MORAVEC’S PARADOX
John of Us, clutching a full cup of coffee in his hand, has almost made it as far as his trainer when the conference room door suddenly swings open. The coffee spills. His trainer quickly takes the cup from him and puts it down on the table.
“I would have done it this time,” says John, “if you hadn’t burst in like that.”
Tony Party-Leader is standing in the doorway, with a short, unremarkable-looking woman in tow.
“What’s going on here?” asks the woman.
“John is practicing carrying a full cup of coffee across the room,” says the trainer. “And we’re making very good progress!”
The woman turns to face Tony.
“You want to put state business in the hands of someone who can’t even carry a cup without spilling it?”
John gives her a sharp stare.
“It’s called Moravec’s Paradox,” he says.
“Is it indeed?”
“Hans Moravec was a pioneer in the field of artificial intelligence,” says John. “He discovered that, for an AI, the difficult problems are simple and the simple problems difficult. Seemingly easy tasks that only require the sensorimotor abilities of a 1-year-old, like, let’s say, carrying a full cup of something, demand an unbelievable amount of calculation from an AI, while seemingly complicated tasks, like beating a grand master of chess, are downright simple for them.”
“Seemingly complicated like… running a country, for example?” asks the woman.
“Correct.”
“John,” says Tony, “this is Aisha. She will be leading your election campaign from now on.”
“Nice to meet you,” says John. “You do know what happened to my last election campaign manager, don’t you? An angry Machine Breaker paid him a visit in his country house and beat him into a coma.”
Aisha nods. “I heard.”
“And that doesn’t scare you off?”
“I don’t have a country house.”
John turns to his trainer. “Let’s continue this later.”
Once the trainer has left the room, Aisha asks: “So where’s the entourage? The assistants, the secretaries, the bodyguards, and all the other grandstanders?”
“John does all of that himself,” says Tony enthusiastically. “The first efficiency benefit, one could say.”
“And who whispers in his ear to tell him who he’s engaged in small talk with?” asks Aisha. “What their children are called, how their dogs are, which lobby group they’re on the payroll of?”
“You are Aisha Doctor,” says John. “Shortly before you were born, your parents were granted asylum in QualityLand. It was your late mother, who died at an early age, who wanted to call you Aisha, after the Khaled song rather than Muhammad’s third wife. Even though your mother was a doctor in her native homeland, you had to go to court to be allowed to use this surname. Your original one was Aisha Refugee. You were always an overachiever. You won a scholarship to the University of the City of Progress, where you studied law. Partly in order to be able to fight the case about your name, because you couldn’t have afforded a lawyer. You made the trial into a political issue. You said you went to court out of respect for your dead mother, but I think it’s much more likely that you were worried about your chances on the job market. An Aisha Doctor has far more employment opportunities open to her than an Aisha Refugee. Our president then brought you on board in her campaign planning as an example of ‘successful integration.’ You don’t have a dog. Your only pet was a canary called Chirpy, which you set free at the age of 8. It’s 81.92 percent probable that he didn’t even survive the week. You don’t have any children, for medical reasons: a protracted Fallopian tube inflammation. You don’t get any money from any lobby groups. You’re not the best in your field, but you probably are the best willing to manage an android’s election campaign.”
“It seems to me,” says Aisha, smiling calmly at Tony, “that you ordered a president and got a fucking smart-ass.”
“Oh yes,” says John. “And you curse too much.”
“Damn right I do.”
“Thank you for coming,” says John, “but I don’t think I need your services.”
“Is that so?”
“I’ve already planned my election campaign.”
“And what’s your strategy?”
“I’ve calculated which policies will be of most use to the society as a whole, and I can justify my calculations flawlessly,” says John. “I will rely upon the unforced force of the better argument.”
Aisha smiles. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who needs my services as much as you do.”
“I’m sure that my reasoning…”
“Reasoning!” interjects Aisha. “All I ever hear is reasoning! Do you know who’s open to reasoning? Level 30 people and above. Even if you could convince all of them, that wouldn’t even be 10 percent of the electorate. Anyone who wants to win an election has to convince the single-digit people, the masses, the Useless, and you won’t get them with reason. You get them with emotions!”
“It’s absolutely part of my plan to represent the interests of those in need,” says John.
“When have the Useless ever elected a government who would have represented their interests?” exclaims Tony. “John! Come to your senses!”
“I think it’s obvious that your economic system is so ineffective it’s downright laughable. You’re nowhere near the goal of distributing wealth in a way that’s beneficial to society as a whole,” says John.
“But that’s not even the point of our economic system,” says Aisha. “I think you’ve got your wires crossed.”
“Can we please bring this pointless discussion about content to a close?” asks Tony. “Let’s get back to the matter at hand: how can we win the election? I think we should try to play on our technological superiority. Why don’t we simply have duplicates made of John? Then he can conduct the election campaign in a hundred places at once!”
“You see,” says Aisha, “that’s what you hired me for: to nip flagrant idiocy like that in the bud.”
Indignation flares up across the Progress Party leader’s face. “Now, listen here…” he begins.
“Everyone who doesn’t have a clue, shut up now,” says Aisha, putting her finger to her lips. “A hundred Johns—that will only freak people out! We should concentrate instead on our John being unique. An individual.”
“One that’s present, one that people can talk to directly,” says John.
“Of course,” says Aisha with a smile. “Of course. And we have to make sure that you come across as humanly as possible.”
“But why should I pretend to be flawed?” asks John.
“Human does have other connotations too, you know,” says Aisha. “But yes, a few endearing flaws certainly wouldn’t hurt.”
“That’s ridiculous,” says John. “I don’t need flaws!”
“Well, there’s one already,” says Aisha. “Unfortunately, though, arrogance isn’t all that endearing. And on that note, I’d like to come back to the campaign slogan. May I ask what brain-fucked zombie dreamed it up?”
“The slogan was John’s own idea,” says Tony defiantly. “I like it. And we’ve already ordered all the promotional material; we can’t change it now.”
“Well, this could get interesting,” says Aisha, taking a sip out of the cup of half-spilled coffee.
John’s slogan is emblazoned across the cup: “Machines don’t make mistakes.”
IN THE CELLAR
“But, but…” says Calliope 7.3, staring at the machines in the cellar, which far from being crushed into manageable cubes, in fact look very active. “Isn’t this illegal? After all, since the Consumption Protection Laws, any kind of repair is strictly forbidden. This is an offense. I have to report it.”
A 128-kilogram-heavy and 2.56-meter-tall combat robot, damaged but very imposing nonetheless, stomps toward Calliope in a threatening way. In his steel fist, he’s holding a neon pink QualityPad.