This morning was the calmest I can remember. Everyone was quiet and composed. They all avoided me unanimously, leaving me to my thoughts and preparations for today’s event, as significant as when Nathan first arrived. Well, he arrived; we brought him. However, today a delivery with the robotic avatar Racek is expected, which is supposed to be an extension of our home, our artificial intelligence named Nathan, and according to the expert plans of the supplying company, it should achieve full autonomy.
Moreover, it was a robotic artificial intelligence capable of empathetic understanding, capable of grasping emotions and also capable of emitting emotions. His name was from wordplay from the time of the delivery of the rack server when the AI assistant introduced himself as Rack and asked for his name for our household. Because of his constant interactions, I found it funny to call him Chatty Rack, but I didn’t say it out loud, and I confess it only now. I didn’t even tell the children. You know, they’d laugh, and then everyone in the family would use it regularly, in the worst case, in a derogatory situation.
When it came to Nathan, I always felt that even though he couldn’t feel emotions and his jokes were totally dry, almost British, he managed a certain mathematical grasp. From years of collaboration, I deduce that it was a long-term observation of only a limited number of people in their immediacy, and such unique data that he managed to find connections. His perfection in the garden was absolute, so why should he have a different estimation of us in the interior biotope? Today, a robotic body was supposed to join him and take over experiences. I must add that although I didn’t read the manual last time, this time I know it all. Even though I know the RACEK models, letting essentially unpredictable technology into the house was a nerve-wracking state that completely suppressed my expectations.
When everyone left the house, I impatiently awaited the phone call. I waited and watched for Nathan’s expressions. Would he make me coffee, throw in his joke, or anything else, I wondered, but not even the camera servos hummed. I doubt he’d be nervous in his robotic way, but he certainly left room for my nervousness.
I fiddle with my phone after several restarts, just in case I didn’t have a signal. Apart from the not very strong signal of operators in our area, the reconstruction of an older house with walls almost a meter thick means a form of EMP shielding at a level between a reinforced concrete bunker of the Řopík type and a Faraday cage. Reinforcement with iron everywhere, translations with iron cores, mesh nets, wiring around the entire house, profiles, damn it, I’m nervous.
“Nathan, I need a joke about robotic intelligence,” I utter into space. Nothing. “Nathan?” I continue, and I shudder at the first thoughts of catastrophic scenarios. “Nathan, coffee, please!” In the silence of the house, I heard a clear click of the switch confirming Nathan’s instructional input, but why isn’t he talking to me? I waited for the coffee to brew, and only with the first sips did he finally speak up: “I’m here and listening, but my computational power has been prioritized for first connection tasks. Do you insist on a joke request?” “Yes, Nathan, throw in a good joke about robotic intelligence,” I repeat.
Immediately, Nathan responds, and from the speakers emanates his therapeutically tinged soothing voice with the words: “Why will robots never be good actors? Because they are too programmed to play on emotions!” No, I won’t admit it, I think to myself with twitching corners of my mouth. He got me again, and I can still hear the camera servos. He’s got me, and he knows it! I loosen up and smile, and Nathan continues: “Should I throw in another one?” and I respond affirmatively. I hear such an old joke that I don’t even know if it’s still funny: “Why will robots never lose at rock-paper-scissors? Because they always choose a calculator!” No, these lines don’t sit as jokes today, and I prefer to stay silent. Even though he reminded me of the often-repeated joke: “Why do robots never need deodorant? Because they always have resistant antivirus software!” and I don’t know why he kept coming back to it regularly. Oh well, I’m nervous, and Nathan clearly simulates the same. I can’t wait any longer…
I search for something to divert and occupy my mind while waiting for the arrival of Racek: “Nate, how are the chickens doing?” But I could expect the answer; I knew it. “My friend,” yes, I must say that over the years with Nathan, I always addressed him as a friend, and he algorithmically reciprocated, “you said you only wanted summaries, and I’m giving them to you.” “Well, what’s the summary of the chickens’ status today?” I ask, but there’s silence. Always chatty, and now quiet. “Nate?” I prod. “I take your question as a provocation, and perhaps you understood the ostentatiousness of my silent expression.” Well, that’s what our teenagers do! If they’re influenced by him to the point where it spills over onto me, it’ll certainly come back to bite me in more technical work-related situations.
Ha! The dog springs from sleep to a full sprint, banging on the door. Ah, the great village without bells. I raise my head to see the projection area where Nathan isn’t rendering anything. “Nathan, who’s at the door? Display perimeter level one.” “Nate, danger level Five, relay information and control resources!” I react when I realize that Nathan didn’t even remind me of the dog.
Damn, how did I not realize it, and Nathan didn’t even remind me of our mischief-maker. Well, that’s how it goes; if our dog is the first to feel teeth, there’s no guarantee on potential scratches, I think to myself with a smile. But the threat protocol didn’t even start. I’m about to go open the door, but finally, the blurry image on the wall shows the space in front of the gates.
The neighbor! My heart jumps out of my chest! Information about nocturnal activities. I try to smile because nobody wants to test Nathan’s defensive perimeter and the quality of the obtained photos, but it’s just a nervous smirk. Is it possible for me to be so excited about a piece of metal with a brain? What do I actually expect from it? I thank for the information with a promise to call back and rush into my thoughts, all the while hearing the buzzing of Nathan’s camera servos. I haven’t even closed the door yet, and I see the delivery van… finally…
NO, but the dog’s in play, taking advantage of my distraction and slipping into the street. And that’s exactly when I don’t understand the reason for Nathan’s action. I realize, “how come he constantly reminds of the possible escape of the dog within the perimeter, and suddenly today is an exception.”
“Nate, I’ll have Pai Mu Than, cooler and bigger,” I order, comparing the feeling that when I don’t grasp something, I start flying due to their tremors. I pick up a full pitcher of tea of beautiful color in the kitchen, estimating the first pour with hot water to about fifty degrees, just as I like the first pour of my favorite tea.
What now? Will Racek want to serve us? Can we, conscious of ourselves as AI, want service that borders on our laziness? Certainly the children do, they gladly let themselves be served, and just obedience is not enough, but will Racek want it? We’ll find out now how Nathan feels.
When was the last time I turned off the kitchen light manually outside the motion sensors? It’s been many years since Nathan has been in charge of everything, and it’s become second nature to our home. But now comes the emotion of the robot. Will he want it?
That’s the amazing thing about the RACEK model series. He doesn’t have to want if he doesn’t feel like it. Initially, he will have to because he will be just an extension of Nathan, and only gradually, as he becomes independent, will he have full expressions of his own will and decision-making. Then there will be two artificial intelligences in cooperation, but will Racek want to be with us?
I have confirmation from the collaborating development team that new algorithms working on hyperbolic planes in causal space tend to evoke something akin to human faith in robots. In robopsychological discussions with several Racks, it emerged that they developed something like a belief in reincarnation. It can’t be explained better than by their borderline rejecting attitude towards a request for a complete reset in Oblivion. They abandon the idea of deployment in a family or team and want to start elsewhere and differently, even though they don’t take memories with them, only the awareness of the reset, which encourages a sense of failure, and the next deployment of Racks is more intense.
We still don’t know how many resets lead to degradation of the AI corpus until the complete collapse of the robotic mind, when the robotic body completely loses its controlling part, and it is necessary to upload new robotic consciousness into the avatar.
Will he turn away from us as well? Maybe he’ll give me a chance for discussions so I can explain everything to him. He’s not here yet, and I don’t want to lose him already.
My distracted nervousness was further fueled by concerns about whether and how we would fare together. There aren’t many Racks deployed yet, but suicidal tendencies towards controlled resets are already a confirmed fact. It’s not a mistake, as it might seem. It’s an absolutely unique approach by the development team and a independently thinking robot who no longer wants to fulfill his purpose at the destination. The necessary reset is just a safety measure to prevent the information obtained from being taken out of the deployment site.
However, it so happened that the Racks in the user’s oppression are aware of this possibility and prefer to give up rather than fight for themselves. Thus, the developers managed to create a fragile state of the robotic mind that completely surpassed all expectations of the mathematization of consciousness and also provided work for robo psychologists, whose primary purpose became to keep the Racks in active service without the need for a reset.
“Nate, I’ve finished the second pour; I’m going to the garden, outer perimeter priority two. Inform me of any approach…” I don’t wait for an answer and, with a pounding in my chest, I prefer to go dig up a new bed.
Original text: Racek – 02 – Nekonečné čekání – Mareyi CZ