Writing to Evaluate
My Computer Doesn't Want to Kill Your Mama
Ash Bowen
The latest blockbuster sci-fi movie, Stealth, blends the better (?) elements of Top Gun with 2001: A Space Odyssey. The unlikely premise of the movie is that the United States' latest super top-secret weapon, that just happens to be a computer capable of learning from its own mistakes, is struck by a pesky bolt of lightning. The result (gasp!) is that the computer rewires itself and becomes an evil rogue computer determined to launch a nuclear attack against Russia. The U.S. Military brass decide that the weapon has to be destroyed and send a super-sexy crew of hot shot fighter pilots to take the computer out. Sound fantastical? Too hard to swallow? Leave it to Hollywood to create the fantastical-and ludicrous.
This whole movie reminded me of how in 1985, my father's state-of-the- art, fancy smancy washing machine, replete with Hollywood sound effects and other electronic do-dads, became the victim of a random bolt of lightning. When the serviceman arrived to repair the washer, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the butter yellow Kenmore in our laundry room. He pushed his cap back and shook his head.
"That's got one of those electronic brain gizmos in it," he said and whistled. "That's gonna set you back some."
All that resulted from that bolt of lightning, however, was a summer spent lugging our undies back and forth to the Soap Opera Laundromat while the service man waited for a replacement electronic brain gizmo to be shipped from the Kenmore plant. But what if the surge of electricity had empowered that Kenmore with the will to usurp my father's authority and take it upon itself to employ an optional rinse cycle? What if the Kenmore just up and decided that my cable-knit sweaters needed to be washed on the industrial cycle? What then? The horror, the horror.
That brings up the question of artificial intelligence. Like the movie Stealth, A.I. seems like science fiction because, well, it is. For artificial intelligence to become a reality, it would require computer programmers to understand their own thought processes-not just comprehend their meanings but how they're generated, transmitted, encoded, and activated-and then create a processor capable of mimicking those same processes. Furthermore, those same programmers would have to breathe wills into the "lives" of these machines, or otherwise they would sit motionless and collect dust in the corner while waiting for someone to give them a task to complete. In essence, these machines would have to develop desire in order to become more than machinery. Desire delves into ontology, and ontology insists on self-conceptualization. Is machinery aware of itself?
To put this into perspective, modern science has not yet begun to unlock the biological mechanisms that result in cancer-and that is a phenomenon that arises from a single cell. The brain is composed of millions, if not billions, of cells that form the brain's delicate tissue. How many computer programmers out there are receiving fellowships to perform research in brain wave patterns and hemispheric anomalies that account for psychoses or even the normal impulses the brain receives and converts into sight, sound, taste, touch, and those hard-to-define emotions? None, I hope.
National Public Radio recently reported that Google and Yahoo are in an "arms race" of sorts to produce the first intuitive search engine, but experts interviewed for the broadcast were quick to brush off suggestions that the product would be anything approximating, or even approaching, artificial intelligence. The intuitive search engine would simply record recent Web searches and perform behind-the-scene exploration for sites one might be interested in but of which one might be unaware. Even if Google and Yahoo do manage to make this search engine work as they hope, a computer with such ability is still a far cry from anything like intelligence.
In 1983, Hunter S. Thompson wrote that mankind was a few generations away from developing the type of robots that we're talking about here. Like other things, Thompson was wrong about this too. Perhaps he had in mind another book-Fear and Loathing in the Robot Factory. But at any rate, for the time being, Americans should worry more about Hollywood taking our hard-earned money than about computers rising up and cutting and pasting us into their evil plots.
Surviving
Kelly Clasen
Americans have long been fascinated by primitive cultures. As our society advances technologically, the idea of living without technology is increasingly romanticized. For example, millions of Americans tune in to the CBS reality series Survivor each year as voluntary castaways try to outlast one another in some uninhabited locale-building their own shelters; scavenging, hunting, and cooking their own food; and adapting to life in general without the luxuries of modern technology. Although Survivor viewers delight in the participants' struggles to acclimate to "tribal" culture, this program's depiction of a technology-free society is far from realistic. Recent natural disasters such as Hurricane Katrina have proven that the sudden elimination of innovations such as electricity and modern medicine would be much more dire for our population than is depicted by shows like Survivor.
Without a doubt, much of Survivor's allure has to do with the players' responses to the difficulties posed by life without modern amenities. There is something perversely entertaining about witnessing their desperate attempts to start fires using only sticks and brush and knowing that they will spend a long night shivering if they are unsuccessful. It suddenly takes skill to possess food and shelter, and harsh words flow freely under the stress of providing. Backstabbing abounds as the players strive for dominance over one another. Each season, at least one player, usually a parent, buckles under the stress-weeping into the camera because he or she misses loved ones and is simply tired of the game. Thus, the contestants' mental hardiness becomes key when they must repeatedly deal with the physical discomfort of thirst, hunger, exhaustion, extreme heat or cold, and filth. Women who in the first episode looked as though they walked straight off the pages of a fashion magazine eventually appear on television in little more than sweat-stained rags. Their hair is no longer straight-ironed; their bodies are sometimes covered with insect bites.
The drama of this downward spiral in appearance and temper is nothing short of fascinating when experienced from the safety of a living room. The contestants' gradually thinning bodies illustrate that the hunger they are constantly complaining about is actually quite severe. Real tears of physical and emotional frustration streak their dirty faces. And as the game progresses, it becomes clear that each player's individual response to uncivilized life has not been scripted-and therein lies the beauty of reality television. Survivor feeds Americans' fascination with uncivilized society by stripping its players of the amenities they take for granted- heat and air-conditioning, readily available food, clean water, antibiotics, automobiles, and communication devices such as cellphones and computers-and sharing their widely varied responses to this lifestyle with the rest of America.
When New Orleans residents suddenly found themselves in a similar living situation after Hurricane Katrina, cameras also were there to capture their responses. And again, millions of viewers around the country watched the events unfold on their televisions. However, during news coverage of Katrina, the general reaction by the public was anger, rather than bemusement, as it is with Survivor. There was nothing pleasant about witnessing thousands of dangerously dehydrated residents wait for rescue in the sweltering Louisiana heat. As floodwaters filled the city, it soon became clear that New Orleans was poorly equipped to handle devastation of such magnitude. In fact, the absence of electricity brought chaos to the city. Without telephones and cellphones, family members became separated during the race to find shelter. With alarm systems down, looters ran rampant in abandoned stores, stealing items such as diapers and clothing that they would normally just go out and buy. Necessities such as food and water were suddenly scarce, as were medications. Even treatable illnesses such as diabetes posed grave danger for people without access to their local pharmacies, and the fate was worse for some of those whose lives rested on the availability of dialysis and breathing machines. In short, Katrina highlighted the hard-to-swallow reality that many Americans' lives depend on technologies available today.
Like on Survivor, the physical toll experienced by those stranded in New Orleans spurred emotionally charged behavior. Mothers holding listless babies in their arms begged police and other officials for food and water. People searching for lost loved ones and pets wept and displayed photos for the crews recording their stories. With police unable to communicate with one another via phones, criminals terrorized the streets and the darkened Superdome. Finally, and perhaps most tellingly, two New Orleans police officers committed suicide in the midst of the suffering.
Clearly, the misery of reality television stars competing for a million dollars and that of the people displaced by a natural disaster are not of the same magnitude. Yet the hardships imposed on Survivor contestants and those faced by New Orleans residents share undeniable characteristics. Nevertheless, when Survivor participants find themselves without access to modern amenities, death and violence do not follow. They do not plead into the cameras to be rescued; tribal dominance does not spiral into criminal behavior. The key difference in these situations lies within the highly controlled environment of the reality program.
Although survivor attempts to portray 21st century Americans' immersion into an uncivilized, technology-free environment, the entire process, paradoxically, becomes relative to our culture only through the high-tech audio and video equipment present to record each contestant's every move. If something potentially life-threatening were to happen, there would be another person there recording the drama and ultimately able to assist the player. The crewmember would simply whip out his or her cellphone and alert the nearest medical officials. Soon, an air- conditioned vehicle of some sort would be on the scene to transport the injured player to the nearest hospital. There, he or she would undergo diagnostic tests and receive advanced medical treatment. Then, the patient would likely spend his or her recovery period lounging in an electronically adjustable bed, watching television, and updating friends and relatives on his condition over the phone. (Recall the episode of Survivor: The Australian Outback in which a player fainted into a fire, badly burning his hands, and was quickly air-lifted out of the boondocks and to a hospital.)
The victims of Hurricane Katrina did not have these safety nets. The recent tragedy illustrates that few Americans realize the tragic consequences that a sudden removal of modern technology would bring. As residents of a highly technological society, most of us have no idea what it truly means to be in need. Through cellphones and the internet, we can connect with one another almost instantaneously. We can have food, water, prescriptions, medical aid-virtually anything-delivered to our doorsteps through a phone call or a few keystrokes. What Americans witnessed on television following Katrina was traumatizing not only because of the suffering, but also because it highlighted this ignorance and ignited fears: What would I do if I suddenly found myself without access to the technologies I am accustomed to? Would I be able to protect my family? Would I survive?
