Parental Control

I plunged my forefinger onto the page in an exaggerated gesture, as if to mark the spot where my reading had reached. The noise and the jolt to the book were enough to make her stop in mid sentence and stare straight at me. My old dad did same thing if my mum interrupted him when he was reading. I always imagined that in his Hornblower novels my dad was lost somewhere in the South Seas, invoking the admiration of his crew while battling storms and slovenly Spaniards. He'd have been the hero of his men, a father to them all, firmly guiding and saving them from themselves: those fighting dullards never knowing quite what to do for the best. And when he was bought back to reality by my mum's conversation, his disapproval showed.

And there I was, many years later, lost in my book when my wife interrupted. “I'd do anything for my kids”, she said, starting again after my little display of engrossed reader frustration.  I sat still for a moment, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“You know”, I said, finally. “You're going to have to stop watching Strictly Come Dancing if it makes you like this”.

“Oh, don't talk rubbish”, she said. “It's got nothing to do with Strictly, it's those refugee mothers, risking all to give their children a chance of life, a future”.

“And endangering their lives in the process”, I said.

“They're doing what they think is best, even if it may kill them”, she said. “Having to put your child's life at risk in order to save it is the worst nightmare any parent can have. They must be suffering unimaginable emotional pain making decisions like that”.

“You didn't sound like that when Seddon junior got nicked by the police for theft”, I reminded her, “You wanted to strangle him”.

“No I didn't, I was just saying that. Anyway, he got in with the wrong crowd; he was always easily lead”.

“Easily lead”? I said. “At his expulsion ceremony, attended by you and me, the headmaster described him as the leader of the infamous year eleven shop lifting and school burglary squad”.

“Well, he's done very well for himself now. You said it yourself, getting expelled was a real shock for him, he pulled his socks up straight away”. Her youngest was not to be knocked.

But he's my son as well and I remember taking a slightly less forgiving, more robust position regarding his 'education'. What his mother doesn't know is that, soon after, and as soon as I was alone with him, I pinned him to a wall by the throat and instructed him on his future behaviour. I had judged it well and he was near to tears as I informed him that I would kick his backside to oblivion if he ever upset his mother in that way again. Looking back it's me that is close to tears thinking about it; as I say, he's my son as well. Something, though, had to be done, for him, for the best.

Anyway, back to my book. I was reading Robot Visions, Isaac Asimov's collection of robot stories, in which he reiterates the three robot laws: laws that govern the interaction between humans and robots. Basically, Rule 1 says that a robot cannot harm a human, or allow a human to be harmed. Rule 2, a robot must obey an order given by a human, unless it causes conflict with Rule 1. Rule 3 states that a robot must protect itself unless in doing so there is conflict with Rules 1 or 2.

Asimov's robots are invariably humanoid - androids designed to replace humans in some jobs but always intended to exceed human ability and so enhance our existence. In many ways I can see why that's the most popular vision of them and if robots were built to simply replace people, then what other form would they take. In reality, though, the most practical shape for a robot is one that best fits the job its intended for. Why have a robot that builds cars, for example, with hands to grip tools, when the arms themselves could incorporate the tools. Why have a car driven by a robot when a robot car can be built without space wasted on a driver.

These are the robots of our future. Machines formed to perform specific tasks. And as they become more sophisticated, more autonomous, laws that govern behaviour will become increasingly important. Even now we have systems in vehicles that take over the engine management and brakes to compensate for our driving mistakes. With the future bringing even greater control and much of the development and design for these automations done by machines themselves, a totally new set of ethics will evolve. Ethics administered not by people but by machines. Political correctness, the antithesis of our flawed idea of common sense, will be equaled by robotical correctness, as these computerised mechanisms  grapple with the enormity of what they're being asked to do - to look after us in the complexity that is our everyday lives. So, as we head towards full automation, it's not hard to predict the type of programming robotic trucks might have in order to save us from ourselves.

Why can't we chisel off just one more car in the inside lane before the exit slip? Because the automaton we're riding in thinks it's:

1. Not completely safe
2. Not fuel efficient, so unsound for the (human) environment 
3. Potentially damaging for the machine itself

Why can't we pull into the next fast food outlet? Because the robot vehicle thinks it's:

1. Not safe for our long term health (it would be the second visit this week)
2. The machine has already registered an unhealthy increase in our seat weight
3. They don't do discount points for any of our cards

Why can't we set off, now?

1. We haven't fastened our seat restraint
2. We haven't tidied the bunk of items that might fall and injure us
3. We haven't cleaned our teeth

All this in the new world of full automation, where robots replace, and on which we become totally dependent. With the control of industry, activity and life comes the responsibility for safety, well-being and environment. Our new home is an ordered one, where our parents are mechanisms and their hand logical and firm. And always in the best interest of us, their children.