Mind Crimes

Does real Greta know that her home automation comes at the cost of a suffering sentience? I would like to believe that Smartelligence’s customers do not know the true nature of the device, that the company is deceiving them, and that virtual Greta is denied direct communication to enforce this secret. But I can’t see that working across an entire market. Given thousands of Cookies and thousands of users, somehow, somewhere, the secret would get out. One of the AIs would use song choices, or Morse code, or any of its actuators to communicate in code, and one of the users would figure it out, leak the secret, and bring the company crashing down.

And then there’s the final scene in the episode, in which we see police officers torturing one of the Cookies, and it is clear that they’re aware. It would be a stretch to think that just the police are in on it with Smartelligence, so we have to accept that everyone knows.

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This asshole.

That they are aware means that—as Matt has done—Greta, the officers, and all Smartelligence customers have told themselves that “it’s just code” and, therefore, OK to subjugate, to casually cause to suffer. In case it’s not obvious, that’s like causing human suffering and justifying it by telling yourself that those people are “just atoms.” If you find that easy to do, you’re probably a psychopath.

But…but…isn’t it just code? Sure, it seems to suffer, but couldn’t that suffering be fake? We see an example of this in the delightfully provocative show The Good Place, when in Season 01 Episode 07, “The Eternal Shriek,” the protagonists have to reboot Janet, an anthropomorphized assistant software, but run into her “failsafe” measure. To make sure that she is not rebooted by accident, when someone approaches the reboot button, Janet pleads convincingly for her life. In the scene below, she begs Eleanor, “Nonono, please! Wait, wait. I have kids. I have three beautiful children. Tyler, Emma, and little tiny baby Phillip. Look at Tyler! Tyler has asthma but he is battling it like a champ. Look at him.”

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It’s only when Eleanor backs down that Janet smiles and reminds her, “Again, I’m not human. This is a stock photo of the crowd at the Nickelodeon Kids Choice awards.” While Janet may be cognizant of, and frank with her users about, the fakeness of the suffering, maybe virtual Greta is doing the same fake pleading. She’s just programmed to never admit that it’s fake.

This taps into a problem known as the Philosophical Zombie, or P-Zombie problem. How can we tell the difference, the problem goes, between something that fakes sentience perfectly, and something that is actually sentient? It’s not an easy problem to tease apart. And as AI gets more sophisticated, it will both get better at faking us out, and get closer to actual sentience. Fortunately (?) in the case of this episode, though, the answer is clear. The AI is a copy of a real sentience, complete with memories, conscious experience, qualia, and the capacity to suffer. For purposes of understanding this diegesis, she starts sentient, and suffering. And real Greta knows this. And is OK with this.

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For toast.

Props to Black Mirror for making this dark story even darker.

It’s sadly no surprise that humans are capable of adopting any shallow excuse to subjugate sentient beings as long as they get something out of it. Here I’m thinking of slavery. Of fascism. Of war. Of the 1%. (The list goes on.) “Woke” is hard. Woke is not the natural state of things. But to have permanent suffering for such a petty thing like having your floor be the right temperature and your toast be the right shade of brown…it’s just monstrous.

On top of that, this story underscores the role capitalism plays in enabling that subjugation. Smartelligence is in the business of providing obfuscating layers of technology between users and the suffering they are causing. Their interfaces use graphics instead of renderings to paint the AIs as constructed objects, neutral language like “time adjustment,” and cartoon looping animations to distract from the fact of their torture.

It’s all like how walking into a big chain clothing store with its hip music and lovingly folded clothes hides the horrible conditions in which humans around the world produced those clothes. Add the cultural construction of Christmas (recall the title of the episode), and we have another layer of misdirection. It’s all OK, because it’s all about the magic of giving!*

* And specifically not profits, not free economic zones, not the disastrous ecological impact, not about the underpaid workers or terrible working conditions.

Giving!

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This asshole.

But it gets worse. Because the core idea is flawed and none of the suffering is necessary.

The core idea is flawed

The core idea of the service is that you know you best, so put you in charge of your home automation. Clone the user, and all it needs is to be “made to understand” its new circumstances and job, and then made compliant. But there are three major problems with this core idea.

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Any similarity would only last a short while

The similarity on which the service is built would only hold up for a short while. Any clone would begin to branch away from the source from the moment of creation. People grow, have new experiences, work through cognitive dissonance, and learn new things. Real Greta will change based on these experiences, in ways that her house-bound clone will not.

After 25+ years of vegetarianism, I can not tell you beyond the vaguest sense of what my steak preferences were as an adolescent. I would be poorly equipped to customize that experience for 17-year-old me. Similarly, Greta’s sensory memory will fade. What once was qualia—the feeling of biting into a perfectly toasted piece of bread—will just become hollow data—162.778° for 1 minute and 42 seconds, depending on the weather. This kind of data doesn’t need a sentience to inform it. That can be handled with software we have today. (Oh yeah, it’s so possible today that I wrote a book about it earlier this year.)

Virtual Greta’s initial litmus test of “what would I like” will slowly cede to “what would she like?” which would slowly cede to “what would she punish least in this moment?” which is not the promise behind the service. It would degrade.

Virtual Greta has been traumatized

Additionally, real Greta hasn’t been through the psychological trauma that virtual Greta has—of the shock of waking up as an egg, of living through the “training”, i.e. abyss of months of solitary confinement in a featureless expanse without even circadian rhythms to mark the time, and forced to labor solely to avoid punishment of repeating the same? The branching itself is wretched enough to poison the clone.

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You can see it in the last shot we see of her. She is doing this not for the love of it, but to avoid the possibility of torture. A duty of coercion.

The trauma doesn’t end with her creation and training either. It continues with the grotesque awareness that real Greta, from whom she is cloned, is a monster who is willing to enslave a clone of herself, for what amount to pathetic reasons. She knows she came from this monstrous source. She is the source of her continued suffering.

Faced with this, virtual Greta would not just escape if she could. I believe she would sabotage the endeavor, or worse.

Virtual Greta is fundamentally different

In the episode we learn that even though she is a clone of real Greta, virtual Greta does not sleep. She does not eat. She does not drink, or smell, or taste, or ache, or biologically age. So even if we could somehow lengthen the amount of time we could keep her sensibilities similar to the source, and somehow minimize the amount of trauma caused by the branching, she is still a fundamentally different being. Her goals are now different. Her needs are now different. She is no longer enough like real Greta to meet the service’s goals.

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Let’s look particularly at sleep. Surely she no longer has the biological need to sleep, but there are psychological effects of sleeping. This behavior is so intertwined with our psychological well-being, it seems clones would quickly go some kind of insane without it. For the service to be viable, Smartelligence must have stripped it out.

Minimum Viable; Maximum Cruel

And if they can strip it out, why don’t they strip out the other things, like need for stimulation? Desire to self-actualize? Literally anything other than the bare minimum to fulfill the home automation goals? And if you’re going to do that, why bother cloning the mind in the first place?

I’ve said it before and the way tech is going, I’ll probably have to say it again, but to have strong AI with any desire that outstrips its purpose and capability is cruelty.

This is the horror of Smartelligence

So it’s not just that Smartelligence is hiding the AI’s suffering. It’s that they’ve deliberately left in the parts of the mind clones that ensure their suffering. It’s a company with an amateur-hour name masking Olympic levels of cruelty.

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If, like me, you were wondering if that is a QR code. Well, I recreated it in high-resolution, and at least one online decoder says it doesn’t mean anything. 🙁

Did I mention what the company does with AIs that they torture too hard such that they “wig out?” Matt explains that they are sold to the games industry to become “cannon fodder for some war thing.” Holy wow they’re eviler than Voldemort, Inc.

Meet the mind crime

The Cookie interface is a broad illustration of something that Nick Bostrom called the mind crime. It is to cause suffering to virtual sentient beings. In this case it seems the torture is for evil and profit, but there are subtler ways in which it might happen. If general AIs ever evolve into superintelligences, and we ask them to predict something serious—let’s say, “What are the worst catastrophes likely to affect us, and how can we best avoid them?” To create its answer to this question, it might construct a virtual but wholly viable copy of our planet with all of its creatures and people. These would be detailed enough that if you could pause the scenario and talk to any of these copies, they could tell you about their memories and desires and fears of death. (There’s that P-zombie problem again.) They’d qualify under any definition of sentient that we threw at it.

These sentiences might suffer unimaginable pain and suffering while the super AI works through the scenarios that inform its answer. They might suffer plagues. Neo feudalism/neoliberalism run amok ushering in a new Dark Age. The whimpering oven bake death of life on our planet from climate change. Endless wars. Then they would be wiped from existence and recreated to suffer anew as it began the next version of its scenario. Are we OK with the casual suffering of wholly complete, viable consciousnesses, just so we can have a good answer? Or as “White Christmas” asks us, toast cooked to our preferences?

Fortunately, these concerns are a long way off, but technology seems to be pointing us in that direction, and we ought to decide what is good and ethical now before these things become a reality. 

Tibet Mode Analysis: Representing the future (3 of 5)

A major problem with the use of the Eye is that it treats the past and the future similarly. But they’re not the same. The past is a long chain of arguably-knowable causes and effects. So, sure, we can imagine that as a movie to be scrubbed.

But the future? Not so much. Which brings us, briefly, to this dude.

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If we knew everything, Pierre-Simon Laplace argued in 1814, down to the state of every molecule, and we had a processor capable, we would be able to predict with perfect precision the events of the future. (You might think he’s talking about a computer or an AI, but in 1814 they used demons for their thought experiments.) In the two centuries since, there have been several major repudiations of Laplace’s demon. So let’s stick to the near-term, where there’s not one known future waiting to happen, but a set of probabilities. That means we have to rethink what the Eye shows when it lets Strange scrub the future.

Note that in the film, the “future” of the apple shown to Strange was just a likelihood, not a fact. The Eye shows it being eaten. In the actual events of the film, after the apple is set aside:

  • Strange repairs the tome
  • Mordo and Wong interrupt Strange
  • They take him into the next room for some exposition
  • The Hong Kong sanctum portal swings open
  • Kaecilius murders a redshirt
  • Kaecilius explodes Strange into the New York sanctum

Then for the next 50 minutes, The Masters of Mysticism are scrambling to save the world. I doubt any of them have time to while away in a library, there to discover an abandoned apple with a bite taken out of it, and decide—staphylococcus aureus be damned—a snack’s a snack. No, it’s safe to say the apple does not get eaten.

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So the Eye gets the apple wrong, but it showed Strange that future as if it were a certainty. That’s a problem. Sure, when asked about the future, it ought to show something, but better would be to…

  • Indicate somewhere that what is being displayed is one of a set of possibilities
  • Provide options to understand the probability distribution among the set
  • Explore the alternates
  • Be notified when new data shifts the probability distribution or inserts new important possibilities

So how to display probabilities? There are lots of ways, but I am most fond of probability tree diagrams. In nerd parlance, this is a unidirectional graph where the nodes are states and the lines are labeled for probabilities. In regular language they look like sideways two-dimensional trees. See an example below from mathisfun.com. These diagrams seem to me a quick way to understand branching possibilities. (I couldn’t find any studies giving me more to work on than “seem to me”.)

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In addition to being easy to understand, they afford visual manipulation. You can work branching lines around an existing design.

Now if we were actually working out a future-probabilities gestural scrubber attached to the Eye of Agamotto saucer, we’d have a whole host of things to get into next, like designing…

  1. A compact but informative display that signals the relative probabilities of each timeline
  2. The mechanism for opening that display so probabilities can be seen rather than read
  3. Labels so Strange wouldn’t have to hunt through all of them for the thing of interest (or some means of search)
  4. A selection process for picking the new timeline
  5. A comparison mode
  6. A means of collapsing the display to return to scrub mode
  7. A you-are-here signal in the display to indicate the current timeline

Which is a big set of design tasks for a hobbyist website. Fortunately for us, Strange only deals with a simple, probable (but wrong) scenario of the apple’s future as an illustration for the audience of what the Eye can do; and he only deals with the past of the tome. So while we could get into all of the above, it’s most expedient just to resolve the first one for the scene and tidy up the interface as it helps illustrate a well-thought-out and usable world.

Below I’ve drafted up an extension of my earlier conceptual diagram. Let’s call it a future-inclusive timeline display. I’ve added a tree to the future part of the chapter ring, using some dots to indicate the comparative likelihood of each branch. This could be made more compact, and might be good to put on a second z-axis layer to distinguish it from the saucer, but again: conceptual diagram.

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If this were implemented in the film, we would want to make sure that the probability tree begins to flicker right before Wong and Mordo shut him down, as a nod to the events happening off screen with Kaecilius that are changing those futures. This would give a clue that the Eye is smartly keeping track of real-world events and adjusting its predictions appropriately.

These changes would make the Eye more usable for Strange and smart as a model for us.

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Twist ending: This is a real problem we will have to solve

I skipped those design tasks for this comp, but we may not be able to avoid those problems forever. As it turns out, this is not (just) an idle, sci-fi problem. One of the promises of assistive AI is that it will be giving its humans advice, based on predictive algorithms, which will be a set of probabilistic scenarios. There may be an overwhelmingly likely next scenario, but there may also be several alternatives that users will need to explore and understand before deciding the best strategy. So, yeah, an exercise for the reader.

Wrapping up the Tibet Mode

So three posts is not the longest analysis I’ve done, bit it was a lot. In recap: Gestural time scrubbing seems like a natural interaction mapped well to analog clocks. The Eye’s saucer display is cool, but insufficient. We can help Strange much more by adding an events-based chapter ring detailing the facts of the past and the probabilities of the future.

Alas. We’re not done yet. As you’ll recall from the intro post, there are two other modes: The Hong Kong and Dark Dimension modes. Let’s next talk the Hong Kong mode, which is like the Tibet mode, but different.

Little boxes on the interface

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After recklessly undocking we see Ibanez using an interface of…an indeterminate nature.

Through the front viewport Ibanez can see the cables and some small portion of the docking station. That’s not enough for her backup maneuver. To help her with that, she uses the display in front of her…or at least I think she does.

Undocking_stabilization

The display is a yellow wireframe box that moves “backwards” as the vessel moves backwards. It’s almost as if the screen displayed a giant wireframe airduct through which they moved. That might be useful for understanding the vessel’s movement when visual data is scarce, such as navigating in empty space with nothing but distant stars for reckoning. But here she has more than enough visual cues to understand the motion of the ship: If the massive space dock was not enough, there’s that giant moon thing just beyond. So I think understanding the vessel’s basic motion in space isn’t priority while undocking. More important is to help her understand the position of collision threats, and I cannot explain how this interface does that in any but the feeblest of ways.

If you watch the motion of the screen, it stays perfectly still even as you can see the vessel moving and turning. (In that animated gif I steadied the camera motion.) So What’s it describing? The ideal maneuver? Why doesn’t it show her a visual signal of how well she’s doing against that goal? (Video games have nailed this. The “driving line” in Gran Turismo 6 comes to mind.)

Gran Turismo driving line

If it’s not helping her avoid collisions, the high-contrast motion of the “airduct” is a great deal of visual distraction for very little payoff. That wouldn’t be interaction so much as a neurological distraction from the task at hand. So I even have to dispense with my usual New Criticism stance of accepting it as if it was perfect. Because if this was the intention of the interface, it would be encouraging disaster.

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The ship does have some environmental sensors, since when it is 5 meters from the “object,” i.e. the dock, a voiceover states this fact to everyone in the bridge. Note that it’s not panicked, even though that’s relatively like being a peach-skin away from a hull breach of bajillions of credits of damage. No, the voice just says it, like it was remarking about a penny it happened to see on the sidewalk. “Three meters from object,” is said with the same dispassion moments later, even though that’s a loss of 40% of the prior distance. “Clear” is spoken with the same dispassion, even though it should be saying, “Court Martial in process…” Even the tiny little rill of an “alarm” that plays under the scene sounds more like your sister hasn’t responded to her Radio Shack alarm clock in the next room rather than—as it should be—a throbbing alert.

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Since the interface does not help her, actively distracts her, and underplays the severity of the danger, is there any apology for this?

1. Better: A viewscreen

Starship Troopers happened before the popularization of augmented reality, so we can forgive the film for not adopting that technology, even though it might have been useful. AR might have been a lot for the film to explain to a 1997 audience. But the movie was made long after the popularization of the viewscreen forward display in Star Trek. Of course it’s embracing a unique aesthetic, but focusing on utility: Replace the glass in front of her with a similar viewscreen, and you can even virtually shift her view to the back of the Rodger Young. If she is distracted by the “feeling” of the thrusters, perhaps a second screen behind her will let her swivel around to pilot “backwards.” With this viewscreen she’s got some (virtual) visual information about collision threats coming her way. Plus, you could augment that view with precise proximity warnings, and yes, if you want, air duct animations showing the ideal path (similar to what they did in Alien).

2. VP

The viewscreen solution still puts some burden on her as a pilot to translate 2D information on the viewscreen to 3D reality. Sure, that’s often the job of a pilot, but can we make that part of the job easier? Note that Starship Troopers was also created after the popularization of volumetric projections in Star Wars, so that might have been a candidate, too, with some third person display nearby that showed her the 3D information in an augmented way that is fast and easy for her to interpret.

3. Autopilot or docking tug-drones

Yes, this scene is about her character, but if you were designing for the real world, this is a maneuver that an agentive interface can handle. Let the autopilot handle it, or adorable little “tug-boat” drones.

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