I have a deep affection for robots. All sizes and shapes. I long for the day when artificial intelligence that is indistinguishable from a human’s comes into existence. Imagine the conversations with a sentient robot, what insights we will gain about ourselves from having a third party to contemplate them with.
I also fear the hatred that other humans would pile onto our creations…so many will see them as lesser than, as soulless slaves. And therein lies danger. This poem is inspired by Issac Asimov’s “Caves of Steel.”
There is a sound in the
echoing chambers
of the city,
like that of small hammers
beating on crystal vases,
or roughly handled ceramic
mugs thrown against walls.
Every day this thunder radiates
into every level and every
position of humanity, from
the bathrooms where eyes are
not allowed, to the grime
and heat of the air
cyclers.
Above us is fear of the unknown,
below us is mother and father,
brown dirt and bedrock.
Abounding are machines that
flash copper smiles and whose
innocent red photocells
look out at you with nothing
registering but the First Law.
It goes on and on like this, day
in and out. Supple skin on a carbon
frame does not make a man.
Or flowing positrons in
iridium give you a soul.
Hollowed ground, caves of steel
reprocessing for our meal;
the machines to us enslaved,
like ticking clockwork, graved.
In the haven of the staid,
now created, skinned and flayed;
stands the living, machined-
ROBOT AND MAN
R. Daneel Olivaw.
The Numinous Cosmos 