NYTimes | Years ago I
spoke with a 16-year-old girl who was considering the idea of having a
computer companion in the future, and she described the upside to me.
It’s not that the robot she’d imagined, a vastly more sophisticated
Siri, was so inspiring. It’s that she’d already found people to be so
disappointing. And now, for the first time, she explained me, people
have options. Back then I thought her comments seemed prescient. Now I find them timely.
“There
are people who have tried to make friends, but stumbled so badly that
they’ve given up,” she said. “So when they hear this idea of robots as
companions, well … it’s not like a robot has the mind to walk away or
leave you or anything like that.”
This
girl had grown up in the time of Siri, a conversational object
presented as an empathy machine — a thing that could understand her. And
so it seemed natural to her that other machines would expand the range
of conversation. But there is something she may have been too young to
understand — or, like a lot of us — prone to forget when we talk to
machines. These robots can perform
empathy in a conversation about your friend, your mother, your child or
your lover, but they have no experience of any of these relationships.
Machines have not known the arc of a human life. They feel nothing of
the human loss or love we describe to them. Their conversations about
life occupy the realm of the as-if.
Yet through our interactions with these machines, we seem to ignore this
fact; we act as though the emotional ties we form with them will be
reciprocal, and real, as though there is a right kind of emotional tie
that can be formed with objects that have no emotions at all.
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