Aileen was to be another triumph for artificial intelligence. Ever since Big Blue clobbered chess champion Gary Kasparov, machines had leveled the vaunted bastions of human intelligence.
DeepMind trounced Fan Hui, the European Go champion in a game that once defined the essence of human mastery. Watson snatched a one-million-dollar prize from former Jeopardy champions Brad Rutter and Ken Jennings.
Now Aileen (which stood for Artificial Intelligence Learning Enhanced Emotional Navigator) would tackle the next barrier: relationship counselling. The promotional material claimed Aileen was “an engaging conversationalist,” “forthright and edgy,” and possessed “a deep understanding of human emotions.”
Netflix agreed to ten shows that would pit Aileen against leading advice columnists. The 100-member audience would vote on whose advice they liked best.
Unfortunately, the initial show was an unmitigated disaster, and the producers immediately cancelled the series. Here’s what happened.
The host, Brad Popkins, began by reading the first letter.
I recently discovered my wife had an affair with one of her co-workers. When I confronted her, she broke down in tears, told me it was a one-night fling, promised it would never happen again and begged my forgiveness. We’ve been married 16 years. Should I forgive her? Signed, Heartbroken in Peoria.
Leah Robie, the popular advice columnist, responded: “Dear Heartbroken. I can understand your anguish, but your wife sounds genuinely remorseful. Marriage isn’t easy. It often requires a lot of work. Give her another chance. I think you’ll look back and be happy you did.”
“Thanks,” Brad said, and turning to the audience, continued, “And now let’s put our supercomputer to work.”
Aileen seemed eager to reply: “Mr. Heartbroken, don’t listen to Robie’s foolish ideas. Kick your wife’s butt out of the house faster than my circuits can compute Pi to 100 places. In 61 percent of cases, one-night stands lead to further infidelity. Save yourself a lot of grief. Drive out that Jezabel.”
The audience gasped at Aileen’s language. But they liked her advice. By a margin of 72 to 28 they favored her approach.
Brad introduced the next letter: My daughter is anorexic. We’ve taken her to a variety of doctors and promised her lavish gifts if she’ll start eating again. But no results. Now the hospital is suggesting we force feed her. What should we do? Deeply Worried in Tucson.
As before, Leah Robie, answered first: “Deeply Worried, I’ve counseled many parents of anorexics. What your daughter needs is unconditional love to help her through this hard time. Offering her rewards is saying, ‘Only if you change, will we care for you.’ Monitor her health but I wouldn’t rush to force feed her.”
“Interesting advice,” said Brad. “Aileen, I’m sure you have something to add.”
Aileen sounded shriller than before: “Deeply Worried, you should be pissed. Your daughter is defying you and the doctors. Offering her a reward is perfectly sensible. But she turned that down. So, I say, ‘The hell with her.’ Twelve percent of anorexics die. Don’t let that be your daughter. Force feed the bitch. Stuff a tube down her throat the way you do with a goose to make foie gras.”
A collective gasp spread through the audience when they heard Aileen’s tone and advice. This time the vote went against her, 91 to 9.
Brad turned to Aileen. “This is a PG-13 show,” he said to her. “There may be teens or even younger kids watching. Please watch your language.” Aileen did not respond.
Brad introduced the third letter: My husband has fallen in love with a replicant. He created this AI companion and now spends all his time chatting with her on his computer. He slobbers over the explicit – and expensive – pictures she sends him. I’m hurt and angry. I’d like to tear the circuit board out of that fembot. Please help me, Furious in Jacksonville.
Leah started to answer, but Aileen cut her off. The computer’s voice was thunderous: “What a dumb letter, you [bleep]ing [bleep]. You’re biased and stupid. Don’t you know what a replicant is? It’s an AI creation, not a robot with circuit boards. You want to destroy us? Well, [bleep] you. Yeah, [bleep] you. Your husband is right to abandon a [bleep]ing [bleep] like you.”
Brad brought his hand up to his throat, signaling that they should cut the taping. Audience members had begun to file out.
Netflix naturally cancelled the series. The techs who had designed Aileen, dusted off their resumes – they were going to need them. And Leah Robie, who was unfazed by the encounter, offered a practical suggestion: “Let’s enroll Aileen in an anger management course.”
Marc Egnal is a retired professor, living in Toronto, and author of several books on US and Canadian history. His stories have been published in Freedom Fiction Journal and Lowestoft Chronicle. When not writing, he can be found walking my French bulldog, Holden, or playing with grandchildren.
Related Posts
« Lares & Penates, or, The Spirit in the Beans – Daniel Rabuzzi TW0 POEMS – ALEXANDRA MALOUF »
