I've been reading about this guy for a few days now. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Don't get me wrong, I love robots. Maybe a little too much. I love the idea of perfect logic unclouded by the human trappings of emotions, or that pesky free will. I love the dedication to perfecting a specific task. I love that Asimov created the laws for robots long before they were needed, or possibly just when they were needed.
1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2. A robot must obey orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.
Simple and effective. Why don't people work like that?
(In the short story "Evidence" Asimov puts it this way: "if such an individual obeys the Laws, he may be a robot or simply a very good man.")
But when you factor in a robot designed to respond to cuddling and touching in a positive way, does that open the door to more sinister things? I'm not talking about electric gonorrhea, the noisy killer. More like, a robot that grows attached to people, develops a preference to certain human touches and an aversion to others. Learns to seek companionship but only of certain sorts. How does that play out? A negative reaction to some people? A too-enthusiastic reaction to others? Could the robot develop attachment to a single person, and therefore possibly suffer if that attachment is broken? And then crush someone with their giant metal claws?
Doesn't that all defeat the purpose of being a robot? (except the metal claws part, that's 100% awesome robot)
If my fantasies of not having feelings and being totally logical and rational in all events in my life are to stay strong, scientists can't be doing this to me. I need cold, unfeeling, task oriented mechanical men in my life to look up to. Data, ASIMO, Roombas and the like. Sure, they can play soccer with me and vacuum my floor, but I don't want one that needs a hugs. Maybe one that just needs an oil change and some searing-hot resin every so often.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
It's like tiny stilts! For your feet!
I have to say, I only sort of understand why women wear heels. I'm a girl, I can appreciate the aesthetic created when the foot is pointed and wrapped up in cute strappy tethers. It makes you taller! It reduces the risk of the appearance of cankles! Look at how cute they are! As hard as it may be to believe, before I moved to Boston, I didn't even own flats, aside from a pair of sneakers.
Since moving to a place where I depend totally on my feet (and the T) to get me around, my shoe choices have become more practical, leading me to turn my back on my hight-enhancing footwear. I'm 5'8", at this point any more hight added just feels like I'm lording my ability to reach the top shelf over the short people.
But here's my actual argument: They're unwieldy and uncomfortable. I had thought that foot binding went out of style when they started allowing women to walk on their own, instead of being carried from the kitchen to the bedroom and back again. But here we are, toes pinched, straps digging into flesh, back and hips misaligned. Not to mention the blisters and calluses from breaking in a new pair. And in observing women walk in these shoes, I've noticed that one thing connects all of them: the little heel wobble. When the heel hits the ground, it shakes back and forth, just a little. Every time, every person. Being that I have the worst balance (thanks childhood ear infections!), that little wobble is just too much of a margin of error for me. With my luck I'll hit one of the cobblestones wrong and snap off a foot or something.
Why must we put ourselves through this? I get that pain is beauty or whatever cliche you wanna throw out there, but I gotta be able to walk on concrete and quickly. Having my feet throb because the shoes were just too cute to pass up doesn't make that much sense to me. Oh, and by the way, if I ever hear some girl in 4 inch strappy stilettos complaining about how her feet hurt after choosing them over something a little more reasonable, all she'll get from me is a look and maybe a sarcastic comment relating to her stupidity. It all depends on the person.
I do have to say, my friend Danielle is the exception to my arguments. Wears heels constantly, worked up her tolerance, brings backup shoes, doesn't whine about sore feet. I've got a lot of respect for that. If there was some kind of triathlon held where the participants had to do the whole thing in strappy, pointy heels, she'd win it. I'd just be at the start, wondering how the hell I'm supposed to get my feet into the damn shoes.
Since moving to a place where I depend totally on my feet (and the T) to get me around, my shoe choices have become more practical, leading me to turn my back on my hight-enhancing footwear. I'm 5'8", at this point any more hight added just feels like I'm lording my ability to reach the top shelf over the short people.
But here's my actual argument: They're unwieldy and uncomfortable. I had thought that foot binding went out of style when they started allowing women to walk on their own, instead of being carried from the kitchen to the bedroom and back again. But here we are, toes pinched, straps digging into flesh, back and hips misaligned. Not to mention the blisters and calluses from breaking in a new pair. And in observing women walk in these shoes, I've noticed that one thing connects all of them: the little heel wobble. When the heel hits the ground, it shakes back and forth, just a little. Every time, every person. Being that I have the worst balance (thanks childhood ear infections!), that little wobble is just too much of a margin of error for me. With my luck I'll hit one of the cobblestones wrong and snap off a foot or something.
Why must we put ourselves through this? I get that pain is beauty or whatever cliche you wanna throw out there, but I gotta be able to walk on concrete and quickly. Having my feet throb because the shoes were just too cute to pass up doesn't make that much sense to me. Oh, and by the way, if I ever hear some girl in 4 inch strappy stilettos complaining about how her feet hurt after choosing them over something a little more reasonable, all she'll get from me is a look and maybe a sarcastic comment relating to her stupidity. It all depends on the person.
I do have to say, my friend Danielle is the exception to my arguments. Wears heels constantly, worked up her tolerance, brings backup shoes, doesn't whine about sore feet. I've got a lot of respect for that. If there was some kind of triathlon held where the participants had to do the whole thing in strappy, pointy heels, she'd win it. I'd just be at the start, wondering how the hell I'm supposed to get my feet into the damn shoes.
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