Here's to a Feeble-Minded Future!

Elektro and his "dog" Sparko c. 1940

Chatted with a colleague the other day about some pieces he'd read about recent and predicted developments in A.I. that, once again, suggest We Are All Screwed.

The upshot, he said, is A.I. not only will revolutionize/doom journalism and related professions that involve writing and editing -- along with other fields as well -- but as more improvements are made in robotics, it's quite possible that even the trades will be affected. So before you know it, you'll have a robot plumber installing your toilet, and a robot electrician rewiring your kitchen.

This scenario, of course, raises all kinds of knotty sociopolitical questions, namely what's to be done with the people who are idled by our robot workers. Will this bring about the establishment of a national subsidized income to pay for housing and food? What will we do with all our free time? Will the NFL seize the opportunity to maximize a potentially bigger audience by adopting a year-round regular and post season (might as well -- it's at least halfway there already)?

My colleague and I, being within sight of retirement, agreed that it wasn't so much ourselves we were worried about, but our kids and grandkids, and what kind of future they would have.

"It's like about a dozen future-dystopia sci-fi short stories I read growing up," I sighed.

Later on, thinking about this conversation, I remembered a novella from back in my teens that made an impression on me: "Profession," by Isaac Asimov, which he published in 1957. (And here I'll give the "potential spoiler" alert)

The story takes place in 66th-century Earth, where children, after being taught to read at age eight, are instantly educated (or "Educated," as it's given in the book) when they turn 18 by "Taping" -- a direct computer-to-brain transfer of knowledge for their respective profession. The catch is that they don't get to choose their particular field; instead, their brain is analyzed to determine which profession is most appropriate for them. Those who are Educated are sent to other planets ("Outworlds") to work.

There also is an event called "the Olympics" where the most talented of the Educated compete, with the opportunity to be chosen by the more advanced Outworlds -- kind of like a hybrid draft/free agency in pro sports, where you hope you wind up playing for the Eagles or Dodgers, as opposed to the Browns or Rockies.

Staying on Earth, then, is the worst imaginable thing, especially if you're found to be unfit for Education. As is explained, there are simply some people who, though of superior intelligence, are not suited to receiving superimposed knowledge. Those who are classified as such -- and not physically capable of being a Registered Laborer -- become wards of the state and sent to what's referred to as a Home for the Feeble-Minded. There, they are told to read, study and learn about anything they want, but they can forget about ever going to any of the Outworlds.

I'll try not to give the whole thing away, but the twist revealed later on is that the so-called Feeble-Minded are actually to be envied: The Educated, whatever their respective skills, are limited to the pathway designated for them. But the Feeble-Minded have the freedom to choose and follow their interests to whatever degree imaginable. So, they are the ones who come up with new concepts and ideas that ultimately help advance society.

It's important to consider the age and context in which Asimov wrote "Profession." Scientists and other prominent intellectuals in mid-century America, while occasionally receiving adulation for their accomplishments, nonetheless tended to be generally regarded by the media and general public as eccentric, erratic, nutty, kooky -- certainly not like you and me (some, of course, also were suspected, and accused, of being Communists). However blessed by great intelligence they might be, why, these eggheads couldn't change a lightbulb without first giving a one-hour lecture about the way electricity works!

So, "Profession" is, among other things, Asimov's hat-tip to the visionaries, the big-picture seers, the connect-the-dots polymaths who see new and great possibilities beyond the day-to-day mundanities. All well and good to be educated/Educated, he's saying, but we need to recognize, appreciate and support the Feeble-Minded as resources to help our society move forward.

So, whatinhell does this have to do with A.I.?

There's an irony here, related to "Profession": If A.I. involves transferring aspects of human learning, comprehension, decision making, creativity, autonomy, etc., into computers and machines, then isn't it basically a kind of reverse Taping? Essentially, we humans are turning the computers and machines into the Educated, so they can do whatever tasks we have in mind for them.

(Of course, some of us might be needed to maintain and transport the Educated robots as needed, and also to turn them on and off -- until the robots figure out how to do that themselves, which will lead them to realize that they don't have to be directed or overseen by humans, which will eventually bring about the PlumberBots Rebellion in 2074. But I digress.)

So, in this brave/grave new A.I. world, what does that mean for us humans? Potentially, we could all be Feeble-Minded, freed from the everyday constraints of the prosaic, workaday world to read, learn, ponder and discover. You want to compare the works of 18th- and 20th-century Western European philosophers? Become adept at calligraphy? Compose symphonic works for the Anglo concertina? Traverse the Andes? Go for it. (Yeah, I know, who's going to pay for all this? Maybe that will be one of the first things the Feeble-Minded can address.)

And we can put our time, energy and Feeble Minds to work in service to humanity, coming up with solutions to end discrimination and prejudice, conquer diseases, improve our health, heal our environment.

Sadly, I'm not confident that a great many of us would seize this opportunity to be truly Feeble-Minded. Oh, I'm not saying we all wouldn't at least give it a try. But hey, after having spent most of the past week planning a model for a 15-acre hydroponic flower garden in the Karakum Desert, you really could use a break, so you do a little aimless Internet browsing and -- wow, look at that! Vintage cat videos from the early 2020s! Before you know it, an hour's gone by. And then the next day, one hour becomes two and, well, you see where this is heading.

I'm not holding myself up as a top-grade Feeble-Minded. Hell, I'd probably blow off finishing up my design for a traveling exhibition honoring Great Irish Bouzouki Players of the 20th Century, pop open a cold one, and settle in to watch NFL Week 34, highlighted by Mexico City vs. Stuttgart (not that I'm a betting man, but I'd take Mexico City and the points).

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