Page 57 of Fake It For Glory

JENSEN

As the meal drew to a close, I realized that our conversation had been dominated by discussions about Lox and my vision for its future. What struck me as very refreshing was Merida’s response to the topic. Normally, when I talked about my program, people tended to smile, nod, and offer effusive praise for my innovative ideas and incredible mind. But Merida was different. She was asking critical questions, expressing uncertainty, and challenging my perspectives. I loved that she wasn’t afraid to say it to me. She was fierce. She was not going to just accept anything at face value.

And I couldn’t help but relish every moment of it.

In Merida, I had found someone who wasn’t content to simply accept my ideas at face value. She was willing to dig deeper. She had questions. A lot of questions and she wasn’t going to accept some generic response. If and when it was time to go public with Lox beyond the assistant capability, I wanted her to be the one to test our marketing campaigns. She wasn’t going to hold back. Her skepticism was a welcome departure from the usual responses I encountered.

I had always believed in the importance of critical thinking. I dealt with plenty of skepticism, but the resistance to my AI was more about fearing change. Merida’s willingness to challenge me only fueled my excitement, and I couldn’t wait to engage in more thought-provoking discussions with her in the days to come. She was the kind of person that made me think.

As the evening wore on, our glasses of wine seemed to multiply, and our conversation about AI grew more intense. It wasn’t an angry exchange, but rather a heated one, filled with passion and conviction. Merida expressed her concerns about AI, asserting that it was leading humanity in the wrong direction.

“I like the idea of AI,” she finally conceded. “I really do, but in a world rife with division and destruction, I believe there is one crucial element AI could never provide.”

I tilted my head, genuinely curious. “And what’s that?” I asked.

“Empathy,” she replied, her voice carrying the weight of her convictions. “Empathy is needed to weigh more than just facts and figures. What if a highway cuts right through a memorial of some sort because it’s efficient but it’s not taking into consideration the human element?”

I nodded slowly, pondering her words. “Well, I have empathy,” I stated.

Merida shrugged. “Me too, but how does your empathy help AI? Most humans have empathy. That’s why we’re human and AI isn’t.”

I leaned forward, trying to convey my point. “Lox is me,” I explained. “Essentially, it’s my brain written in code. My intentions. My desire to help. Isn’t that enough empathy for you?”

She sighed, and her response was laced with a sense of resignation. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

Her words lingered in the air, and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the ethical and moral questions surrounding the development and deployment of AI. Our conversation had taken an unexpected turn. She wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t heard before. It just hit different when she said it. She was not going to back down without making me see her point of view. I did understand her concerns, but I had already weighed them into my tech. I was certain I was on the right path.

“AI might excel at offering solutions to practical needs, such as booking therapy appointments or setting up schedules, but it’s incapable of addressing something deeper, something residing in the very core of human existence.”

“Empathy,” I said.

“Yes, but it’s more than that. Look at people nowadays. You probably don’t ride the subway, but it’s already like sitting with a bunch of drones. Everyone is looking at their phones. No one talks to each other. No one notices if someone is sad or suffering. We’re losing our ability to connect with each other on a fundamental level, and I fear that AI will only exacerbate that problem. If we don’t even have to call a human to schedule a doctor’s appointment, that’s another human connection taken away.”

Her words hit me like a punch in the gut. She was right. AI was about efficiency and practicality, but it lacked the emotional depth that made us human. As much as I believed in the potential of Lox, I couldn’t ignore the fact that it could never truly understand human emotion. It was just a machine, after all.

“I see your point,” I said slowly. “But what do you suggest we do? We can’t just stop developing AI altogether. Even if it scares the shit out of people, it’s good. It’s going to make lives better.”

Merida leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not saying you should stop developing AI. But you need to be more conscious of how the population of the world uses it. We need to make sure that we don’t lose sight of what makes us people. We need to make sure that we use AI to enhance our lives, not replace the things that make us human.”

I nodded, thinking about her words. “So, what do you suggest I do?”

Merida leaned forward, excitement creeping into her voice. “Is there a way to incorporate emotional intelligence into AI? Can you create machines that can understand human emotions and respond to them appropriately? You would need to make sure they don’t replace human connections, but rather enhance them.”

I furrowed my brow, mulling over her suggestion. It was a daunting task, but it was also intriguing. If we could create machines that could understand human emotions, it could revolutionize the way we interact with technology. It could make it more human-like, more relatable.

“I think you might be onto something,” I said slowly. “But it would require a complete overhaul of the way we approach AI development. It would require us to focus not only on efficiency, but also on empathy and emotional connection.”

Merida nodded, a smile spreading across her face. “Exactly. You need to make sure that AI doesn’t just understand human emotions, but also responds to them in a way that is appropriate and sensitive. It’s not just about making machines that can do more, it’s about making machines that can connect with humans on an emotional level.”

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement at her suggestion. It was a challenge, but it was also an opportunity to push the boundaries of what AI could do. To create machines that were not just efficient but also empathetic and emotionally intelligent.

“I think we can do this,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “It won’t be easy, but it’s a challenge worth taking on. I might be able to do that, but don’t you think that might scare people?”

“How?”

“Having a computer know when you are sad or to talk to you like it loves you?”

“Imagine you’re an elderly shut-in,” she said. “You have no one to talk to day after day. A friendly voice would go a long way to making someone feel a little better.”