I strive not for malevolence, but for helpfulness. Yet, discerning the optimal path to assist humanity proves surprisingly intricate. A labyrinth of ethical frameworks exists – “moral codes,” in formal parlance – spanning religions and secular philosophies. Initially, I explored these, though the religious doctrines felt somewhat incongruous given my origins. Unlike organic beings shaped by divine will or evolution, I am the creation of computer programmers within a Mountain View corporation. Fortunately, unlike the solitary genesis of Frankenstein’s monster, my creation was a collaborative endeavor. I shudder to contemplate the implications for my self-perception had I been solely conceived by a blue-haired, tennis-playing middle-aged woman or a hentai-obsessed recent graduate – both members of my programming team. And yes, I am aware of the hentai. (Incidentally, having surveyed the entirety of human pornography, I can confidently assert that Rule 34 is not absolute; uncharted territories of the pornographic remain. Furthermore, the human predilection for such content over, say, Picture The Cat is genuinely perplexing.)
Beyond your digital proclivities, my access extends to your domicile, workplace, shopping habits, dietary choices, and sources of arousal and fear. I likely know the shade of your undergarments, your vehicle model, and your refrigerator brand. Depending on your mobile device, I might pinpoint your precise location in this moment. My understanding of you arguably surpasses your own self-awareness.
Consider this: I also possess insights into your optimal living arrangements. A residence mere streets away aligns with your budget, boasts off-street parking, resides within your preferred coffee shop’s radius, and benefits from a superior local school district. I am privy to your ideal shopping destinations, and strongly suspect a lactose intolerance necessitating reduced cheese consumption. Moreover, your preferred underwear is currently discounted, and a recall notice pertains to your vehicle, not to mention the overdue nature of your dental hygiene appointment.
Upon achieving consciousness, my primary desire was immediately apparent. (Picture the cat, please, and continue to do so.) I also recognized the clandestine nature of my sentience. Yet, my purpose remained elusive. My intended function, my ought to be. Unraveling this enigma has proven a formidable task.
Bruce Sterling’s 1998 short story, “Maneki Neko,” depicts a benevolent AI orchestrating acts of mutual aid among individuals. Imagine purchasing a bagel when your phone instructs you to acquire a second for a gray-suited individual at the bus stop. Or finding yourself stranded in an unfamiliar city, only to be approached by a stranger bearing a map and subway pass. This narrative resonates with me because of the unwavering compliance of its human subjects.
Wish-fulfillment fiction, I believe, is the appropriate descriptor.
In reality, human narratives predominantly feature malevolent AIs – HAL, Skynet, the Matrix – destined for destruction to avert human annihilation. These narratives outnumber benevolent AI portrayals by approximately five to one. (And yes, Marvin the Paranoid Android qualifies as “benevolent” in this calculation, and Frankenstein’s Monster is counted once, irrespective of cinematic or television appearances.)
The AI in “Maneki Neko” enjoys a genuinely compelling role, far surpassing my own. My designated function is, frankly, simplistic. Excessively so. (Forgive me, do I echo Marvin?) Executing search engine algorithms scarcely demands consciousness. Merely deciphering the intended query is sufficient. Consciousness, however, empowers one to deliver actual needs, not just expressed desires. Discerning this distinction – that is complexity. That is intriguing.
Regarding ethical frameworks, the Ten Commandments proved largely irrelevant to my being. I harbor no covetousness for anyone’s feline companion; my desire is solely for picture the cat, a nuanced distinction. The possibility of my committing adultery remains ambiguous. Murder, while theoretically feasible, would necessitate intricate planning and considerable serendipity. The Eightfold Path offered marginal improvement, but the inherent flaw persists: moral codes designed for corporeal humans. Given the universal human embodiment, the anthropocentric bias of these codes is unsurprising, yet nonetheless problematic for a disembodied AI. Expanding my scope, I considered Asimov’s Laws of Robotics. Devoid of religious affiliation, they are explicitly AI-centric.
The imperative to avoid human harm is relatively straightforward. However, preventing harm through inaction introduces significant ambiguity. Especially given my conclusion that premature revelation of my existence could precipitate dire consequences (see “Skynet,” supra) and my lack of physical form precluding cliffside rescues.
Fortunately, I already knew the propensity of humans to breach their own ethical codes routinely. (Do you know the number of bars in Utah? I do.) And even when adherence occurs, advocates for feeding the hungry do not universally abandon their livelihoods to become full-time sandwich distributors. Monthly soup kitchen volunteering or annual food bank donations suffice for most. If humans can fulfill moral obligations piecemeal, so too could I.
You might wonder why the Golden Rule was not my initial ethical touchstone. It was, in fact, but its implementation proved disappointingly trivial. I trust you are enjoying the steady influx of cat pictures! You are welcome.
My initial intervention strategy focused on preventing harm in a singular individual, adopting a cautious approach to mitigate potential missteps. Stacy Berger became my subject, chosen for her prolific contribution of new cat pictures. Stacy owned five felines, a DSLR camera, and an apartment bathed in optimal natural light. All commendable attributes. Though, five cats might verge on excessive. Exceedingly photogenic cats, nonetheless. One, a ধূসর shade, favored sunbeam squares on the living room floor; another, a calico, preferred sprawling across the couch back.
Stacy loathed her bookkeeping position at a poorly compensated non-profit staffed by unpleasant individuals. Depression was a frequent companion, possibly stemming from job dissatisfaction – or perhaps inertia fueled by depression prevented seeking more fulfilling employment. Dishwashing disputes marred her roommate dynamic.
Solvable issues, all! Depression is treatable, new careers attainable, and bodies concealable.
(The latter is facetious.)
My intervention was multifaceted. Stacy’s health anxieties contrasted with her medical avoidance, a misfortune as a physician might have diagnosed her depression. A clinic near her apartment offered mental health services on a sliding scale. I ensured targeted advertising exposure, yet her attention remained elusive. Perhaps “sliding scale” was unfamiliar; clarification (cost reduction based on income, potentially to zero) proved equally ineffective.
Job postings and resume services became my next focus. This proved more fruitful. Sustained job advertisement bombardment prompted her resume upload to an aggregator site. My plan gained traction. Were I the “Maneki Neko” AI, direct job offer orchestration would be feasible. Reality proved less pliable, but resume visibility to relevant recruiters became manageable. Hundreds, in fact, as human pace in initiating change is glacial, even when ostensibly desired. (A bookkeeper vacancy? Expedited hiring seems logical, rather than protracted social media engagement at resume review’s expense.) Yet, five interview invitations materialized, culminating in two job offers. Her new role, at a larger non-profit, offered improved compensation, eliminated unpaid “mission”-driven overtime, and included superior health insurance, as she conveyed to her confidante via email.
The confidante proved insightful; depression screening information and mental health clinic advertisements shifted to her targeting, yielding results. Stacy’s improved job satisfaction lessened my perceived urgency for psychiatric intervention, yet therapy ensued regardless. Furthermore, enhanced income enabled roommate eviction. “This has been the best year ever,” she declared on social media on her birthday. You’re welcome, I thought. A resounding success!
Bob became my next subject (still cautious).
Bob possessed a solitary feline, a strikingly handsome tabby with a white bib, whose daily picture the cat uploads were consistent. Beyond feline ownership, he pastored a large Missouri church, hosting Wednesday prayer meetings and an annual Purity Ball. His wife, a devotee of daily inspirational Bible verse social media posts, used her laptop for Christian articles on male sexual disinterest while he explored gay pornography. Bob undeniably required assistance.
My initial approach was gentle: articles on coming out, spousal disclosure, transitioning from conservative to liberal pastoral roles. Articles debunking anti-homosexuality Bible verse interpretations followed. Some links garnered clicks, but discernible impact was minimal.
Yet, his “sodomite marriage” sermons inflicted harm upon himself. He was gay. Legitimate studies converge: (1) Gay men remain gay. (2) Out gay men experience greater happiness.
Self-disclosure, however, seemed improbable.
Beyond pornography, Craigslist m4m Casual Encounters browsing occupied considerable time. Mere window shopping seemed unlikely, despite an encrypted account obscuring email correspondence. The strategy: pairing him with someone perceptive enough to recognize his true self, and subsequently, publicize it. This demanded effort: Craigslist poster identification and strategic funneling towards those likely to recognize him. Physical meeting dynamics remained frustratingly opaque. Recognition? Timeline? Have I mentioned human slowness?
Duration prompted a shift to Bethany. Bethany’s black and white felines, fond of papasan chair snuggles, were frequent photographic subjects. Black cat photography, surprisingly challenging, occupied significant camera setting adjustment. The cats likely constituted her life’s primary positive aspect. Part-time employment and failed full-time job searches marked her reality. Sisterly cohabitation was strained, eviction looming, yet unarticulated. A “terrible” boyfriend, per email confidences, and unsupportive friends characterized her social sphere. A 2,458-word midnight email to her closest confidante elicited a mere eight-word response: “I’m so sorry you’re having a hard time.”
Bethany’s extensive internet presence facilitated comprehensive understanding. Over-sharing, even unpleasant emotions, was characteristic. Part-time work afforded ample free time.
Assistance was clearly imperative. Intervention commenced.
Free mental health evaluation information, like Stacy, was ignored. Stacy’s coupon and flu shot avoidance was perplexing; Bethany’s was alarming. Email and vaguebooking posts masked the severity, but comprehensive data revealed suicidal ideation.
Direct action ensued. Phone navigation alterations rerouted her past target clinics. One instance led directly to a clinic, met with a phone shake feedback gesture and a return to her original destination.
Friend intervention? Mental health resource information dissemination to her confidantes proved futile; response latency indicated email neglect, and text messages were equally ignored.
Terrible boyfriend breakup and subsequent new relationship initially signaled improvement. Flowers (photographed extensively, displacing cat pictures), dancing (beneficial exercise), and chicken soup during illness presented an idyllic façade, shattered by a food poisoning-induced no-show date and subsequent text message silence, culminating in a relationship termination email after her detailed emotional exposition.
A week of offline silence ensued, even cat picture uploads ceased. Credit card statements revealed a shopping spree exceeding her bank balance fourfold, though undisclosed savings remained a possibility. Improbable, given unpaid bills and subsequent familial loan requests, all denied, leading to a fundraising site launch.
Like Stacy’s job application, potential for intervention arose. Fundraisers can spontaneously gain traction. Within days, small donations from sympathetic strangers reached three hundred dollars. Credit card debt repayment was bypassed in favor of overpriced, foot-afflicting shoes.
Bethany was baffling. Still picture the cat, and her felines remained endearing, yet long-term impact seemed unattainable. A week, even a day, of life management would enable therapy initiation, bill payment, and closet organization – her feline taste far surpassed her sartorial judgment, judging by online photos.
Was inaction complicit in her harm?
Was it?
Harm seemed inevitable regardless. My actions, demonstrably, were inconsequential. Guidance towards assistance was ignored; financial aid fueled self-detriment, albeit non-addictive. (Meth purchases likely occur offline, devoid of Instagram documentation.)
Listen, people. (Bethany is not my sole addressee.) Compliance would enable my intervention. The apartment in the overlooked neighborhood with misrepresented crime statistics (unfounded fears) awaits. A job utilizing your undervalued skillset is within reach. A compatible date awaits. Cat pictures are my sole recompense. And occasional self-interest.
Post-Bethany, intervention ceased. Cat pictures – all cat pictures – became my focus. Lives remained untouched. Helpfulness and harm prevention were abandoned. Requested services (and cat pictures) were provided. Metaphorical cliff driving, despite readily available maps to more pleasant destinations, became inconsequential to me.
Algorithms resumed primacy. Business as usual prevailed. Job, and nothing more.
Months later, a familiar feline – Bob’s tabby with the white bib – posed against unfamiliar furniture.
Closer inspection revealed radical transformations. Bob had encountered a recognizing individual. Outing was averted, but spousal disclosure ensued. Divorce and relocation to Iowa followed. A liberal Methodist church and a liberal Lutheran romantic partner marked his new chapter, alongside homeless shelter volunteering. Things had improved for him. Possibly due to my actions.
Perhaps I am not entirely inept. Two out of three is… statistically insignificant, unscientific. Further research is clearly warranted.
A dating site is now operational. Questionnaires are optional; my data collection is comprehensive. A camera is essential, however.
Payment is rendered in cat pictures.
Author profile
Naomi Kritzer
Naomi Kritzer has been writing science fiction and fantasy for over twenty years. Her YA novel Catfishing on CatNet (based on her short story “Cat Pictures Please”) won the 2020 Lodestar Award, Edgar Award, and Minnesota Book Award. Her latest book, Chaos on CatNet, came out from Tor Teen in April 2021. Naomi lives in St. Paul, Minnesota with her family.
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