Robots Can Do Your Job, and Do It Better
Jacob sat down in his plush, red chair and picked up the magazine that lay atop the pine coffee table to his left. He began to read the first article featured: “How A.I. Will Impact Your Job” while absent-mindedly reaching his left hand to feel for his coffee cup.
The paragraph began:
If you believe that work will fulfill your passions and desires, consider whether a robot could do your job. Is it comforting to imagine your complex human emotions and needs being sated by work that a non-sentient robot could also handle? If so, there’s a chance you are already depressive.
Just as Jacob’s fingertips had begun to fondle the coffee mug, he shuddered while reading this sentence and knocked the mug and its contents to the ground. It crept across the near-new, carefully curated, hand-woven and auburn carpet. Coffee flowed in between the stitching.
Jacob and his wife Janice had spent nearly two months finding the right carpet, near obsessing over color, design, organic fabric, and fair trade labor certification until settling on the one now in their living room.
He stared in horror. Not at the carpet, but at the magazine article. He continued to read fervently.
Humans no longer need to work. Yet they do. The desire to is a vestige in human circuitry, a remnant of evolution that was hardwired millennia ago. Those who survived were the ones who could move. And so one moved.
Survival instincts led to sexual desire. Survival instincts led to a desire to work. Movement sparked evolutionary redundancy in which to move would stimulate endorphins.
The relationship between survival, sex, and work was one-directional until humans developed emotions, which made these relationships, for the first time, bi-directional. Sex was no longer for survival alone. Humans added meaning to a primal act. Work was no longer about movement to survive, it became a means of exercising our passions.
Humans are a unique species in that they always search for meaning in actions. Mammals, machines, and mites do not share this need. They act on impulse without question.
Jacob shifted in his seat, breathed deeply, and continued reading. The coffee had begun to stain the carpet. He paid it no mind. The end of the article held the biggest surprise of all.
While this article may seem human, it was actually produced by a machine. New algorithms, developed by the MIT Research Lab, allowed us to upload thousands of my articles and interviews for for analysis by a new kind of AI.
My writing was analyzed and internalized over the course of one week. Afterward, we gave it a writing prompt: “Near-sentient computing and its effect on the workforce.”
A mere two hours later, the article you now read had been produced. The writing was only slightly modified to add a touch of imperfection.
When Jacob had finished reading, he remained sitting for nearly an hour, deep in contemplation.
Visions of machines performing surgery appeared in his mind. Demented surgeons with mechanical talons wielding surgical tools, operating in an empty building.
He imagined schooling being replaced by virtual reality teachers and classrooms. Children would learn at home with a simulated school experience viewed via headset. Real life interaction with peers and superiors would be artfully controlled in a zero-risk environment.
Companies would analyze consumer behavior with AI to ideate products of the future. Human ingenuity would cease. Everything would be distilled to raw analysis and pure calculation.
He foresaw sleeping humans traveling in self driving vehicles to jobs that no longer required their services. They would merely be there to ensure the machines were operating without error. That is, until, they could self repair.
Human companies would fail because they would no longer be necessary. Passion would no longer fuel business. Identities would have to be forged outside of work. Leaving one’s home would become an optional endeavor.
Jacob rose and walked to the kitchen to get a sponge and seltzer. He lumbered back to the living room and began scrubbing the carpet. He was not actively aware of his body. He was only his thoughts.
He heard movement by the front door. Janice entered carrying some groceries while chatting on her cell phone.
Hi(!), she mimed with wide eyes to Jacob in between conversation.
As a defendant, every bit of information I can have is helpful, she said. Where did Peter grow up, what were his interests, what was his income, who were his friends, what was his favorite food, where did he go out. Everything. You never know what detail might provide the angle we need to help out your son. Thanks for your time Mrs. Arterson, we’ll chat soon.
She hung up the phone and eyed Jacob cleaning up the carpet.
Oh no, she cried. Her eyes were wide with real emotion this time. What happened? And on our new carpet. My god. Seltzer. We need seltzer.
I’ve got it, said Jacob. Not to worry. New client you were chatting with?
Yes, said Janice. Mrs. Arterson’s son Peter, who’s thirty years old, was recently charged with theft and destruction of private property. Confidential property at that. He broke into a previous place of employment, stealing several hard drives and smashing an entire office full of computers into the ground with a fireman axe.
Sounds like he was trying to conceal something, said Jacob.
Maybe, she said. But it’s not my business to know in this case. The less I know about true motive, the better. I need to assume innocence and use any tools at my disposal to help him.
What company was he stealing from, said Jacob.
It was a Research Lab, actually. Based in MIT, she said.
Jacob stopped scrubbing. MIT, he said. Did you read that article? He pointed to the magazine, now opened flat against the lounge chair, as if it were cursed and not to be touched. His finger shook slightly while in the air.
