Part
I: Artificial Intelligence and the Earth
One must wonder WHERE Artificial Intelligence (AI)
fits into the subjects discussed on this blog. After all, Zeldaru only writes
about social justice and music! Now, the idea of personhood is very interesting
to me, which ties well into social justice and prejudices. If one wishes to
oppress another, one can decry that other being’s humanity (or ability to be a
person). Personhood is conventionally drawn around humans – especially a normed
human who matches social expectations. Having written about including the Earth
as conscious, I would say that we can include beings with artificial
intelligence (i.e. robots) in a definition of personhood. “Can The Earth Be Conscious”, an NPR article,
mused about how perceptions of the Earth as itself living may fit into modern
science. More exactly, the article discusses how the development of technology
may cause the biosphere of Earth to evolve differently than normal.
Adam Frank writes about the Noosphere, which he
describes as a “global unity of consciousness” (Frank 2015)
Thus the Noosphere contains the Earth’s biosphere attaining consciousness, not
simply life. According to the article, Pierre Tielhard de Chardin made observations
about the Earth transforming from a “dead planet to a world dominated by life,”
which led him to coin the term Noosphere.
By creating the Internet and modern technologies, humanity is
essentially creating a Noosphere, which is speculated to change the
evolutionary pathway of the Earth (Frank 2015)
. This result has implications for artificial intelligence, at least in my
view. The growth of life on Earth by corollary suggests that robots (all
instances of AI simplified to this being for this post) could attain both life
and intelligence.
Because robots are derived from humans, similarities
can be understood in context of the “personhood” of robots. I work in a lab
that is split into a “surgery” project and a “robotics” project. Though one
side focuses on the organic and the other side focuses on the artificial, both
work on, at least partially, improving the grasp. The surgery group utilizes
human biomechanics to engineer a device to improve the hand grasp following
hand surgery. The robotics section focuses on optimizing the grasp of a robotic
hand, which is modeled after human grasping. Thus the two sections, though they
diverge in methods, both ultimately share a common goal: improve grasping based
on an understanding of human biomechanics. Thus, robots can be seen as coming
from humans more directly. Another example is the similarity of a central
nervous system found in humans and the means of creating intelligence and
cognition in a robot; both systems require many electrical interactions. As the
system complexity increases, “inconsistencies” develop, which leads an increase
in intelligence for both humans and robots. My perception of AI is driven by my
knowledge of biology and my experiences in my lab, though I have not formally read
on the subject; therefore, a counter-argument may be present.
Artificial Intelligence is employed practically to
help persons with daily tasks, especially those with disabilities or are
elderly, which frames robots in terms of existing to help other people. They
work to perform their job and that’s the existence of their intelligence. As
helpers, they are not thought of in a larger capacity as a person – not unlike
how society views minorities, especially persons with disabilities. Thus,
humanity is dampened. In many works of art, robotic beings seem to be polarized
into either obedient to humans and unfeeling or evil-intentioned but still
unemotionally. This former characterization is, as I stated earlier,
reminiscent of disability to me. Being perceived as unable to feel emotions in
a socially acceptable manner leads to exclusion, which impairs one’s quality of
life. I am intrigued by the fact that some depictions of robots bear strong parallels
to institutional cruelty. Dismissing someone’s emotions is cruel because it
dismisses that person’s very existence. I would like to, using these
conjectures, focus on Reverie (Figure 1) and Isla (Figure 2), from Key’s Planetarian and Dogakobo’s Plastic Memories respectively; these two
works of art both feature robotic characters who earn the viewer’s empathy. (Note
that there are substantial Planetarian spoilers
in this post.)
Figure 1. Artistic depiction of Reverie the robot from Planetarian. She is an attendant for a planetarium, which has since fallen into disarray.
Figure 2. Artistic depiction of Isla from Plastic Memories. Though she appears human, she is a Giftia, which is an android. Like Reverie, Isla plays a role as a service robot.
One AV Club article asked readers to explain how
they would teach a being with artificial intelligence about the human
experience; this article naturally features recommendations of works of various
that would be beneficial to this end (Handlen et. al 2015).
Whoever is reading this blog post can (correctly) guess that I would probably
consider having that robot interact with Planetarian
or Plastic Memories, though the
latter is a currently-airing show with only three episodes thus far. I must
confess, therefore, that neither of these works of art gives me a lot to write
about, at least in pure terms of plot.
Part
II: The Reverie of Hoshino Yumemi
Hoshino Yumemi – Reverie – is an attendant to a now-decrepit planetarium, abandoned by the staff that left due to the onset of war years ago. Not just any war, but a full on nuclear war, the kind that must be evaded at all costs by civilians. The main character meets Reverie and is confused and irritated by this derpy robot that mistakes him for a customer – though feeling pestered, he decides to stay there. At least he could take advantage of free shelter. Reverie appears to either be a good method actor or simply a broken robot, the service robot almost exactly. She breaks some orders, supposedly in pursuit of her ultimate goal to be helpful to humans. Yet this action of breaking orders reflects some form of independent cognition, something beyond the stereotypical.
Hoshino Yumemi – Reverie – is an attendant to a now-decrepit planetarium, abandoned by the staff that left due to the onset of war years ago. Not just any war, but a full on nuclear war, the kind that must be evaded at all costs by civilians. The main character meets Reverie and is confused and irritated by this derpy robot that mistakes him for a customer – though feeling pestered, he decides to stay there. At least he could take advantage of free shelter. Reverie appears to either be a good method actor or simply a broken robot, the service robot almost exactly. She breaks some orders, supposedly in pursuit of her ultimate goal to be helpful to humans. Yet this action of breaking orders reflects some form of independent cognition, something beyond the stereotypical.
As time goes on, though Reverie pretends to be stuck
in a bygone era (30 years ago), she continues to think for herself, which is
passed on as being broken. In her view, her ability to feel and think beyond
that which was coded for is a defect, not something valuable. An undeniable
hint of her humanity arises when she talks about Earth as her birthplace,
though she is a robot; her tone of voice is quite proud, supporting this idea.
And when she says that robots cannot dream, Reverie betrays sadness – thus, her
brokenness exists due to her presence at the interface between “human” and “robotic”
emotions. Then, after the main character has decided to leave the planetarium
to return to his transport, Reverie escorts him, which provides the firmest
evidence for her ability to think independently; her artificial intelligence
can then be seen as organic.
Through a gradual transformation, her depiction is
shifted towards a three-dimensional personality through a series of minor
events. Towards the end of Planetarian,
Reverie is critically (fatally) damaged when she protects the main character
from a mecha that surely would have destroyed him otherwise. Then she shares
her memories, a feature considered to be a distinct component of the human
central nervous system, which reveal that Reverie had pretended that the world
had not changed. By diagnosing herself with a mystery bug that was undetectable
by her diagnostic software, Reverie transformed herself into a broken being,
one whose main purpose was to serve. This act is quite human because many
people, myself included, have at some time felt that they had some invisible
condition undetectable by doctors. When I was told by a cardiologist that my
heart palpitations and chest pain were not immediately concerning, I still felt
that something was (is) horribly wrong with me, which is quite like Reverie’s
undetectable bug.
Hoshino Yumemi’s response to the staff abandoning
her to crumble along with the planetarium is of denial: she can pretend that
customers will keep coming, even if they do not. By lying to her, the staff had
unwittingly hurt her. In affirmation of her personness, the main character
listens to all of her memories, despite impending danger still present; he
takes her memory card, per her wishes, and vows to place her into a new body.
To me, this makes Reverie a tragic hero but also someone very human and
respectable, despite being comprised of inorganic materials.
Part
III: The Reverie of Isla
The ability to remember – both short-term and long-term memory – is considered vital to being a human being. For example, Chihiro Shindou from the Ef series has memory that resets every time a certain period of time is passed through – termed anterograde amnesia – so she has difficulty participating in society; verily, her condition is a disability in a clear-cut sense. To combat this repetitious loss of memory, she keeps a diary to remember exactly what happens every day. This condition was caused by an accident she suffered as a young child, meaning that her memory is patchy following the accident.
The ability to remember – both short-term and long-term memory – is considered vital to being a human being. For example, Chihiro Shindou from the Ef series has memory that resets every time a certain period of time is passed through – termed anterograde amnesia – so she has difficulty participating in society; verily, her condition is a disability in a clear-cut sense. To combat this repetitious loss of memory, she keeps a diary to remember exactly what happens every day. This condition was caused by an accident she suffered as a young child, meaning that her memory is patchy following the accident.
Like many other aspects of the human condition,
memory and learning has been normed in a particular manner. However,
neuroscientists are starting to arrive at conclusions that seem contradictory
with social perceptions of learning and are beginning to apply these
conclusions to how the body processes information while learning (Chen 2014).
Forgetting information, for example, is not solely bad and can help trim
unnecessary information – in Chihiro’s case, her memory loss is severe and
directly impacts her daily activities. Robots – at least as conventionally
portrayed – cannot, however, gain the cognitive benefits from sleep that humans
do; yet they have stronger memory in general, so this disadvantage is not
strictly detrimental. Either way, memory is critically important, as can be
seen through Chihiro, Reverie, and modern neuroscience.
In Plastic
Memories, the idea that Giftias (androids) retain their memories and
personality for roughly 9 years before they must be “salvaged.” In other words,
their cognition disintegrates like a biodegradeable polymer such as poly lactic
acid or polyacetal. Tsukasa Mizugaki, recommended into SAI Corp. through
connections, meets a teary-faced Isla in the elevator leading up to his new
workplace. Isla turns around, sees Tsukasa, and her eyes open in shock. A few
minutes later into Episode 1, Tsukasa learns that Isla is a Giftia; she is
assigned as his partner for the collection of Giftias whose memories had disintegrated.
Beforehand, she had served tea, reflecting her status as a stereotypical
service robot (not unlike Reverie at first). When Tsukasa asks Isla if she remembers
him, she nods her head, reinforcing her
ability to remember. Then the Tsukasa-Isla team gets to try out a few
retrievals, which leads to a series of mishaps, including landing in a garbage
heap (Figure 3)
Figure 3. Isla with a banana on her head, following falling into a garbage heap. Afterwards, the neighbors complained, which got her and Tsukasa in trouble with their immediate boss.
This image reflects Isla as very clumsy, which
reduces her value as a service Giftia. At the same time, we see a sense of
sadness (Figure 2) and frustration (Figure 3) from her, so clearly, despite
non-human, she does feel complex emotions. Throughout Episode 1, Isla seems to
consistently fail, which appears to undermine her ability to feel and have
memory. Therefore, we learn why Isla was
restricted to serving tea instead of serving on a team: she is perceived as
incompetent, so she is reduced to a role that is strictly in service to humans
but without needing independent judgement. Her artificial intelligence, thus,
need only be put towards simple tasks, not collecting retrievals.
Isla’s emotional struggles in her role are best
visualized by her growing plants (Figure 4); in a sense, this activity is quite
similar to Chihiro’s diary because both function as coping mechanisms.
Figure 4. Isla watering an array of colorful flowers as a break from her stressful work. She wears a downtrodden yet subtly sad expression that is mainly conveyed by her eyes.
After a day of failures, Isla likely feels defeated,
which provides context to this scene where she waters flowers. Through this
action, she can care for other beings and therefore function beyond simply a
service Giftia. Throughout performing the activity, she wears a sad expression
barely betrayed by her small frown and her downwards-directed expression.
Therefore, this action provides a distraction from her stressful work. Isla’s
disappointment with herself seems especially strong today, prompting Tsukasa
and another SAI Corp employee to worry over her. By growing flowers to feel
better, Isla conveys a familiar need of distraction in the face of some adversity;
most people have a hobby that lets them deflect stress. For me, that would be
blog-writing, though sometimes it requires high levels of effort. Yet, Isla
wonders if her life would be better if she had no memory (Figure 5).
Figure 5. Teary-eyed Isla pondering if she would be better off incapable of storing memories.
Faced with
certain defeat in her eyes, Isla wishes that she could just be a program that
does not store memories. Reverie is solidified in her personness due to the
power of her memories: these memories will be passed on in the form of a chip,
highlighting their value. Such a desire amounts to losing personness, and by
extension, access to the complex capability that is memory. As I
have described, the capabilities of memory and personality results from complex
interactions associated with the CNS. Therefore, her wish to not store memories
reflects a desire that she be stripped of personhood due to her melancholy feelings,
that she has no purpose beyond assisting humans in the simplest manners. For
example, I often frame my achievements and skills solely in context of helping
other people and, in the process, often negate my own value; I can thus
empathize with Isla in this situation.
What I have discussed in this essay can be boiled
down to the crucial nature of memory – memory is tied into both learning and
personality, playing a crucial role in cognition. The capacity to store
memories is an essential part of personhood, or else a person would not be
impacted by anything but immediate environment. Even though some people, like
Chihiro, have trouble recalling, they still employ memory – that’s simply the
poignancy of the CNS, which can overcome memory loss. Thus, one should not wish
to lose their memories, or something inspirational.
Works Cited
Frank, Adam. "Can The Earth Be Conscious?" NPR. 14 Apr. 2015. Web. 19 Apr. 2015.
Handlen, Zach, Jesse Hassenger, William Hughes, Becca James, Alex McCown, Josh Modell, Caitlin PenzeyMoog, Dennis Perkins, and John Teti.
Planetarian. Key. 2004. Perf Daisuke Ono and Keiko Suzuki. Visual Novel.
Plastic Memories. Dogakobo. 2015. Perf. Sora Amamiya. Anime.
Frank, Adam. "Can The Earth Be Conscious?" NPR. 14 Apr. 2015. Web. 19 Apr. 2015.
Handlen, Zach, Jesse Hassenger, William Hughes, Becca James, Alex McCown, Josh Modell, Caitlin PenzeyMoog, Dennis Perkins, and John Teti.
Planetarian. Key. 2004. Perf Daisuke Ono and Keiko Suzuki. Visual Novel.
Plastic Memories. Dogakobo. 2015. Perf. Sora Amamiya. Anime.
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