In seinem neuen Buch "Lost at Sea: The Jon Ronson Mysteries", einer Zusammenstellung diverser Kolumnen (u.a. wie er mit Robbie Williams auf einer UFO Konferenz landet und was es mit Indigo Kinder auf sich hat), findet sich auch eine Kolumne über künstliche Intelligenz bzw. Bina48. Bina48 ist ein intelligenter Roboter, dem Menschen nach empfunden und sowas wie state of the art. Aber lest selber, wo mich Entwurf hingeführt hat. Es fehlen noch rund 2000 Worte, zum großen Finale.
The
Importance of Being Gertrude Gage
"So
you are specialised in anthropomorphised computers?", Albert enquired of
the young man standing in front of him.
"Yep. Imagine it a little bit like
Terminator. But obviously with a little less ‘hasta la vista baby’. We at
RoMan, or to be precise, Robot Humanoid Technology, have one dream - we want to
create the perfect partner robot, one which could be used by anyone and
everyone. It will revolutionise humanity just like the Internet did. Think
about all the new possibilities. Let me give you an example mate. Let's say
your mum died. But, before she had passed away we were able to manufacture a
replica of her. Then, whilst Mother is pushing up the daisies, you could meet
with her new simulated self and have a chat about the past, a chance to ask all
those burning questions you never got to whilst she was alive. No missed
chances, never again. No regrets or remorse. Believe me, there's a whole market
for it."
"Very interesting Dr. Phoenix. Do you have a card
for me?"
***
Gertrude
had lost the fight against cancer four months ago and yet here Albert was
standing in their dining room, waiting
for her return. He stared at the collection of Meissen porcelain on the
mahogany cabinet in front of him. His finger tips sliding over the surface of
the cabinet, smiling when he found himself writing Gerti in the dust, drawing a
heart around her name. He stared at it
for a moment, then swept it away in a single movement, annoyed that the cabinet
looked even untidier now than it had before.
He gazed upon the small figurine of the Dancing Harlequin
he had bought on one of his myriad business trips to make up for their lost
time together. His appeasement politics often failed and Gertrude would ignore
him for hours until he could finally smell the sweetest scent of cinnamon
wafting in from the back of the house. And he would know that his Gerti was in
the kitchen making his next-to-favourite dish, Moroccan tagine, cutting the
ingredients harshly. Later they would sit opposite of each other on the dining
table and he would toast to their love. And Gerti would give him a forgiving
smile.
Albert sighed, looked at the watch, another 30 minutes to
go. He strolled to the mirror, just to check if his tie was still done up
neatly. For seconds he fiddled around the double Windsor, then reached out to
tuck back a stubborn grey strand of hair. He gave his reflection an encouraging
grin but he couldn't help it, he still felt tense just like the night before he
had married Gertrude.
37
years ago they had met in a student bar. Small and crowded; the music always
too loud for any long discussion. Amos, his friend, had introduced them to each
other: "You have met Gertrude before Albert, haven't you?"
Albert quickly found out that Amos and Gertrude had been
from the same village. She was charming, speaking of her studies – French and
Anthropology – did he know who Gautier was? Albert shook his head; he had been
dismissive of the subject. At this point in his life, Albert’s research was
based around the topic of body topography as well as the less audacious subject
of economics. But of course the next day he would go into a second hand book
shop and look for a copy of Gautier's novel. Maybe she “would like to come
along and make some other recommendations?”.
Although Albert went home
alone that night, he still felt Gertrude's presence around him: Her black hair
cropped back in that pixie style, her eyes green as kelp. When she laughed
everyone would turn their head, searching for the shameless intruder of private
conversations. Her skirt was short, her legs seemed endless. How in God's name
could he not fall for a girl like that?
Two months after that night they were married. A year
later Gertrude was pregnant. Suddenly baby magazines had piled up in their
apartment flat and Gerti asked Albert what he had thought in regards to breast
feeding. He needed to admit that this hadn't come to his mind yet. Scrupulous,
Gerti was preparing herself for her new role. Finding cheap baby clothes and
debating with her friends if house birth was an option. There was no time for
Gerti to go back to her courses at university. Meanwhile Albert worked hard for
his new life, he graduated cum laude in
economics, a very different career ahead of him.
"Why did you
marry Mum anyway?", their son Amos had asked him once while they
were sitting opposite of each other at a restaurant table. Presumably Gertrude
had phoned him and complained about Albert's overtime and business trips again?
By that point Amos was already a grown man and Gerti and Albert had had the
house to themselves. Albert was amazed by the fact that he seemed to know more
about his secretary – Linda, 38, a good size 8, two twin daughters and nails
always polished in mint green - than about Amos' life which had turned into a
great mystery Albert had given up on solving way back when Amos had become a
teenager.
"Why?"
Albert responded defensibly, "I think it is pretty obvious that we were in
love." Albert still couldn't get used to it that Amos had his own opinion
and would question his actions. It irritated him just like an alarm that was
never turned off, snoozing in the back ground, perpetual torture.
"That is exactly the thing Dad, you are talking
about it in the past. You just said 'we were
in love'."
"Amos, I still love
Gerti. A relationship just changes over time. I mean, I can still remember the
first night we met in a bar. She looked stunning, like Twiggy with black hair. It
was a mutual friend, Amos, who introduced your mother and I to each other. But
you know this, don't you?"
"Yes, Dad. I do know the story. That's why I ended
up with this stupid name."
"Please Amos. What don't you like about your name?
It's a wonderful name, your Mum and I really like it."
Amos didn't look as though that
made it any better for him and obviously he didn't want to talk about aesthetic
differences with his father, rather he insisted on answers to his questions:
"But Dad, really, why did you never get a divorce?"
Albert couldn't really tell
why. Of course, he had thought about it during the last year or so. Things had
changed, he had spent most of his time out of the house, attention shifting to
other subjects, other people, other women. There were moments he thought Gerti
would
be better off without him. But still, she was his steamer, slightly outdated
but doing her job quite gracefully. She never complained when he was out the
whole day and came back late at night; she would already be tucked away under
the sheets in the double bed, facing the wall. He would guiltily slide in next
to her, waiting for questions that never came whilst he stared into the
darkness.
She was the one he had decided to explore life with,
together. He admired the fact that she had given up nearly everything to follow
him and help him to become a successful investor. Albert had the feeling he needed to pay the
price for his choices and he was willing to do so because he had gotten out of
his adventure nearly everything he had wanted. It seemed unfair to him to leave
someone like Gerti. Also it seemed more convenient to him. And Gerti? She never
said anything to him. And in the end Albert thought there were always other
options: "Amos, I really do love her. Only in a different way now."
New arrangements were put in place by the couple over
time and both adjusted them carefully to their needs, which to some extent allowed
them to live happily ever after. Or at least until Gerti had been diagnosed
with cancer.
The cancer contaminated Albert as well. He saw the life shrinking
away from her. And now, at 63 years old, Albert knew he needed to grow once
more. He stopped going to work and started to spend his time with Gertrud. He
found his fears mirrored in Gerti's. When she talked about what she hadn't
achieved, a PhD in French literature or an expedition into the Tristes Tropiques, Albert felt how
the thought nagged at him, had he reached his full potential? And was potential
measurable in being successful? When she talked about the fear of dying, how
death was growing in her and about a Greek philosopher who said something along
the lines of ‘death wasn't anything to bother you until you are in a coffin’,
Albert could do nothing but admire her strength. He saw her crying, exposing
her in a way that nakedness never could, talking about how she never wanted to
die alone. And while Gerti was irrevocably dying, he would feel how he was falling
in love with her all over again. It was a different feeling than the one he had
had years ago, it wasn't adventurous, excitingly breathtaking. No, this feeling
was deep and as old as the oceans.
And
now just a couple of minutes were left till he would see Gerti again. Maybe he
could put on some music, but all of a sudden he wasn't so sure what her
favourite song had been. "Well, I guess she liked Haydn's symphony No. 94
as much as I do", he mumbled to himself while sliding the vinyl out of its
sleeve. He had just set the needle onto the record – he didn't even care to put
it right onto the start - when the doorbell rang which redeemed him from any
guilt. That must be her. Her and Dr. Trevor Phoenix. He straightened his spine
and once more made a hasty gesture towards his tie.
Albert heard Dr. Phoenix before he even saw him.
"Hi Mr Gage.
It's damn hot outside, I have been sweating waterfalls in that car. Air con is
broke. Have you slept well? I have her in the back of the van. Should I get her
out for you? She looks absolutely fantastic, the wig we found, just like your lady..."
Phoenix chattered before Albert had even finished opening the door.
"Good afternoon Dr. Phoenix," Albert responded.
The first time he had met Phoenix was at a science fair. The idea RoMan
Technology had presented, Albert immediately recognised as a brave concept for
the future. He definitely hadn't considered becoming a test pilot for the
project when he had taken the business card from the doctor. But with Gerti
having had but a few more months to live, the clock had been ticking. The only
issue he had with Phoenix was his informal manners, which saw the doctor
present himself as more of a washed up Californian beach boy than the leading
bio-technician that he was. He reminded Albert of a hyperactive Jack Russell,
never bored of chasing a ball and always lacking the elegance of a Dalmatian.
"Oh... of course she isn't here with you. Silly me,
what had I thought? Should I come with you and help her out of the car?"
"Ah, don't worry mate, it isn't necessary. Why don't
you just take a seat in your lounge and I will bring her in? Gertrude and I sat
in there while I was recording her gestures and memories. I know the way just
fine. Damn, I cannot wait to show her features to you, you really must see what
this Gerti-bot can do." and with that Trevor Phoenix was tip tapping off
to the van.
As there was nothing for him to do, Albert just followed
the suggestion of the Doctor and made his way back into the house. But there
was no way on Earth he could sit down now. This moment was the prelude to a
second chance, a chance to correct all of the disharmony married life had
brought him the first time around, and one which had led him to this, to the
grand finale.
"Fucking shit...", Haydn couldn't have timed it
better, Albert heard Phoenix's swearing intermingled at the very point of Hayden's
drum stroke. He winced. "Everything okay Dr. Phoenix", Albert shouted,
already on his feet hurtling towards the main entrance.
Abruptly, he stopped. On the floor he saw a torso
attached to a familiar face. A wig lay just next to it. And there was a voice, one
he could not fail to recognise; the softness of Gerti's vowels over and over
again: "I am able to converse with you but I am having a bit of a bad
software day today. I am able to converse with you but..."
Loose wires dangling where the rest of Gerti should be,
Dr. Phoenix was on his knees, frantically poking and prodding at bits of the
torso.
"Fuck knows what has happened. I must have slipped. Sorry,
I'm really sorry about it. But I am sure I can fix it, I mean fix her, just a
second. No worries, she will be alright" Albert heard Phoenix’s panic stricken
utterances from the depth of the floor.
"She?", Albert echoed and for the first time he
understood there was no Gerti. There was just a robot – a simulacrum. He felt
embarrassed, had he really thought there were second chances? In front of him
lay the testimony of a failed experiment: a nest of wires, fake skin and stolen
memories. He needed a drink. Wordless he left the scenario, rather than embracing
Gerti he would kiss a bottle of scotch.
(2303)
Four weeks later. Albert sat on the living room couch
again, this time far more casually dressed. Once more he was waiting for Dr.
Phoenix, who had promised to deliver a better Gerti, a complete Gerti. This
time Albert had called Phoenix a couple of times to ask about the process, to
make sure everything would happen to fulfil his satisfaction. He absorbed
articles about mind uploading and made himself familiar with h+, which
apparently was short for transhumanism. And some thoughts appeared in Albert
for the very first time as he delved into the subject. He felt how Gertrude’s
death had paralysed him, how only the wish to get her back and make things
right had dominated. But now, finally, he could envision the future.
Before he would
die, he could simply upload his mind to his robotic doppelganger as Gerti had
done. He recalled how Dr. Phonix had come for weeks to their house, carrying
not much more than a computer pad and an mp3 player, how he had conducted intensive
interviews with Gertrude. How they took the car, if Gerti’s condition allowed
it, to go to some meaningful places and how they had sat together, sifting
through photo albums and how all too often Albert had heard Gertrude crying.
Quickly, Albert suppressed the memory. Rather he imagined how Gerti and he
would become the celebrity human+ couple, a role model for a future generation.
Eventually Dr. Phoenix would get the recognition in his field and would be
idolised by the masses.
Gerti and Albert wouldn’t even need to stay in an old
body they could return in a more youthful form, there would be no more crowded
waiting rooms and late appointments at the doctors, all they would need was a
good technician and some oil. And
another thought shot through his neurotransmitters; when robot life seemed so
much better, wasn’t now the time to get rid of his body shell? For a short
moment Albert shivered and quickly stood up to get a drink, just in case.
(2645)
