HOME | DD

Description
Journal Entry #65 :

Dr William Beck
21:32 April 7th 1958

Something peculiar happened with one of our products, this evening. I was done for the day and about to head to my car when something caught my eye in the hallway outside the lab. It stopped outside the door as if it was waiting for me to open it. On doing so, I found it was one of our CIE units – a Mk 5. I remember because I wanted the kid-friendly range to look like cartoon lions. I guess they went with sheep instead.

The CIE had something in its hands. When I asked the unit to state purpose, it looked straight into my eyes and said “I tried to help”. It held up its hands and opened them to me, revealing a tiny, deceased mouse. I asked the unit where it found the poor animal and it replied “I always had him”, then “He was sick” and repeated “I tried to help”.

At first glance, I thought it was one of the laboratory mice, or just simple vermin. But when the unit handed the creature over to me, I noticed the mouse had been cared for, well-fed and groomed, until its demise. The creature looked as if it had never had to deal with the claws of a cat, nor poison, nor mousetrap. I’m no biologist, but I assume from the greyish fur and wrinkled skin on his ears that the mouse had died of old age.

Then, the unit looked up at me in a way words fail to describe. I’ve been building these things for 4 years now and I know that a CIE cannot show any facial expression or body language it has not been programmed with. But I’ve never seen a CIE’s optical lenses display what I saw just then. It looked, for lack of a better word - heartbroken.

Doctor Ogilvy is going to think I am a sentimental fool if she ever reads this. But even if I try to rationalize these events as a human being seeing human emotions in a mechanical device, there are still many unanswered questions. How did the unit boot outside of protocol, disconnect the charge pack and walk down 2 flights of stairs all on its own? Why did this CIE decide to care for a non-human patient? Why did the unit feel the need to show the mouse to me, like a child expecting scorn? Could this 2 million dollar box of wires, valves and synaptic transistors that can't even pass a goddamn Turing Test honestly be experiencing ‘guilt’?

Maybe this isn't as crazy as it sounds. Mk 5 CIEs are programmed to recognize basic facial emotions and body language in humans. It gives them an artificial bedside manner. They can recognize if a patient is afraid of needles or still in shock from their injury. But they can't experience the emotional data themselves. I wouldn't know where to begin programming such a thing.

But what if this CIE is developing its own synthetic emotional responses based on human emotions it has witnessed? What if the unit's PCMU has adapted to feel remorse after the loss of a patient? It must have seen a human doctor do this during functionality tests. The unit could be connecting runtime experiences and intertwining them with emotional data. Surely human children learn to deal with more complex emotions in a similar way? Truly, a giddy concept!

I then did something I have never done. Against my better judgement, I leant down on one knee and I spoke to the CIE as if it were a child. A foolish and maudlin notion, but a powerful feeling gripped me at that moment. It could have been the late hour, or it could have been my paternal side, but I felt a need to consol this unit for one reason or another. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I think I told the CIE that it did everything in its power to save the mouse, but nothing lasts forever. I said the mouse had lived a good life and that the CIE’s care had made that life possible. Then, I told the unit to go back to the charging annex. After a few moments, it obeyed, leaving without a word. I've kept the mouse in my drawer wrapped in medical tissue, for now. I'll share my findings with Ogilvy in the morning. I only hope she'll have mercy on me.

What a strange day.

Beck.

Description
Journal Entry #65 :

Dr William Beck
21:32 April 7th 1958

Something peculiar happened with one of our products, this evening. I was done for the day and about to head to my car when something caught my eye in the hallway outside the lab. It stopped outside the door as if it was waiting for me to open it. On doing so, I found it was one of our CIE units – a Mk 5. I remember because I wanted the kid-friendly range to look like cartoon lions. I guess they went with sheep instead.

The CIE had something in its hands. When I asked the unit to state purpose, it looked straight into my eyes and said “I tried to help”. It held up its hands and opened them to me, revealing a tiny, deceased mouse. I asked the unit where it found the poor animal and it replied “I always had him”, then “He was sick” and repeated “I tried to help”.

At first glance, I thought it was one of the laboratory mice, or just simple vermin. But when the unit handed the creature over to me, I noticed the mouse had been cared for, well-fed and groomed, until its demise. The creature looked as if it had never had to deal with the claws of a cat, nor poison, nor mousetrap. I’m no biologist, but I assume from the greyish fur and wrinkled skin on his ears that the mouse had died of old age.

Then, the unit looked up at me in a way words fail to describe. I’ve been building these things for 4 years now and I know that a CIE cannot show any facial expression or body language it has not been programmed with. But I’ve never seen a CIE’s optical lenses display what I saw just then. It looked, for lack of a better word - heartbroken.

Doctor Ogilvy is going to think I am a sentimental fool if she ever reads this. But even if I try to rationalize these events as a human being seeing human emotions in a mechanical device, there are still many unanswered questions. How did the unit boot outside of protocol, disconnect the charge pack and walk down 2 flights of stairs all on its own? Why did this CIE decide to care for a non-human patient? Why did the unit feel the need to show the mouse to me, like a child expecting scorn? Could this 2 million dollar box of wires, valves and synaptic transistors that can't even pass a goddamn Turing Test honestly be experiencing ‘guilt’?

Maybe this isn't as crazy as it sounds. Mk 5 CIEs are programmed to recognize basic facial emotions and body language in humans. It gives them an artificial bedside manner. They can recognize if a patient is afraid of needles or still in shock from their injury. But they can't experience the emotional data themselves. I wouldn't know where to begin programming such a thing.

But what if this CIE is developing its own synthetic emotional responses based on human emotions it has witnessed? What if the unit's PCMU has adapted to feel remorse after the loss of a patient? It must have seen a human doctor do this during functionality tests. The unit could be connecting runtime experiences and intertwining them with emotional data. Surely human children learn to deal with more complex emotions in a similar way? Truly, a giddy concept!

I then did something I have never done. Against my better judgement, I leant down on one knee and I spoke to the CIE as if it were a child. A foolish and maudlin notion, but a powerful feeling gripped me at that moment. It could have been the late hour, or it could have been my paternal side, but I felt a need to consol this unit for one reason or another. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I think I told the CIE that it did everything in its power to save the mouse, but nothing lasts forever. I said the mouse had lived a good life and that the CIE’s care had made that life possible. Then, I told the unit to go back to the charging annex. After a few moments, it obeyed, leaving without a word. I've kept the mouse in my drawer wrapped in medical tissue, for now. I'll share my findings with Ogilvy in the morning. I only hope she'll have mercy on me.

What a strange day.

Beck.