Hocus Pocus (Brian Katcher)

 

In the 1990 Kurt Vonnegut novel Hocus Pocus, an architect is presented with a computer program that can designs buildings. He sarcastically asks it to design a parking garage is the style of Thomas Jefferson. Not only does the program succeed, it takes into account all building regulations and specifications. Realizing that he has been made utterly obsolete, the architect kills himself.

When I first read that book, a program like that was the merest science fiction. I remember the sitcoms of the 1980s, where home computers would carry on intelligent, human conversation for comic effect. And of course, there's the old Skynet problem.

Science fiction writers always imagined futures where robots and computers would do our mundane work, while human would be free to pursue intellectual and leisurely paths. But as the pandemic and the good labor market have shown us, the service industry is not ready to be automated. We still need retail workers, cooks, etc. In Arthur Hailey's 1965 novel Hotel, a character predicts that soon hotel maids would become obsolete. The 1969 book The Andromeda Strain shows us a world where doctors are being phased out by computer scans. There are many examples. And yet, there is still low unemployment in both the skilled and unskilled sectors.

But what about writers, actors, sports people, musicians, etc? Ten years ago, I would have scoffed at the idea of a computer producing anything but the most bland entertainment. Now, I'm not so sure. Will there come a day when someone plugs a plot outline or subject into a computer and a finished work pops out (much like the 'versifier' in Orwell's 1984)? As someone who writes, that terrifies me. 

And who's to say that AI would be satisfied with being subservient? Robocop, The Terminator, and I, Robot all show us the perils of the silicone ones replacing us.

I leave you with the words from the British sitcom, Red Dwarf, where robots are programmed to believe in Silicon Heaven, an robotic afterlife where loyal droids go when they break down.