The Red Planet, loyal Servants, and a Question
We are very fortunate, here in out-of-the-way New Mexico, to have regular access to some of the finest science lectures around. Los Alamos Labs has a lecture program, Sandia Labs scientists are everywhere, and there are many aerospace-related companies in the area. Seminars, symposia and conferences in space science and astrophysics are common.
One of the anchors for these lectures is the New Mexico Museum of Natural History, not only as a venue (nice big lecture hall with a Max screen, and a planetarium around the corner) but also as home to some of the lecture talent. One such is Dr. Larry Crumpler, volcanologist, Research Curator, and part of the team guiding the exploration rovers on Mars. (His wife is also with the Museum, and she is involved with the project mapping Venus. And yes, the "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" jokes fly fast and furious.)
Since Dr. Crumpler is on the team we have here had the inside track on the status of the Mars rover missions in regular updates, all of which we have attended. Dr. Crumpler and other members of the team have presented information which was sometimes only minutes old when the talk began. There is also a very nice full-scale mockup of one of the rovers at the Museum. (And our next-door-neightbor helped assemble and pack some of the equipment which is currently on the rovers.) So we have had a greater-than-average exposure to the rover program, and it was with eagerness we went to the 3-year update the other night.
That's right -- three years. The exploration rovers which had an optimal mission design of 90 days (and team members confide they would have been satisfied at 70) are still on Mars, moving around and doing science, three years later. Over-engineered to counter earlier NASA failures, the success of any mission predicated on the lifespan of the weakest link, the rovers are slowly wearing out but still forging ahead.
As I think of our two representatives on the Red Planet it is hard for me not to feel a warm avuncular pride in their accomplishments. There they are in that harsh environment (admittedly, one they are designed for -- does a penguin consider cold water harsh?), steadily increasing our knowledge about Mars and giving us new images of another planet. And as we get more images, it is interesting how my sense of the alien fades and familiarity grows; the images from Mars might be of the Sahara, and some of the rocky slopes look just like places I have visited in New Mexico. The more we get to see of it, the more it becomes possible we could think of Mars as a place to live... Every time I see the images of dust devils on Mars it gives me chills, not only because of the ineffable coolness that these are actually images from another planet, one with an atmosphere which helps sculpt it, but also because I have seen and been enveloped by just such dust devils here in the Southwest.
Image Courtesy NASA/JPL-CalTech
And it is difficult for me not to personify, even anthropomorphize, the two rovers. They are our agents, designed as much as possible to do what we might if we were there. They are exploring by human direction, but exploration is an indication of curiosity in living organisms and by association seems to be a characteristic of the rovers. They are acting in our service and in our stead -- the whole point of their design -- and it is easy to put myself "in their wheels" and imagine myself as they are, literally a planet apart, alone, but steadfastly continuing on their mission. I can feel the drag of Spirit's inactive wheel, the arthritis in Opportunity's arm; can feel both weariness and determination to continue. And I feel again that avuncular pride I mentioned before.
If I can feel this way about something which looks like a cross between a golfcart and a preying mantis, what will it be like when our robot servants become more humaniform? This is a question which has been asked many times in science fiction, and as our robotics technology improves and becomes more commonplace is a question we may be asking ourselves on a daily basis.
Image Courtesy NASA/JPL-CalTech
My first major exposure to the question was Isaac Asimov's I, Robot, a collection of stories all revolving around that theme. (Please disregard the movie of the same title, which shares a few character names but is otherwise quite detached from the sensibilities and themes of the original work, and in fact owes more to Williamson than Asimov.) Even in their primitive forms, Asimov's robots pose problems for society as they progress in our perceptions from pets to servants, and eventually to seeming like people. Many other works have examined the idea since: Simak's robotic factotum loyally serving one family over generations, Bradbury's story-telling androids which can seem more real than uninspired flesh-and-blood, the killing-machine-developing-a-soul arc of the Terminator movies. More recently, Spielberg's movie AI did a thoughtful and sometimes chilling job of making us consider just what it is that makes us individuals worthy of respect and protection.
Our exploration of space and the other planets will be largely robotic for some time to come. Robots will increasingly share our tasks here on Earth, and have already removed from us many dangerous or drudging tasks. Robots are becoming increasingly flexible, and electronics are improving to allow robots to act more autonomously.
What will it be like when they become more humaniform, when they not only work in factories but share our homes as companions and servants, when what we see when we look at them looks more and more like what we see when we look in the mirror? What will it be like when they seem less like machines, and more like individuals?
It's a good thing science fiction has been asking these questions about robots for a long time, because I for one don't want to be caught unprepared when they ask us.
postscript -- I once asked a scientist on the rover team if team members yielded to the temptation to personify the rovers. They were spending 14 hours a day dealing with each rover long-distance; if I could feel an attachment to the unit, surely the pull would be much stronger for them, especially with a team assigned to each rover.
He took a while to reply; I could tell he was composing a careful answer. He finally said, "Since we spend so much time with the rovers, and they are doing our work for us, and each one has a different situation and mission, it is easier to think of them as individuals. And... some members of the team... are a bit more likely to... imbue them with a personality."
Then he quickly went on to the next question.
One of the anchors for these lectures is the New Mexico Museum of Natural History, not only as a venue (nice big lecture hall with a Max screen, and a planetarium around the corner) but also as home to some of the lecture talent. One such is Dr. Larry Crumpler, volcanologist, Research Curator, and part of the team guiding the exploration rovers on Mars. (His wife is also with the Museum, and she is involved with the project mapping Venus. And yes, the "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" jokes fly fast and furious.)
Since Dr. Crumpler is on the team we have here had the inside track on the status of the Mars rover missions in regular updates, all of which we have attended. Dr. Crumpler and other members of the team have presented information which was sometimes only minutes old when the talk began. There is also a very nice full-scale mockup of one of the rovers at the Museum. (And our next-door-neightbor helped assemble and pack some of the equipment which is currently on the rovers.) So we have had a greater-than-average exposure to the rover program, and it was with eagerness we went to the 3-year update the other night.
That's right -- three years. The exploration rovers which had an optimal mission design of 90 days (and team members confide they would have been satisfied at 70) are still on Mars, moving around and doing science, three years later. Over-engineered to counter earlier NASA failures, the success of any mission predicated on the lifespan of the weakest link, the rovers are slowly wearing out but still forging ahead.
As I think of our two representatives on the Red Planet it is hard for me not to feel a warm avuncular pride in their accomplishments. There they are in that harsh environment (admittedly, one they are designed for -- does a penguin consider cold water harsh?), steadily increasing our knowledge about Mars and giving us new images of another planet. And as we get more images, it is interesting how my sense of the alien fades and familiarity grows; the images from Mars might be of the Sahara, and some of the rocky slopes look just like places I have visited in New Mexico. The more we get to see of it, the more it becomes possible we could think of Mars as a place to live... Every time I see the images of dust devils on Mars it gives me chills, not only because of the ineffable coolness that these are actually images from another planet, one with an atmosphere which helps sculpt it, but also because I have seen and been enveloped by just such dust devils here in the Southwest.
Image Courtesy NASA/JPL-CalTech
And it is difficult for me not to personify, even anthropomorphize, the two rovers. They are our agents, designed as much as possible to do what we might if we were there. They are exploring by human direction, but exploration is an indication of curiosity in living organisms and by association seems to be a characteristic of the rovers. They are acting in our service and in our stead -- the whole point of their design -- and it is easy to put myself "in their wheels" and imagine myself as they are, literally a planet apart, alone, but steadfastly continuing on their mission. I can feel the drag of Spirit's inactive wheel, the arthritis in Opportunity's arm; can feel both weariness and determination to continue. And I feel again that avuncular pride I mentioned before.
If I can feel this way about something which looks like a cross between a golfcart and a preying mantis, what will it be like when our robot servants become more humaniform? This is a question which has been asked many times in science fiction, and as our robotics technology improves and becomes more commonplace is a question we may be asking ourselves on a daily basis.
Image Courtesy NASA/JPL-CalTechMy first major exposure to the question was Isaac Asimov's I, Robot, a collection of stories all revolving around that theme. (Please disregard the movie of the same title, which shares a few character names but is otherwise quite detached from the sensibilities and themes of the original work, and in fact owes more to Williamson than Asimov.) Even in their primitive forms, Asimov's robots pose problems for society as they progress in our perceptions from pets to servants, and eventually to seeming like people. Many other works have examined the idea since: Simak's robotic factotum loyally serving one family over generations, Bradbury's story-telling androids which can seem more real than uninspired flesh-and-blood, the killing-machine-developing-a-soul arc of the Terminator movies. More recently, Spielberg's movie AI did a thoughtful and sometimes chilling job of making us consider just what it is that makes us individuals worthy of respect and protection.
Our exploration of space and the other planets will be largely robotic for some time to come. Robots will increasingly share our tasks here on Earth, and have already removed from us many dangerous or drudging tasks. Robots are becoming increasingly flexible, and electronics are improving to allow robots to act more autonomously.
What will it be like when they become more humaniform, when they not only work in factories but share our homes as companions and servants, when what we see when we look at them looks more and more like what we see when we look in the mirror? What will it be like when they seem less like machines, and more like individuals?
It's a good thing science fiction has been asking these questions about robots for a long time, because I for one don't want to be caught unprepared when they ask us.
postscript -- I once asked a scientist on the rover team if team members yielded to the temptation to personify the rovers. They were spending 14 hours a day dealing with each rover long-distance; if I could feel an attachment to the unit, surely the pull would be much stronger for them, especially with a team assigned to each rover.
He took a while to reply; I could tell he was composing a careful answer. He finally said, "Since we spend so much time with the rovers, and they are doing our work for us, and each one has a different situation and mission, it is easier to think of them as individuals. And... some members of the team... are a bit more likely to... imbue them with a personality."
Then he quickly went on to the next question.
posted by InsightStraight @ 9:32 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home