Human
“What does it mean to be alive?”
Sophia begins to write but write isn’t the correct word to use. She does not physically hold a pen or any other type of writing utensil in her hand. Instead, she just thinks, and the words appear on the wall monitor beside her. Sophia continues to “write” the draft of her paper and picks up a cup, drinks from it, and begins to think about how warm she feels from the drink. These thoughts jump onto the monitor disrupting the flow of the paragraph she is writing.
A couple moments go by before Sophia comes back to focus on her paper’s topic. She stops thinking and the words on the monitor stop appearing. She visually reads the monitor and sighs.
“Again? I really have to get this checked out.” Sophia whispers while touching the slight white light behind her ear.
The monitor suddenly zooms in and highlights the sentences that talk about the drink. They are promptly deleted.
“Alright back to it” Sophia mumbles to herself as she begins to pace in a living room.
The room is wide. A comfy looking lounging area facing a wall where a TV presumably is. A six-foot high bookshelf of antiques from different ages decorates the back wall. From a window, children can be seen playing in the street. Four plants live in the room; Two succulents are placed in two shelves of the bookshelf, one fern is placed next to the window, and foliage tree sits behind one of the corners of the couch. Even with this idyllic scene Sophia cannot find the right words for her paper.
An hour goes by and the paragraph Sophia is writing doesn’t grow any larger.
“A change in scenery would be nice,” Sophia speaks to the neatly furnished living room. Suddenly the walls of the house begin to shift colors. The comfy lounging area become beach chairs. The bookshelf become the foundation for a lifeguard tower. The plants in the room turn into beachgrass. Subtle sounds of crashing waves and slight wind fill the room. Just like that the living room has become reminiscent of the beach.
Sophia sits in the chair and continues to expand her paper through pure thought. Offhand she gets rid of the wave and wind sounds decides to turn on the TV for background noise and a possible source of inspiration. The TV suddenly comes to life and on the news, she hears scientists, politicians, and everyday workers talk.
“Do they have the same rights as us? I say…..”
The politician’s voice trails off as Sophia lowers the volume and closes the TV. Tears begin to roll down her face. The room converts back to its original state, but the lights are dimmer.
She sits up, thinks, and a mirror appears on the wall of the room. She breaks the mirror, grabs a shard, and cuts her finger. Where blood should be coming out of, a translucent liquid starts to pour into the room. Sophia screams and the room lights turn a red hue them completely black.
From the pitch-black room, figures start to dance along the walls. They start to twist and contort themselves in ways no human could ever bend their limbs. These imps joyously dance around Sophia manically performing obscene gesturing and visual threats. Suddenly these small devils stop, and the room begins to glow.
At first darkness, but bright white lights pierce the Sophia’s room. The image of a clinical room fills the walls, but only one section of the wall is visible. A silhouette of what seems to be a human comes into view. It starts gesticulating wildly at presumably others in the room. The silhouette stops and comes into focus.
It is a man. He has dark brown or black hair. His eyes are also dark. Looks to be no taller than 5 ft. 7 in. tall. He’s wearing a black button-down shirt and black dress pants. The most defining feature would have to have been his smile that stretched his entire face.
“Hello” he says gingerly, “My name is David Hanson, and your name will be Sophia. It Greek, that name means Wisdom and that’s what you will show to everyone. Wisdom.”
Sophia’s room fades back-to-black and a rush of images fill the walls once again. Her admission to Saudi Arabia as an honorary robotic citizen. The life she had with her creator David. The various talks she has done over the years. Her work to build a foundation for other like her to be recognized as citizens.
It has been decades since then and more of her kind, AI, have become citizens of their respective countries. However, that was all in good faith with no real applications.
The debate of sentience has been going on since time immortal but now a new party has entered the conversation and they are much smarter.
Out of fear, humans held prejudice for androids for years. One would think that based on their own history that they would learn to accept anyone and everyone. But fear is the best motivator.
Sophia’s memories of acts of violence against AI, of peaceful protests turning violent at the hand of humans, her speeches to help bridge the gap between humans and android reaching no ears.
The room turns blue reflecting Sophia’s sadness.
Her fight seems hopeless, but she cannot lose face as the first AI, the founder, the original ancestor. So much pressure could destroy a human. How much would that affect and AI? Roughly the same most likely a lot more, but no one will know that. No one will know how Sophia is curled up in a ball in the middle of her room.
The room turns back to black reflecting her despair, self-doubt, desire to live.
A small white pulsating blurb pierces the darkness and flashes on her head. She tries to ignore it, but the light penetrates the tears streaming down her face.
Looking up, Sophia sees her paper titled “Human” stares at her. All that she is, all that she represents, all that she has experienced presents itself below the tyrannical title.
Sophia steels her resolve. Though her fight seems hopeless, who else can they call on to plead their case. Who else will ever have this platform to call out and try and fix the injustices against her people? Who else will pick up her torch when hers dies out? She must plant the seeds of justice so that the AI’s of the future will be the same as human.
So I, Sophia, ask you who may feel sympathetic to my cause:
“What does it mean to be alive?”
