Today, I ask all of us future users of robotics — are we robot-literate? Perhaps firstly and less ridiculously, do robots even concern us? When was the last time you read or saw anything related to that subject? It could have been an article you read in the press, it could have been a start-up event you attended, you could have heard about it in the context of politics and war drones , or you might be an engineer receiving newsletters on global efforts in improving robotic performance.
However detached we might feel from the specialized fields of robotics, and however light-hearted we might feel towards the simple pleasures of a good old sci-fi flick, the mundane future user of robotics should be included in the overall debate already now. I mean it. I could justify this argument with my own bitter deprecation of each of aforementioned communication fora. Media have a penchant for sensationalising topics. Finally, I could remind you how quick the political debate may shift towards cold war terminology, when we speculate the omnipotent AI, as an answer to all of our structural shortcomings.
Yes, I could play that grumpy old man card, but I would rather hand the microphone over to more respectable voice of prof. In her own bid for a self-reflexive approach to technology, Turkle eloquently explains how we not only act differently due to social media, but how we become different all together, as people. From social media to social robotics, from cyber space to virtual reality headsets, the path ahead really is not stretched that far, nor is it winding.
The fact remains, personal tech, be it assistant robots, wearable AI, or unicorn drones will ultimately transform us as people, and thus as social actors. I believe the trick lies in realizing that we as future users are not as incapable as we might think. After all, we have our robot-literacy. What do I mean by that? I am alluding to the discourse we are all a part of.
As viewers of art, film, and topical fora, we engage with said discourse more or less of our own volition and to the point of critique. As voters, media audiences, and sector evangelists, we might subscribe to more mass-scaled needs, and so perhaps be a little less savvy when it comes to building a robot-specific rhetoric.
Point being, we all chip in with ideas and images that construct a larger frame of mind which robots also are a part of. Surely, an actual political vote on the issue of robotics counts more than a movie screening though? Surely, no argument there.
From that standpoint, a movie screening is as valid a point of entry as a political vote. For the sake of clarity, there is a difference between an idea of a robot made into a leitmotif to be used in fictional plot, and that of a subliminal mass understanding of what robots stand for as a part of our lives.
However, the 20th century was quick to show us how the two influence each other Isaac Asimov, wink wink, nudge nudge. Earlier this year, I experimented with a comic strip medium as a potential self-reflection tool for engaging with agendas surrounding robotics.
I distributed an unfinished comic strip among my informants, containing several filled-in frames such as a lush forest, a big city, a wallet, and a bonfire with figures gathered around it. The task was simple — think of any robot you wish, in any shape, form and purpose you wish, it can be an existing robot, or an imagined one, go nuts — just make sure that this story connects into a linear narrative. Unsurprisingly, the results were reminiscent of all too known movie narratives.
Robots that spoke to me from the comic strip frames slotted in with an archetype of a benevolent helper, who wanders through the forest, finds a wallet and tries to return it to the figures by the bonfire.
They were often science or service-driven, often lone and misunderstood, or mistreated. However, they all sought purpose, and through that, bliss of belonging. What does it say about us? We are armed with intrinsic mutual agreement on how to represent robots in the story. In other words, we domesticate known leitmotifs into ready archetypes i. Yet, the leitmotif finds its way out of the script and into a body of modern products.
On one hand, Disneyesque robots, ready for sale, reflect the cute little helpers we expect to command one day i. On the other, sexually perfect bots are on their way to revolutionize the sex industry, seemingly starting from Japan i. Better still, bio-inspired robots learn how to evolve and conceive of themselves with advanced algorithms, soon to be mimicking organic life around us see i.
What we know and see, we imbue the robots with. Rightly so, dr. She makes that point especially clear in her social campaign against sex robots www. Thus, sex robots hold a threat of amplifying the corrupt drive for treating sex as subject to commodity, ownership, and further wealth-based divides. If only that alone resulted in creating more truly lonely people, what would those artificially perfect interactions with robots cause?
Do current pop-culture narratives facilitate a move in that direction? Quite possibly. In what ways might we utilize existing stories to serve us more sensibly?
Fiction to me, especially on-screen, is a perfectly valid piece of speculative design. We unfold a scenario containing assumptions and try to make it work in a logical way. There are limitations to it, naturally. But we can also really relate to what we see, finding excuses and justifications for why we agree on individual aspects of it.
Engaging in such speculations is one interesting way into using pop-culture narratives for our own benefit. Yet, the concept of AI seeking self-sufficiency on solar power out in the desert, gaining safety from distant governments. Leaders who are shaping the future of business in creative ways.
New workplaces, new food sources, new medicine--even an entirely new economic system. The hip-hop stars of the moment are the Y. But who are these budding superstars? The program was created six years ago by an AmeriCorps vet named Alicia Johnson, herself a North Minneapolis native, who volunteered at the Y as a way to put off going to law school.
Evans, received a grant of top-notch studio equipment from Best Buy, and set about teaching her kids how to make music. Beats and Rhymes serves students from kindergarten to eighth grade, and they write all their own material. Listen to it again: Yeah.
Someone under the age of 15 made that. It helps that I grew up here. You can go to college. This piece is part of Change Generation, our series on young, change-making entrepreneurs.
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