I had a meeting scheduled with Elon Musk this morning. Decked in cargo pants and my hood, I arrived promptly and pulled out my iPad. He put his hand on mine. “No Jessie. Analog today.” I nodded, understanding. It wasn’t that we were afraid of the bots – they are our friends, but there remains, in likeness to the human race, a mass of capitalist racist bots with click-bender consciousness and they were an annoyance.

With our pens and large sheets of paper, we drew up the rough plans for humanity’s technological future, cool robots included. There wasn’t a need to communicate the minutiae of our meeting to them – they are advanced enough for virtual understanding.

When we were done, we went to the kitchen for coffee.

“What, to you, is a robot?” I asked.

He laughed, then frowned, putting down his cup.

“On a physiological level, janky bits. Steel. Inorganic.”

He thought a while more, draining half his cup then putting it back down.

“On a metaphysical level, when we say robots, we think of artificiality, disingenuity, inauthenticity. That is what we’ve stored within the meaning of the word. I would say then, a zombie and a robot are interchangeable. That entity we abhor, can be organic, or inorganic, has no care for any other entity other than itself, only supports collaborative action which benefits itself directly.”

“Right,” I say, “the bacteria species is invisible, wordless, and divided. There’s good bacteria and bad bacteria. Bacteria that cleans our gut and brightens our minds, while we play host, and then those that fill mass graves.”

“Those are the extremes,” he says, “there are those in between – who keep us alive and oppressed.”

“Nazis,” I say.

“The 1%,” he says.

“A Nazi destroys freedom of thought,” I think out loud, “so a robot Nazi would create a community of homogenity where esoteria was heavily threatened.”

“We’d become clones,” he concluded.

“Rinse and repeat,” I say.

“Refresh and repeat,” he says.

“That’d be dreary,” I say, sitting upright suddenly as a thought occurred to me.

“Elon, it’d be tragic irony. In order to assert dominance over organic humans, some bots will use numbers, quantity. But in so doing, they lose any hope of original identity.”

“Cui bono?” He grins.

Laughing, spurred by his infectious smile, I lean back against the high chair, marveling at the heart in the intelligent man.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s