleted for one of any number of reasons, including wrong-doing, pollution and/or crappy writing. I could direct any reply I might have about this turn of events to the series of numbers at the top of the email (xode323520xut) I had a moment that could only be described as disbelief, followed immediately by a moment I can only describe as Epiphany.
It went something like this.Who are we kidding? The Robots are in charge.
I should have known. I’m a psychic. But the robot take-over completely flew over my head. I should have first realized it was already afoot when Twitter’s Fail Whale kept bobbing up and down on my screen like a cardboard game piece at an amusement park - or at the very least, even earlier, when Google became a noun. And a verb.
Yes, I am clairvoyant. But, No, I do not understand algorithms. Some part of my extra-sensory mind has been asleep at the wheel.
No longer. I am now fully awake and I can predict the future.
It is very very cold and metallic. It begins with an “R” and ends with a “T” and has “OBO” in the middle.
Get ready to speak monotone and wear an eyeshade.
Which leads me back here to where I will explain the title. I used to love ROBOTS. I collected them - in fact, I own dozens of old metal,tin,plastic (made in Japan) robots. Some of my robots even wind-up and spark. Are you jealous?. Decades ago, I realized Science Fiction would peak again and Robots would become even more desirable and collectible than ever. So I began to collect them at thrift stores, garage sales, going-out-of-business toy store sales - wherever I found them. I collected only the positive, gentle, nice robots (which is totally in character, I assure you). In the beginning, my collection represented the icons known. in the Mid-Century, as Good Robots.
Good Robots. Thanks to Isaac Asimov, writing sci fi in the 1940s, there are three rules governing the behavior of all robots.
- A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
- A robot must obey orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
- A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.
Of course, I would now like to suggest a 4th rule that has something to do with robots patrolling websites looking for clones, but that is not to be. One has to hope that the Rule of Robot Law still rules in the Land of Robots - or wherever robots function (”exist” is clearly stretching it).
Despite my Robot despair, there is positive news to report on the good robot front: a huge leap forward in the production of complex robotic arms and hands; creation of robots that can climb stairs; robotic cars that drive themselves through traffic, robot warrior soldiers, and so on. I think also of the “brave” robots sent in by police to dismantle bombs (ahhh) and those aiding and assisting doctors in the most difficult micro-surgeries. These good robots are helping us move forward. They are aiding and assisting humankind. If only, that were true of all Robots, because there also are a number of unsavory, scary, spine-tingling (while we still have spines) robots. These are the Bad Robots.
Bad Robots. They wear the black helmets. Robots who seem to have minds of their own. Robots hell-bent on destruction. Robots sent from somewhere else to wreak havoc. Cyber-hacking robots from far-off places who will do anything for a (key)stroke. They have fictional names like Mechagodzilla, T-1000 and Cut Man. The worst of them don’t even have names; that’s how bad they are. But for some reason, these menacing bad boys are always painted black and feature red glowing eyes with a mine-shaft deep synthetic voice that sounds like it once voiced-over a Master Card commercial. They are out there, all right, and because they are robots and their stomachs don’t growl, (because they don’t have stomachs), they can sit there silently waiting for just the right moment to turn off the Grid. And then they will go wild.
There is no telling what Robots Gone Wild can do. Especially if they don’t mind being videotaped while they do it.
My robot predictions: As Internet traffic grows, the use of robots (machines) will grow right alongside it. Fewer and fewer humans will play a meaningful role in managing or overseeing websites (except to read their stats and count their revenues). This is not the best news for those of us who work and play and buy and sell via computer. We can still respond humanely to any small piece of the web we “own” or control, but in the broader world, the human component in Internet technology shrinks by the sec (ond).
If you have a problem or a complaint with a Mega site, prepare yourself for a canned response, a scripted reply, a mass email. Even now, it is close to impossible to field a complaint to a human being in any position of responsibility. There is no Step #2 in any complaint process since that could involve discussion, debate or discourse. All is automatic script designed to end things at Step #1.
Likewise, no more Man in the Grey Flannel Suit or Our Miss Brooks.
In the future, the term “Machine Age” will take on an entirely new meaning: robot/machines grow more human-like and we become more robotic. In time, robots accomplish most everything we, humans, can do. Computers ease this transition.
How do I really feel? Disturbed. Because I still remember a time when a hardcover book was a treasure (and not a kindle); when playing hide-and-seek meant running around outside and climbing trees; when socializing was defined as sitting across the table from good friends and having a cocktail or two while bemoaning the uneasy state of the world (some things never change).
But some times, things change enormously.
Sadly, I fear our children are learning to make do with less and less human interaction. More and more of their time now is spent at the computer, communicating- or tapping hand-helds, gazing at flat screens the way we once gazed at one other. Some children go to school via the computer - removing themselves even further from the real-life lessons learned in the classroom and the playground. Many children are glued (stuck) to their computers, super-glued to their monitors, wandering in and out of virtual chat rooms, games, websites that vicariously follow supposedly real people. You can see how themuch time these children spend on their computers by the pallor of their faces and the dullness in their eyes.
There is no poetry in this motion.
We, the adults, seem satisfied this is progress. We twitter our time away, and launch more and more sites, hoping to find THE Internet Xanadu (allowing us to strike it rich, Klondike-style with a winning Internet formula). Our children observe and absorb how we sanction and approve of this lifestyle and these goals; many of them introduced to computers, as toddlers. Some parents just can’t wait to teach their babies to compute.
We are our children’s role-models and we are leading the way to the Machine Age.
For the robots, this can only be good.
4.15.09
