Ah, the swinging 60s, a time when we dreamt of conquering the moon and almost obliterated the planet. Back then, technological innovations were the offspring of a fierce East vs. West – or was it the other way round? – rivalry, a race where Earth itself teetered on the edge of oblivion. Lucky us, we survived, and civilization limps on.
I recall one fateful Christmas in the late ’60s when I unwrapped a tin toy robot. Sure, I already knew that Santa Claus was just Dad in disguise. That robot was a gift I couldn’t resist dismantling that very night. Gone were its mechanical noises, its garbled speech, and its habit of careening into obstacles like a tipsy partygoer. Alas, the poor robot succumbed to the second law of thermodynamics, hastened by my curious hands.
Oddly enough, I felt no remorse. Instead, I reveled in discovering that the robot was nothing more than metal and plastic. It gave me a glimpse into its inner workings, just before it became an unsalvageable pile of parts destined for the rubbish bin. Not the most sustainable gift, I admit, but it probably played a part in fueling my interest in computers and AI.
Fast forward to the early ’90s, where, despite studying bioengineering and environmental technology (whatever that means), I found myself knee-deep in the world of IT. My gig involved creating a fully automated car inspection system for Kuwait, which promptly ground to a halt thanks to a bit of political misinterpretation. Meanwhile, my daily grind left me with plenty of free time to delve into AI, starting with the likes of Leibniz and Descartes. At my time of studies the buzzwords were Expert Systems and Cybernetics.
Interestingly, in the 1960ies money flowed into the field of AI, just as it does for “gain of function” research today. But then, disillusionment hit, and funding dried up in the mid-’70s. It wasn’t until the early ’90s that science made real strides, and the cash started flowing again. Money only follows the scent of profit. C’est la vie.
As a bioengineer, I’ve always had my reservations about what AI truly is. I can’t help but wonder if Descartes led us down a rabbit hole. Are there clear lines between body and mind, or is cognition intrinsically tied to our physical selves? Could there be a global consciousness lurking somewhere?
It appears that the robots of yore are now getting their revenge. The evolution of these mechanical marvels has been nothing short of astounding. They’ve infiltrated car factories, mastered the art of cake decoration, and even wandered the floors of restaurants and supermarkets. They’re everywhere now, and their evolution seems to be on fast forward.
In my daily interactions, I still prefer good old NS over AI. Especially when AI seems clueless about the value it’s supposed to generate. Take those supermarket shelf-wandering robots, for instance. As a customer, I’m left scratching my head. What value do they bring to me? Yet, from the store’s perspective, they’re marketing gold. They’re eye-catching, a novel spectacle that draws attention—a clever marketing ploy, indeed. There’s another sneaky “value” lurking here: gradual acclimatization. Get folks used to robots in the store, so when the time comes, they can replace humans without causing a massive uproar.
But here’s the kicker: I recently had a standoff with one of these seemingly useless robots. We converged on a narrow aisle from opposite ends, and the robot ground to a halt right in front of me. In its smooth, robotic voice, it uttered, “The route is blocked. Could you please make way for me.” You mean, make way for you, Mr. Robot? And that full stop at the end, turning it from a question into a command. Well, at least it didn’t end with an exclamation mark.
Of course, I didn’t budge. Care to guess what happened next?
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