or an automaton.”
“The comparison was based on the fact that people in his time were deeply
fascinated by machines and the workings of clocks, which appeared to have the ability
to function of their own accord. The word ‘automaton’ means precisely that—
something that moves of its own accord. It was obviously only an illusion that they
moved of their own accord. An astronomical clock, for instance, is both constructed
and wound up by human hands. Descartes made a point of the fact that ingenious
inventions of that kind were actually assembled very simply from a relatively small
number of parts compared with the vast number of bones, muscles, nerves, veins, and
arteries that the human and the animal body consists of. Why should God not be able
to make an animal or a human body based on mechanical laws?”
“Nowadays there is a lot of talk about ‘artificial intelligence.’ “
“Yes, that is the automaton of our time. We have created machines that can
sometimes deceive us into believing that they are intelligent. Machines like these
would have terrified Descartes out of his wits. He might have begun to doubt whether
human reason really was as free and independent as he had supposed. And there are
philosophers who believe that man’s spiritual life is no more free than the bodily
processes. The human soul is naturally infinitely more complex than any data pro-
gram, but some people think that in principle we are just as unfree as these data
programs. But look, Sophie—I’ll show you something.”
Alberto pointed to a large writing table at the other end of the room. On it stood
a small computer. He went over to it. Sophie followed him.
Alberto switched the computer on and soon the screen showed C: at the top. He
wrote “Laila,” explaining that this was an advanced conversation program.
A text soon appeared at the top of the screen:
“Hi, my name is Laila. Are you sitting comfortably?”
Sophie entered three letters:
“Yes,” she wrote although she had not yet sat down. Alberto brought up a chair
for her.
“What is your name?” appeared on the screen.
“Sophie Amundsen,” wrote Sophie, and the computer answered:
“3 Clover Close. Nice to meet you, Sophie. Are you looking forward to your
fifteenth birthday?”
Sophie was startled. Alberto laid a hand on her shoulder and said: “I have only
given her your name, your address, and your date of birth. It’s like when you are
going to be introduced to a new friend. It’s nice to know a little about them
beforehand.”
“Not bad,” wrote Sophie.
“Oh dear, I hope you are not feeling bad, Sophie. You must try to talk in whole
sentences.”
“Thank you, I’m perfectly well. Can I ask you something?”
“I am glad you are well. Go ahead and ask me something.”
“How old are you?” Sophie wrote.
“I was constructed in Atlanta on August 8, 1988, but I was translated into
Norwegian at the Norwegian Polytechnic on March 28, 1990.”
“Gosh!”
“I said you must talk in whole sentences.”
“I only said gosh!”
“I do not understand slang. I have a vocabulary of over 100,000 words, but the
nearest I can find to gosh is gospel.”