Technology | 2009.07.25
Rage against the machines | Ariane Sherine
Robots are replacing humans everywhere. Let\'s have a rethink about the tasks they should do
Machines are taking over the country. You may not have realised this yet, because they\'re doing it by stealth. They\'re blinking placidly in the corners of establishments, washing our clothes, vomiting banknotes and spitting out receipts. Do not be fooled. Very soon, they will rule us all.
When, last week, I asked a bus driver, "Please can you tell me when we get to the hospital?" he replied gruffly, "The bus will tell you. It speaks." It did speak, in a bright if weirdly punctuated tone, as though constipated by the effort. I thought back to the friendly, reassuring bus conductors of my childhood, who would whistle while checking tickets and warn, "Mind the lights," if you were jumping out while they were red. I doubted if anyone would ever feel nostalgia for the constipated voice.
Using one of the machines that now impersonate checkout staff in supermarkets is like being mugged by a critical, robotic psychopath. Last year, there were four machines at my local supermarket; there are now 17. When the BNP talks about infiltrators "taking our jobs", they should be directing their wrath at these checkouts.
The worst of these blank, monotonous service creatures is found in doctors\' surgeries, and asks you to press it with your finger when you arrive. (Yeah, I\'m gonna touch a fingerprint-smeared screen in a doctor\'s surgery, especially during a flu pandemic. What could possibly go wrong?) It is closely followed by the banking self-deposit machine, which features a menacing, grasping hole just the right size for a child\'s hand.
The corporations are unrepentant. What, they protest, is there not to like about any of this new technology? It\'s exciting! Advanced! Efficient! Consumers can\'t get enough of technology – they walk down the street falling over bins because they\'re so engrossed in their phones! The fact that most people spend all day staring at screens, and would rather talk to a nice woman than a robot when they use public services, shouldn\'t stand in the way of progress.
But progress doesn\'t mean replacing people with machines that copy us badly and rule out friendly human interactions, smiles, apologies and kindness, helping us to breed Generation Sociopath. At this rate, the Samaritans will soon be fully automated. ("Press 1 if you\'re just having a bad day. Press 2 if you are having suicidal thoughts. Press 3 if you are currently standing on a rickety stool with a noose round your neck.")
Progress, in this area, would be programming machines to do the things human beings can\'t or won\'t do – to dispense the kinds of social truths we\'re all too afraid to spill. Transport chiefs in London seem to have delegated this responsibility to unobtrusive cartoon characters on adverts, which promise, "I won\'t shout on my mobile," and "I won\'t eat smelly food," while real people do those very things right next to them.
If we used machines for the truly unwanted jobs, we would fit odour detectors on public transport, and hook them up to the CCTV cameras. The constipated voice could then announce: "For the comfort of fellow passengers, will the man in the blue shirt please apply deodorant or alight at the next stop?" Everyone else would be secretly relieved, and nobody would get kicked in the head (unless they laughed out loud).
Ideally, the voice wouldn\'t be too polite, but instead take the tone of a weary, sarcastic schoolteacher – the one everyone was too scared to disobey. It could then bark at lazy or thoughtless commuters, "Don\'t just sit there like a lemon – stand up for the old man/pregnant woman!" It could scan people\'s T-shirts for depressingly witless slogans, before blaring, "\'You\'re not drunk – I really look this good.\' Is that supposed to be funny?"
It could also dispense advice on social graces ("Will the young man ostentatiously flaunting his new iPhone please put the bloody thing away – it isn\'t impressing anybody") and save everyone from the dog-whistle shrieks of Mariah Carey ("If the rabble at the back must listen to that tuneless drivel currently masquerading as music, will they please use headphones – there\'s no jukebox on board for a reason").
If it did, this would be the one automated public system I\'d endorse. Unless, of course, someone invented an automated service for writing last lines to Guardian comment pieces – in which case, I\'d be an immediate convert.
ariane@arianesherine.com
For more information, please visit
http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2009/[...]nes-services-voice-robots-rage
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