An imaginary conversation with Elon Musk at a pub in Yorkshire.
Elon Musk suggests that we should merge with Artificial Intelligence to become ‘AI-human symbiotes’. An interesting concept. I find it’s always good to know what sort of plan these futurists are cooking up. So, what is the reason for this Terminator-esque altercation to our genetic makeup and biological humanity? Well Musk says it is the only way to prevent the inevitable robot uprising…
I like to imagine the following conversation to happen over several pints at the pub.
Under the low and soporific ambience of a candlelit pub in West Yorkshire, a man sits proclaiming with fervency what he thinks is ‘humanity’s most exceptional future.’ The man’s name is Elon Musk, and he is a Futurist. Rather like a philosopher would address the Hoi Polloi in an Ancient Greek Agora, or a travelling salesman slinging vitality tonics to a dusty frontier township, Musk gesticulates to the various faceless punters who sift glumly through the establishment.
“People of West Yorkshire! It is time to face the truth. We must become one with technology. We must meld ourselves with it and become AI-human symbiotes.”
Some heads turn to face the man who has now stood up. People aren’t all that used to anyone other than the barman addressing the whole pub. They sit there mumbling in confusion.
A voice comes from near the back, “Why’s that then?!”
“Ah, my good man what an inquisitive mind you must have. Well let me tell you. The future will be a cold and heartless place with danger lurking around every corner from giant robot spiders and the like.” This is received with a few raised eyebrows and a quiet yelp from a concerned looking woman sipping her Chardonnay. “However, if we were to merge with artificial intelligence then we could prevent this inevitable robot uprising!”
Murmurs fizzle through the place. A man sitting close to Musk says, “Ah, well that’s intriguing. So there is going to be a robot uprising, is there?”
“Oh yeah, no doubt about it.” Musk replies.
“I see, seems a bit drastic dunnit? So er, who builds these robots?” Inquires the man.
“Yeah! Who builds these robots?” Rings a voice from the back.
“Well, we do!”
“Hmm, right. So, you’re saying that you’re building something that will eventually enslave you and become the dominant lifeforms on Earth?” The first man says again.
“I suppose you could say that” Musk laughs.
The barman chimes in as he polishes a wine glass, “Seems like a poorly thought out plan, Elon mate. Why don’t you just stop your obsession with robotics?”
“Preposterous my good sir. It’s too late, you can’t prevent the incessant and rampant desire for technological advancements.” Musk waves his martini at the barman.
“So, iRobot taught us nothing then?” Says a voice from someone. People around the pub start chuckling.
“Ha! Nice one Darren,” coos another.
“Well, that’s why we must fuse with AI too prevent such a thing ever happening…”
“Elon, Elon, Elon…” It’s the man sitting closest this time, “I know you’re a rich man with far too much time on your hands. You have five nationalities, and five test tube babies inseminated in a petri dish, and frankly I’m impressed. You set your mind to it and you did it, good for you! But, it seems like you’re just trolling humanity. You’re saying, there is going to be a robot uprising and if you can’t beat ’em join ‘em?”
“Yes, it is the best outcome in the prophetic battle between humans and machines.” Musk says with not a hint of irony.
“Oh yeah. I think I read about that one in the bible.” People begin laughing again. “Don’t seem to remember it ending too well.”
At this point Musk has lost most of his audience. But Elon Musk is not a man to back down. So, he goes to the bar, gets himself another martini, and digresses into a diatribe regarding the supreme benefits of merging biological life and artificial intelligence. The barman has to listen as it is his job.
“For instance, we could improve the neural link between the cortex and your digital extension of yourself (I think he’s referring to our useless and flailing limbs), which already exists but just has a bandwidth issue.” Musk says excitedly. The barman nods politely. He does a sweep around collecting empties and thinks to himself. Ah, so the problem with humanity is not that we live in a system which forces us to exploit others in order to gain, or that we are constantly assaulted with divisive rhetoric from corrupt politicians who are trained in the ol’ bait and switch. Or that we are destroying the planet and ourselves in the relentless pursuit of money and power. Or that education is designed to make us ignorant, or that drugs are designed to make us ill. Or that we suffer from a general inability to think for ourselves and feel permanently plunged into disarray and confusion. No, the problem with humanity is that we just don’t have enough bandwidth! Okay then, we’ve figured it out, move along people. Nothing to see here. We just have to eventually eradicate our human biology.
Elon’s moved onto his third martini, and in his alcohol-induced bravado he suggests that such a scenario would, “prevent an evil dictator AI because anyone who wants to take part can become an AI human-symbiote.”
Again the barman is courteous, he smiles and says, “Okay, yeah, interesting”. Still unsure about the whole human-symbiote thing, but he can think of one problem, at least initially. One would assume becoming a transformer would be ludicrously expensive, so would only be available to a small percentage of humanity — the impeccably rich. Would these people then not just assume their normal role of domineering activities like the enforcing of debt-based slavery, but now be super-androids capable of bending steel rods and completing a rubics cube with their toes?
An hour later, and Elon is steaming. He’s necked a couple of Jaegerbombs and a TVR and is now in full unadulterated future-mode. He says that humans will eventually need to achieve symbiosis with digital super-intelligence in order to cope with the advancing world. The barman looks around at the centuries old pub. A couple of the regulars seem like they’ve been there so long they’ve been thatched into the walls like some old Baroque tapestry. They’re there wondering if the scones they bought last Tuesday are stale while Elon acts like the world will just advance on its own as if it is a sovereign entity capable of rendering humans obsolete, and that the only thing for us to do is adapt or die. Elon orders another TVR. The barman thinks maybe the world is moving too quickly.
He tells Elon, “I think the fumes may have gone to your head, pal. Technological advances require human creation. Surely, if we don’t instigate the rapid altering of our reality then we won’t have to play catch up to the robots we created?”
Elon waves his hand dismissing him while he plugs in his iPhone implant and calls a driverless Uber to transfer him to his flying-saucer to fly him to his gilded mansion on Mars. The barman feels somewhat dejected at his dismissal, but hey-yo. I guess a man living so fervently in the future can’t possibly deal with the frivolities of the present, he thinks.
Must explain why he didn’t even pay for the bar tab.
I have no problem with Elon Musk, or technology, or Futurism. I don’t find his vision of the future hard to imagine, and he is obviously an intelligent man, but I do think he is another eccentric billionaire peddling as a modern day soothsayer, and it isn’t surprising that we enamour him. It is a megalithic curiosity of ours to ‘see into the future’…
If Musk isn’t a soothsayer then he is the pied piper playing a highly synthesised jingle on the electric-flute, slowly tantalising us into a life of three-dimensional nanotube lattices, artificial food, and a software based humanity where consciousness is uploaded to the cloud, where we no longer become ill, rather our brain gets infected with a computer virus and we malfunction. At times, I wonder if the future will be no more than a Hollywood blockbuster, in which a great apocalyptic battle is waged between super-human cyborgs and the machines…
Stay tuned to find out!
