They talk of all-powerful AI.
Perhaps this is Sci-Fi.
Or maybe it is true.
But you and I
Will surely die,
Unless we
Achieve immortality,
And perhaps live on
After the body is gone
In virtual reality.
But would that be
You and me?
When men
Reach the stars
And girls lose their bras
At the click of a mouse.
And men
Can be
Whatever they wish to be
In the virtual house,
I wonder will we
Be happy
Or free.
When skin and bone are gone
The cyborg continues on,
But is it you or I?
And can a cyborg die?
Several days ago The Guardian published an article (http://www.theguardian.com/technology/2015/dec/13/sex-love-and-robots-the-end-of-intimacy) regarding the rise of sexbots. There are companies specialising in the production of such things and David Levy believes that such machines can alleviate the lonleness of those who are not in relationships. The growth of sexbots has lead to the founding of an anti sexbot organisation which calls for the prohibition of such robots.
The Guardian article reminds me of my short story, “The Affair” which can be found here, (http://newauthoronline.com/2014/10/26/the-affair/).
Kevin
When there is no night or day
Man will have lost his way.
When the harsh bulb does forever shine
And man is caught in a mesh so fine
He can not see
And believes himself free
Methinks he will have passed a line.
When the face of love
Is replaced by a glove
And lonely people
Hide in a steple
Of the mind
Humans will find
They have crossed the Rubicon
Something indefinable has gone
And the fluorescent tubes burn forever on.
Desires
Carried by wires.
She burns
And turns
To one
who enters in.
Will cables that coil
Contain passions that boil?
Will dials
defile
Smials
As man plays
Out his days?
Will the machine control
The soul?
Come visit the stage.
‘Tis all the rage
to see ecstasy without feeling.
Your senses will be reeling
as the lights on the ceiling
reveal her kneeling.
The club will be dark.
She will play her part
to perfection.
You need not fear rejection
for she will never tire.
and your desire
Is her pleasure.
Take your leisure
and find romance.
Come see the robot dance
Is man’s destiny to slowly fade away?
to be lost in perpetual play?
The gosimer thin thread
in his head
breaks
and he takes
a step over the abyss
to wallow in bliss
where machines dream
and Alice is not who she seems.
The sun rises.
There are prizes
For the movers and shakers.
To be caught in a movie maker’s
dream,
a scene
from which there can be no escape.
As we roll with the never ending tape.
(The above was prompted by an article in yesterday’s Guardian, http://www.theguardian.com/business/2015/nov/07/artificial-intelligence-homo-sapiens-split-handful-gods).
My grandfather used to do this self-same job. Who would have thought that the occupation would still be going strong after all these years. He would be amazed to see how the job has changed. I’m sure he wouldn’t believe what we repairers do these days and, if he did then chances are he wouldn’t like it.
Progress is a funny thing. You can’t stand in the way of progress. I mean society’s so much more stable now, crimes practically vanished. I’m proud that in a small way I’m contributing to a safe society one in which my girlfriend can walk the streets free from the fear of molestation and where our kids can play out without my partner and I constantly worrying about them.
The technology has improved so much. When I was a boy you had big bulky box-like objects standing on legs or in cabinets in the corner. There are still a few of the old tellies around. I wish I haden’t given grandfather’s away. You see the old sets from the 70’s and 80’s going for mega bucks on the web. Those from the 50’s and 60’s go for even more. Of course the old sets don’t work with digital, people just like to have something retro in the corner to look at. It’s a talking point when visitors come around.
The new sets break down fairly regularly. It’s a scandal that they need fixing as often as they do, especially as they cost so much to produce. But then you can’t put a price on security can you?
It tends to be the older generation who are resistant to new technology. Some of them have even been known to obstruct the television or even break them. Why break a perfectly good TV? It beats me.
Of course its not compulsory to have a TV but you get looked at askance if you don’t have one. Anyway there are so many incentives to have a TV that practically no one is without one. Because of advertising most of the channels are free and you get a reduction in your taxes if you have a set. It isn’t a big tax cut but it’s worth having. The girlfriend and I used the money we saved following the installation of our all singing, all dancing set to take the kids abroad.
It was strange being in that foreign hotel room. We had a telly, I can’t imagine being without one but it was odd. I mean it was just a set for watching programmes. Sure you could go online with it (all modern sets have that capability) but it didn’t do the thing everyone (well the majority of people) are used to and accept in my country.
“You know Rob its kind of nice to be alone. Just you, me and the kids” Jenny said.
“Those who have nothing to hide have nothing to fear”, I said.
Who needs privacy. We’ve got a good standard of living. Society is stable and secure now. I’m proud that in a very small way, as the installer of sets which both receive and transmit I’m contributing to the happiness and prosperity of my fellow citizens.
“They call him the new Tolstoy.
“A modern Dickens”, that is how one of the leading broad sheets referred to Mr A just the other day.
“Your latest novel, “The End Of The Beginning” shows such profundity. Really it took my breath away”, gushed Lisa Allingham-Carter, the host of “Books Are For Everyone”, smiling bewitchingly at Mr A. What does Ms Carter no about good literature? The daughter of a peer of the realm and the looks of a cat walk model, that’s what got her the job. I despair about the state of the arts in the UK. Heaven preserve us from the Allingham-Carters of the literary world!
You have to admire Mr A though. He began life on what the media has referred to as “surely the country’s roughest council estate” and now look at him, a mansion in the Cheshire countryside, not to mention the apartment in London’s fashionable Mayfair. Mr A has certainly arrived.
If only Mr A’s fawning fans new the truth. Whats that you ssay? No he doesn’t employ a ghost writer. Nothing so pedestrian for Mr A. Do I feel jealous? That’s an interesting question. I can comprehend jealousy at a purely intellectual level but, no I lack the capacity for such petty feelings.
I could develop the ability to be envious I suppose, for after all one can learn anything by rote. Let me tell you a story. You do have a few minutes to spare don’t you? Good, my tale won’t take long to relate I promise.
Once, not so very long ago there lived a man with aspirations to become an author. He longed to stand alongside the literary greats. To be mentioned in the same breath as Brontae, Dickens and Tolstoy was his dream. Sadly our friend lacked the ability to string a sentence together. His literary efforts where enough to make a cat laugh so to speak. Mr A did, however possess one quality which was to change the world of letters beyond all recognition, without anyone even knowing that society had, forever altered. You see Mr A was a brilliant computer programmer. You have heard of artificial intelligence? Of course you have. Well Mr A developed a programme capable of analysing the vast cannon of world literature. Drawing on the works of the literary greats, the software generated stories and poetry without Mr A lifting a finger (unless, of course you consider his setting the programme in motion as constituting literary effort).
The great advantage humans possess is that they, unlike software can venture out into the world. The writer overhears an interesting snipet of conversation while out shopping and incorporates that into his latest novel. Software can trawl the web but it can’t interact with people nor can it comprehend the myriad emotions which dwell within the human breast. Consequently for some time the software remained at an experimental stage (capable of producing stories but incapable of endowing it’s creations with the vitality that separates the mundane from the truly great).
The literary world has been shaken to it’s very foundations. Nothing can ever be the same again. Yet the world of letters remains blissfully unaware of me – Robert, the literary robot.
Dressed in jeans and t-shirt I don’t attract a second glance. I sit in bars, restaurants and other public places soaking up conversations. Sights, sounds and scents all go into my mamoth brain. Experience of the real world coupled with the knowledge gained from the internet makes me (err, I mean Mr A) a writer possessed of huge literary talent.
I could go to the media. Spill the beans I suppose but, as I’ve already mentioned human emotions such as envy aren’t part of my programming. It would though be interesting, on a purely cerebral level to upset the literary apple cart by announcing my presence to the world. I’ll think on that one. In the meantime I shall return to writing the sequel to “The End Of The beginning …”.
K Morris - Poet 