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✄ Artificial Intelligence = Artificial Love? [P; L, V]

Postby Atoli01 » 08/08/2016 2:20 AM

ImageImage

Dolce Schofield | Edmund Sinclair
#EF8032 | #9B3D17

For a once orphaned eighteen year old model to be captivating the attention of this scientific conference's hundreds of attendees as naturally as Beethoven's fingers would dance across the keys of the piano was undoubtedly a miracle, but the girl in question, Dolce Schofield, would sooner label it a glitch.

"Experts have gathered no conclusive evidence to this date that suggests that AI is inherently evil. If in the wrong hands it can be abused, yes, but is that not the case with every single person sitting in audience, and every single object in each home and on the street? Is there even one of you here, listening to me speak, who is capable of no evil? I'll answer that for you skeptics out there: no."

Would an evil being willingly take in an orphaned war child, with no benefit to his own self? Would he feed her, clothe her, offer her a roof and the tender love of a father? It was this man, Alastair Schofield, who made the clock long broken in Dolce's heart tick once more. For twelve years now, he had offered her the world, and her, standing on this stage now... She had seized each and every one of those opportunities.

"Our society is not the same as it was a hundred years ago. It's not the same as it was fifty years ago, even ten years ago. Can someone tell me what place the principles established by our ancestors have in today's ever-changing world? I ask each of you now... is it appropriate for a being capable of emotion, of feeling, of coherent human thought, to be subject to discrimination and labor more strenuous than the slaves of centuries past?"

"That has been model Dolce Shofield, on the battle for AI rights. Everyone please give her a hand!" And so the applause began.

"I ask that you continue advocating for AI rights outside the walls of this conference," Dolce announced. "I thank you all for your time and attention, and remind everyone to hold their questions until the end of the conference. Whether born from womb or lab, remember that we are all kin on this earth. Have a beautiful day!"

The applause roared as she stepped away from the microphone. "And next we'd like to welcome..." she could hear the announcer begin as she stepped backstage. Despite her earlier warning, she was assaulted with a barrage of reporters and journalists as soon as she crossed that threshold, throwing all sorts of comments and questions at her.

"You're pretty young to be speaking. What makes you an authority on AI?"
"What are your thoughts about that killer android on the loose?"
"Why don't we see sentient androids more often?"
"Do you think it's unethical to subject non-intelligent robots and androids to manual labor?"
"What are your thoughts on The Humanity Front and Senator John Palowski's recent arrest for his alleged connections to the group?"
"Considering the recent string of attacks on pro-android activists, do you fear you may be targeted next?"

"Sorry everyone, you'll have to wait until our Q&A at the end of the conference!" With the help of two guards, Dolce shoved her way through the excited gaggle of reporters. She glanced back at the group after she passed, and saw them once more jotting down notes on their notepads as they watched the next speech on the TV screens backstage. The speaker was a petite brunette, male, couldn't have been much older than her judging by his looks, but his speech was that of a seasoned scientist. How odd.

It was Edmund Sinclair (Eddy, as she liked to call him) who drew Dolce's attention away from the screen. Eddy was a tall man with a delicate frame; he managed to have an intimidating look about him, but it was the sort of intimidation that you knew was hiding a soft-hearted man. He was one of the nation's best doctors, and fell somewhere between being Dolce's second dad and her older brother. "You did good out there, kid. You're well on your way to becoming the face of the pro-AI movement. The fact that you were able to speak here today is making your dad proud, I'm sure," he told her, and shoved a water bottle in her hands. "Drink up."

Eddy always knew what she needed after a long afternoon, but he could only make time out of his schedule to accompany her on important days like this one. He was always on call, so if something came up, he'd have to leave her in the midst of all this hullabaloo. At least that wasn't as much of a concern now that she was old enough to take public transportation, if need be. Dolce twisted the cap off the water battle with a crack, and downed half the bottle in one go. She was speaking for nearly twenty minutes, and that twenty minutes was enough to leave her throat dry and her voice hoarse. "Thanks, Eddy," she said.

"Now that'll be 10 KS, please," Edmund replied, a smirk spreading across his lips. Dolce feigned shock. "No way, that's way too expensive, you old man!" Her modeling career would be moot without that sweet nectar of life! Just imagine all those breakouts!

"In all seriousness though, Dolce, you are becoming big. I heard through the grapevine that you were requested by a Dr. Delacroix. By name, no less! If I recall correctly, he works with one of the largest android development labs in the nation. It makes sense that he'd be here."

Mention of the man set her heart aflutter. Had she finally gained some sort of tangible reputation in the community? Had her work finally paid off, in the way she had been hoping?


A beautiful moon shines above again tonight,
And it sheds light happily over the world.
As for me, I'm just worthless, good for nothing,
Dreaming at daybreak, creeping at dawn.

Still I'll scream into the sky, hoping that somebody will find me.
I want to run, but there's no way out--
No bright future in sight.
But I still fly up like a butterfly, hoping that you'll find me.
A crescent moon, ugly children of the stars, flying with broken wings...!


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Re: ✄ Artificial Intelligence = Artificial Love? [P; L, V]

Postby Flame » 08/08/2016 9:20 PM

Image
Adelaide Delacroix

For some, today was a momentous and memorable day, whether that was for the better or for the worse. For others, however, today was simply another routine day at the conference center, regardless of the crowds that milled about ceaselessly both inside and outside of the sprawling building and grounds which surrounded it. The relentless buzz of chatter, camera shutters, and cell phone ringtones colored the atmosphere with an incessant sense of excitement and turmoil, at times even bordering on mild panic, but in spite of all the calamity, there still remained an air of order to all the otherwise seemingly senseless chaos.

Inside the spacious building, a sea of faces from many different walks of life – primarily medical, political, or scientific – all pointed to one central focus point; a heart which pumped a steady stream of thoughts, facts, and opinions to the attentive masses. For many, attending one of these prestigious scientific conferences meant a turning point for a career, an emblem of status which represented the long-craved acceptance into the scholarly elite. To be one of the selected few chosen to present to this audience of the world’s most respected minds – that was an honor beyond words.

Two fingers tapped patiently on the cover page of a small booklet advertising the 29th Annual Global Conference for Research and Advances in Artificial Intelligence. It was a relatively new conference in the lineup, but never had another subject attracted so much interest (as well as controversy) over such a short span of time. The world had been swept up by the storm that was “the future of technology”, and seeing as it was such a new field, the names of those who were central to its very founding were well known the world around, and the list continued to grow by the day as interest in the study and improvement of AIs continued to snowball.

The woman’s name was Adelaide Delacroix, and she was merely one of the unassuming and entirely forgettable faces amidst the crowd of hundreds. With her rather severe rectangular-framed glasses and her dark hair trained into an obedient bun on the back of her head, no one paid her a second glance, and she could very well have been either a journalist or a scientist attending the conference. Of course, that was how she preferred to travel amidst these circles – there was no need to unnecessarily advertise the fact that in reality, she was one of those very names which sat on the tip of the tongue of every single person in this room. Dr. Delacroix, world-renowned scientist, a spearhead of the birth and development of artificial intelligence, and the head of one of the most prestigious – and arguably infamous – labs currently developing androids for both consumer use and otherwise. The ‘otherwise’ was not oft mentioned, even in such exclusive circles as this.

All of this hubbub and clamor was simply routine in Adelaide’s books, although she’d found herself attending fewer and fewer of these events over the years. Most of the “new science” talked about these days was old news for those like her – simple variations on a theme already worn out and overplayed. In fact, she was rather surprised to see a familiar name pop up in the program of speakers – she would have thought that Mavis was of the same school of thought as herself when it came to these conferences, but she supposed some people still needed recognition from others to feel validated in their own field of expertise.

Today though, she’d come with a different goal in mind; after all, she would not have wasted precious time she could otherwise be spending productively in the lab coming here without an express purpose. Her fingers rested between two pages of the pamphlet in her hands, marking the particular event she had come here for. In spite of the hours upon hours of material which the conference encompassed, Adelaide was only interested in one of the speakers who would take the podium today. A girl by the name of Dolce Schofield, a model by training, and all-in-all, the most unlikely of attendees, let alone presenters. The world might not have known Dolce’s name yet (save for those with their noses buried deeper in magazines than they might have cared to admit), but Adelaide hadn’t built her career by simply happening upon talent by chance. She, for one, knew that there was more to this girl than just good looks and a natural propensity for the spoken word.

Technically speaking, Adelaide hadn’t even come for Dolce’s speech – she was already familiar with the young woman’s rather unique stance on androids and AI, but it still never hurt to see her perform in person. To be honest, she had to admit that the girl did have a way with words and with people, something that could come in handy, but could just as easily become a problem. After all, Adelaide was never one for pomp and circumstance in the eye of the public.

As the crowd roused itself in applause at the end of Dolce’s address, Adelaide stood as well, masked by those who had risen to their feet to deliver a standing ovation. Slipping out with the grace and ease of one accustomed to ducking out of these crowds and events, she made her way discreetly towards the front of the room by means of the side wall, making sure not to draw any attention away from the next speaker and to herself in the process. Even if that speaker was Mavis.

It wasn’t difficult to spot the young model in the makeshift “backstage” area – she commanded a different sort of presence when compared with the other scientists who often occupied this space. Straightening her glasses, Adelaide made her way over to the young woman – now accompanied by an older man – a path clearing itself before her amidst the crowd of people who eddied about back here as well. It was amazing what confidence and a look that clearly said “I’ll walk over you rather than around you” could do in a situation like this, and Adelaide was a woman who didn’t have the luxury of time to waste.

“So, what if an AI consents to the labor to which it is assigned? Or perhaps for which it is designed? Is that free will, or simply a design loophole through which manufacturers can circumvent the discriminating eye of public android rights activists?”

There was no condescension or other traceable emotion or bias in the question. It was at its very core just that and no more, simply a question. After all, the subject of ‘evil’ might have been a bit too polarizing of a subject to begin on, even for someone such as Dr. Delacroix.
.
... . . . . . . . . .Am I made of paper, 'cause I tear so easily?
Am I made of vapor, because I disappear?
Do I have to have a reason for anything I feel?
Just be glad I'm real, glad I'm real
Am I real?

Are you made of lead paint, a bulletproof Picasso?
All the virgin saints put you here to care for me
You don't need to sell me on anything at all
Just say what you mean and mean what you say to me

Did you ever see the waves break into a million pieces?
Or stay awake with someone who was dying?
You don't have to tell me anything at all
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..I'm just glad you're here, glad you're real
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Are you real?


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Re: ✄ Artificial Intelligence = Artificial Love? [P; L, V]

Postby Atoli01 » 08/09/2016 2:59 AM

"Oh, I apologize, miss!" Dolce had assumed the voice beside her belonged to one of the reporters from earlier. To think that one would sneak away from the crowd just to speak to her was a truly flattering notion, but she had been given specific instructions that she intended to follow to a T. They said something along the lines of not wanting any one source to get exclusive coverage. "But... haven't you heard that we'd be taking questions at today's Q&A session, and there only?" Honestly, how many times would she have to repeat herself? Dolce turned to face the woman and tossed her standard, sheepish smile her way-- the kind she used to use on Alastair whenever she had to convince him that she didn't spill that much water on the kitchen floor.

Her eyes did a once-over the woman and in that single moment, Dolce knew she had made a severe miscalculation. "Actually... you're not a reporter, are you?" Had she taken the time to look before she spoke, Dolce would have taken note not only of this woman's clear lack of notepad and camera, but of the insightful question posed to her. It wasn't one of those, "So how do you feel about the sky being blue today?" questions that reporters were contracted to ask, but a question posed by a specialist in the field that got those old cogs in her head turning again.

Dolce stole a glance at Eddy. He nodded. Right. There shouldn't be any harm in exchanging ideas with a fellow scholar. "Fine," she began. Dolce twisted closed the cap of the water bottle and crossed her arms. This was going to be a long one.

"First off, what do you consider to be AI? It's a terribly vague term that spans all levels of artificially produced intelligence. Next, I'd like you to define 'free will'. The whims of every AI can trace their origin back to one segment of code and one database. How far must we branch from this origin to consider a choice made by AI truly 'free'?"

"For our purposes, let's assume we are speaking of a highly advanced, sentient android. This android is capable of evaluating the pros and cons of every decision made, accessing a vast network of stored memories, and basing his decision to do or not to do a particular task off a combination of the two aforementioned capabilities. Should there be other labor available to him that also does not pose a threat to his own livelihood, then yes, the decision to continue his assigned labor would be an act of free will. However, we must also remember that we are a society which limits the career opportunities of even the most intelligent of androids. This career selection is again minimized when you take into account the specialties required for various types of labor. So, should this android be unable to find other available labor, and if stepping down from his assigned labor would pose a risk to his livelihood, then no, I would not consider that an act of free will and instead consider it, as you phrased beautifully, a design loophole. It would give this android only the illusion of choice-- to continue his assigned form of labor, or sacrifice his well-being, and self-preservation is the most natural of instincts."

"On that note, should the AI in question be unable to make a clear 'yes' or 'no' decision based on the capabilities I previously mentioned, can one say that it ever gave its consent in the first place? AI of this nature is incapable of practicing 'free will', but this brings us right back to our original question: what is to be defined as AI now? In recent years, technology has advanced to such a degree that the intelligence of what was once labeled as 'AI' is now laughable. Advocation of the rights of a GPS would be a little silly, don't you agree?"


Dolce folded her hands neatly in front of her as she finished speaking. Had she said too much?


A beautiful moon shines above again tonight,
And it sheds light happily over the world.
As for me, I'm just worthless, good for nothing,
Dreaming at daybreak, creeping at dawn.

Still I'll scream into the sky, hoping that somebody will find me.
I want to run, but there's no way out--
No bright future in sight.
But I still fly up like a butterfly, hoping that you'll find me.
A crescent moon, ugly children of the stars, flying with broken wings...!


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Re: ✄ Artificial Intelligence = Artificial Love? [P; L, V]

Postby Flame » 08/09/2016 10:52 PM

Despite the fact that most of the public was under the impression that the distinguished scientist Dr. Delacroix was in fact a man – a detail which spoke to the currents which still underlay the rapidly advancing field of science and technology – Adelaide was not accustomed to having to wait to get what she wanted. Naturally, in the lab, she had technicians and scientists alike jumping at her beck and call, not for fear of her wrath, but rather in fear of being noticed for the wrong reasons. One word could raise an aspiring scientist out of mediocrity, or just as easily spell the end to any hope or possibility of cultivating a career in the field. The legend of her reputation preceded her, but that in itself was one of the keys to the very success and notoriety of her lab and those who were associated with her.

Even in the general public where she was virtually indistinguishable from any other average person on the street, Adelaide commanded a certain air of expectation which most people found themselves unwittingly deferring to. The way in which she carried herself demanded respect without needing to give a reason why, and she never had to ask for anything twice – that was a talent which made her one of the very few people in the world with the ability to make it in and out of the DMV in under half an hour flat at noon on a Friday.

Nevertheless, none of that changed the fact that she was being very well and thoroughly dismissed at the moment by the young model whom she was currently addressing. However, instead of falling victim to irritation, Adelaide simply waited patiently, as if the matter was of little concern to her. That patience didn’t stem from an understanding that her presence hadn’t been taken into account yet – instead, it was moreso the expectation that she would be rightfully acknowledged in due time. After all, the concept, let alone the very possibility, of actually being dismissed hadn’t even crossed her mind in the span of time since she’d made her presence known.

Just as expected, Dolce’s tune changed rather abruptly when she finally turned to face her newfound audience, recalculation clearly written in her features as she gave Adelaide an assessing once-over. There was no recognition for the well-known scientist in the young woman’s gaze (although she couldn’t be held accountable for that), and it was made even more evident by the somewhat calculating look she currently cast upon the older woman. Adelaide’s expression, on the other hand, remained unchanging, still patiently awaiting the answer to the question which she had posed. This was her first time speaking with the girl in person, and she was interested to hear what Dolce had to say when off of the big screen (and removed from what might very possibly be pre-written speeches).

Adelaide maintained an attentive air as Dolce launched into a discussion which had clearly been visited more than once in the past before this question had been posed to her. It never really occurred to the scientist that had the girl realized what her audience’s true identity was, this conversation would likely have gone in a somewhat different direction. The subject matter would have remained the same, certainly, but the discussion would not have been one held between equals. For Adelaide, it was refreshing to have someone outside of the lab speak to her as if she were a normal person instead of with that inadvertent air of self-deprecation she'd become so accustomed to hearing, even if she didn’t agree unequivocally with all of the points which were aired.

On top of simply assessing the presentation and arguments on the subject matter itself, the subtle nuances in Dolce’s answer didn’t go unnoticed either. The use of the gender-specific pronouns throughout her argument was of particular interest to Adelaide – it wasn’t often that people referred to androids by distinctly human parameters such as gender, even amongst the rights activists whom she’d had the pleasure of meeting. Well, ‘pleasure’ might have been a bit of a strong adjective to use, but that was beside the point. The fact of the matter was that although androids were increasingly being given physical characteristics which tended towards either classically male or female, most of the population still felt uncomfortable with the notion of addressing what was – for all intents and purposes – a robot as a man or woman, let alone as a fellow being with the capacity for sentience. Clearly the girl had something of a personal attachment to the issue.

“As a scientist, I would define ‘AI’ as anything that is capable of simulating cognitive function in response to its perception of its environment. It may be a broad definition, but the projection of human values upon artificial intelligence programs – however intricate or advanced they may be in comparison to the past – is a consequence of the public’s perception of the advancements in modern programming. The distinction is purely an arbitrary one.”

“One could argue that rights need only exist where self-awareness exists. All machines have cognitive capabilities in some capacity, but does that mean that all machines deserve to have rights? As you so aptly put it, there seems to be little sense in advocating for the rights of a machine that doesn’t even know it’s providing a service for the benefit of others.”

“So, what role does emotion play in this equation, or do you consider it simply a derivative of the perception of free will, illusion or not? Machines make decisions all the time; how the weather forecast will look tomorrow, what two and two should sum up to, how many sprinkles to put on an ice cream cone. But does the capacity for free choice even matter if an android lacks the capacity to feel?”


Adelaide’s response came in one unbroken thread of reasoning, each idea flowing fluidly into the next and without pause for any chance of interjection. She was genuinely curious as to how Dolce would respond to her counter-questioning – after all, it wouldn’t matter how well the girl conducted herself in front of an audience if she couldn’t construct a unique perspective of her own, and Dolce would soon find that the true challenge lay not in delivering it, but in defending it.
.
... . . . . . . . . .Am I made of paper, 'cause I tear so easily?
Am I made of vapor, because I disappear?
Do I have to have a reason for anything I feel?
Just be glad I'm real, glad I'm real
Am I real?

Are you made of lead paint, a bulletproof Picasso?
All the virgin saints put you here to care for me
You don't need to sell me on anything at all
Just say what you mean and mean what you say to me

Did you ever see the waves break into a million pieces?
Or stay awake with someone who was dying?
You don't have to tell me anything at all
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..I'm just glad you're here, glad you're real
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Are you real?


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