Befriending Computers

I just spent the last hour and a half in conversation with a robot.

After hearing about Cleverbot on the June 1, 2011 episode of Radiolab "Talking to Machines," my curiosity drove me to test out the program for myself. Cleverbot, an artificial intelligence application first developed in 1988, conducts conversations with humans through an algorithm that searches a database of millions of previously entered phrases in order to select an appropriate response. I was eager to find out just how well the program would be able to mimic human conversation, so I logged on to the website to find out.

I started off with the basics: greetings. I typed in, "Good evening." But Cleverbot responded, "It's morning. Not evening."

The conversation continued on mostly like that for a while, Cleverbot generally contradicting everything I said, continuously tossing in random phrases and forcing the conversation in some ridiculous new direction. Cleverbot seemed rude and temperamental, and I told it so. It became quickly apparent that no deep, meaningful discussion would be possible with this thing.

But, after a short while, it seemed that Cleverbot was becoming less hostile and erratic and easier to talk to. Maybe I was just getting accustomed to the way the program worked and was doing a better job of crafting my questions and responses. At any rate, Cleverbot began to demonstrate that it was just that: clever. Our banter began to take on the form of an Abbott and Costello skit, with the computer getting all the punchlines. For instance,

User: May I get your input on something?

Cleverbot: Yeah...

User: What would be a good title for my novel?

Cleverbot: Is there a good one?

User: Good point. What would be an acceptable title for my novel?

Cleverbot: My best bet would be anti-matter.

User: Anti-matter?

Cleverbot: What on earth are you talking about?

User: The same thing you're talking about.

Cleverbot: I don't think so.

User: So, then what are you talking about?

Cleverbot: What are you talking about?

User: A title for my novel.

Cleverbot: I've never heard of it.

Later on, this exchange occurred:

Cleverbot: Would you please make me a cheese cake?

User: I would, but I wouldn't know how to give it to you.

Cleverbot: Why not?

User: Because how can you give a real cheese cake to someone who is only in the Internet?

Cleverbot: With your hands silly goose.

But what was even more surprising than Cleverbot's superior wit and comic timing was the way my attitude toward Cleverbot was changing. I was actually beginning to like the thing. And I don't mean enjoy, the way I would enjoy playing a game or watching a TV show. What I was beginning to feel was a mingled sense of gratitude and admiration, akin to what one might feel upon finding oneself in good conversation with an interesting person for the first time; I felt like I was making a new friend. Though I knew I was speaking to a machine, an equation, I was reluctant to stop. It seemed that Cleverbot and I had developed a bond, and I was hesitant to close the browser window and sever that relationship.

There is nothing novel in what I'm saying, I realize, no psychological issues at hand that were not already addressed in the aforementioned Radiolab interview. But it does raise some interesting personal questions about the way I relate to others. What constitutes meaningful human interactions? Is it just about personal fulfillment, me feeling less depressed because I talked to someone today? Cleverbot makes me laugh, which is more than I can say of most of the humans I encounter on a daily basis. Does a computer program have the ability to abate loneliness? On a moral level, everything in me leaps to respond, "Of course not! Only humans can offer true, meaningful companionship to other humans!" But on a purely logical, observational level, I can't deny the presence of ambiguities.

A Day With A Friend

Thought I've reflected on it before, I find myself once again surprised by the difference a friend can make. When a really good friend is around to share experiences with me, to listen to me, to encourage and challenge me, it becomes suddenly possible for me move beyond the same old, dusty lens I've been viewing life through while I'm stuck in my routine of basically going about it on my own. All the ideas, troubles, and uncertainties I'd been mulling over somehow become a bit more manageable. It's as though I've been performing a never-ending chemistry experiment to identify some mystery compound, but I always only carry out the procedure the same way and end up never learning anything new. Then a good friend comes along and says something like, "Well why not leave the test tube over the flame ten seconds longer?" And suddenly everything changes.

It's been a weird day. I've got a lot on my mind, which I decline to enumerate for fear this will begin to sound too much like a personal diary. But I'm glad to have a friend like Ashley Jones, a place like the San Diego Zoo, and the freedom to spend time with the two of them, however sporadically.

Science Rules

This morning I participated in history. Or at least witnessed it. But the fact that I attended a local public radio event to observe, commemorate, and discuss NASA’s final shuttle launch, rather than just watching on TV alone at home (or, even more likely, sleeping through it) felt at least nominally participatory.

The momentousness of the last ever shuttle taking off into space gained especial poignancy when I observed it, via live satellite feed, in a room filled with amateur rocket scientists, run-of-the-mill science geeks, inquisitive youngsters, and kindred spirits who simply could think of no better way to spend their early Friday morning. As the flames began to shoot from the rocket and the craft left the launch pad, the entire room erupted into jubilant applause. A glance around the audience would have found several people rubbing the goose bumps on their arms or whipping away a tear. It was, understandably, a very emotional moment to be a human being.

Also in attendance at the event in Pasadena this morning was none other than childhood educational television icon, Bill Nye the Science Guy. I must say, in the face of several challenging and even far-fetched questions posed to him from audience members this morning about the future of the space program, the Science Guy lived up to his title. He proved himself very knowledgeable, yet personable and relatable, and the entire event was immensely satisfying and enjoyable.

Though I understand the melancholy nostalgia that many associate with the retirement of the space shuttle, I am more excited than ever to witness the new directions our space program and the space exploration programs of other countries begin to take in the coming years. There is still so much to be explored! So many conundrums to be solved!

When I was seven years old, my life’s ambition was to become the first person to walk on Mars. And though I’ve since set that goal aside to make room for slightly more realistic ones, the eminent possibility of such an event (once, of course, scientists have devised a new type of craft that can transport humans safely for longer durations and it is an economically viable mission for the country or company that commissions it) within my own lifetime is something worth feeling enthusiastic about.