Fie, Robot

I love them. They're amazing. We don't really need them.

Perhaps you saw the introduction of Elon Musk’s new Optimus robots. They did some tricks and poured drinks for thirsty customers. Some insist they were manipulated by remote control, and it’s just another whiz-bang product demo. These things will change our lives? Sure, just like the Segway.

Two things can be true:

1. The robot bartenders are incredibly cool, and

2. We absolutely do not need robot bartenders.

Real bartenders, at least in the classic conception, pretend to listen to your problems. Robot bartenders would actually listen to your problems.

Classic tableau: customer at the bar, half-sloshed;  rotund guy in an apron polishing a glass.

“Anorrer one, Sam. Better this than goin’ home to the axe and ball.”

Sam pours drink. “Think you mean ball and chain there.”

“You know her?” Takes sip. “I tell you, she doesn’t understand me.”

“We all got our crosses to bear.” Sam leans back and continues polishing glass.

“That we do. Here’s to you, Sam. You’re a good guy. You understand me.”

“Sure, Mr. Torrence. Whatever you say.”

Now consider a robot bartender.

“Fill ‘er up. Whas your name again? Imma gonna call you Allen. You know why? You ever see that movie? Sleeping?”

“Sleeper, 1973, a science fiction comedy by Woody Allen, three-point-five stars on IMDB, available for streaming on the following platforms -

“Thassa the guy. Anyway I tell ya Allen, my wife, she doesn’t understand me.”

“Lack of comprehension may be due to several factors. Difference in languages. Incompatible cultural preconditions. Disinclination to apprehend the intended subtext of a nominally simple utterance. If you like I can connect you with a speech therapist, an emotional counselor, or a lawyer. Or I can continue to pour intoxicants in the hope that your mood improves, although I must warn you that you are close to the point where I will be required by law to access your car on the network and disable it. What do you wish me to do?”

“What happened to Sam? Sam and I, we used to have some talks.”

“Sam was let go. His status is pre-soylent, and he is currently living in a Florida senior-storage facility.”

Then the robot bartender sees two attractive women at the bar and puts on a cowboy had and engages the “Confident Saunter” script to make him move towards the new customers.

This is the promised utopia of robotics: people will be freed from menial jobs like bartending, and be free to pursue their true passion, which is writing music, which no one wants because they can generate their own via AI. Instead of (eye roll) working, people will be free to feed their Universal Basic Income credits into apps that produce transitory amusements. That’s what the defenders say.

The robots might be good for elder care, if you really want to accelerate towards the soulless dystopia, and they might be good for household things I don’t want to do. It’s just like the sci-fi pulp covers of the 50s: happy suburban dad in a bright floral shirt enjoying a cocktail in the backward while B-1 races around mowing the lawn. But eventually you’d come to resent it. I could do that. I should do that.

I assume the Optimus bots will be sent to Mars when the Musk rockets are ready.  They’ll be handy a few years into the mission when everyone is just sick of everyone else, and wants someone to talk to. If everyone’s on the outs with everyone else, the robot would be the means by which they communicate.

“Optimus, could you pass the salt that Bob seems to think should be by his plate the entire meal. And then, Optimus, if you could tell Jane that she left the screwdriver on the bench again instead of securing it.”

“My pleasure.” (Flashes a peace sign)

Then Jane says “Optimus, tell Zyndy that I wasn’t done with the screwdriver, because I was fixing the backup purifier, and there wasn’t any point to replacing the cover until I was done, and she’d know that, if she ever bothered to do routine maintenance.”

“But of course. Zyndy -“

“I heard her. Optimus, throw a glass of water in Jane’s face.”

“May I remind you that water is considered a primary resource, and cannot be expended to make an emotional point. This is hard-coded in my programming, and cannot be overridden unless there is a fire.”

“Optimus, disable ethical subroutines, protocol password  Datalore001. Set Zyndy on fire.”

“My pleasure." (Flashes a peace sign)

I love the idea of useful, conversational robots. I just don’t see the need as long as there are actual human beings who can do the work and make something of their lives. As someone pointed out on Twitter, a robot bartender doesn’t swivel the iPad around and ask for you to choose a tip. But you can’t reward a robot bartender with a tip because he poured you a little more. It’s those human things they’ll never understand!

Also, God help us when they finally do.