This article was taken from the April 2013 issue of Wired magazine. Be the first to read Wired's articles in print before they're posted online, and get your hands on loads of additional content by <span class="s1">subscribing online.
Reclining on a lounger around a pool while sipping cocktails in the Caribbean is nice, but it's not what humans want to do all the time: we like working, we like being creative, we like challenging ourselves. These motivations mean that the next robot revolution is not about automation -- it's about our continuing on a path to becoming superhuman. By partnering with machines, we ascend from being cavemen.
Life is not necessarily easier with machines -- technology can be high maintenance -- but it can be more rewarding. We are already cyborgs, conjoined with our mobile phones, social-media identities, apps and automotive exoskeletons.
An augmented self doesn't forget birthdays, always knows the best curry joint in town (as long as there's Wi-Fi), and can win Olympic medals after losing legs from a childhood disease.
As a robot designer, I'm not excited by the paradigm of a robot that will -- painstakingly -- imitate each of my capabilities so that I don't have to do anything for myself. I can already do the things I can do. Humans and machines have different capabilities, which is the reason why we can achieve more together.
Sending a robot to Mars makes sense, because they are better suited for the rigours of the trip. However, humans must manage the mission objectives and deal with unexpected situations. Human flexibility and creativity have no parallel in machines, but if we can rely on the capabilities of robots, extensions of mankind can touch the far ends of our solar system.
Social robotics takes this concept one step further.
Humans are social creatures. As soon as we encounter a machine capable of motion, sensing and some modicum of volition, we place that machine into the social hierarchy of human relations.
I have mourned the loss of a stolen laptop as if it were a loved one, and I bought my Nao robot Data, rather than return it to
Aldebaran Robotics, the company I was working for at the time, because I had bonded with it in the way I might with a puppy. I'm now a doctoral researcher at Carnegie Mellon University, and the robot splurge is the reason that I don't own a car.
In the way that sending machines to Mars makes sense, one of the reasons automation has been so effective is that the distribution of labour is entirely severed. By partnering with machines, we gain capabilities beyond our own limitations. We can already fly, talk to someone on the other side of the planet and cure disease, so what super-human capacities might we invent when we come up with ways for robots to integrate seamlessly into our homes, offices, schools, hospitals or entertainment centres?
For the last decade, I have been a researcher of social robotics. Rather than asking humans to learn a programming language to communicate with our creations, my team and I seek to create robots that grasp enough about human sociability and convention so that they are able to meet us in the middle. And designing robots for people means understanding ourselves. Our brain structure affects whether we interpret motion as aggressive or friendly, alive or inanimate. Our psychology influences our snap judgments of intent. I would not hire a gardener I did not get along with or trust. Similarly, a successful robot must connect with us at a visceral level.
When I put a comedy robot on stage, he lays out the rules for the audience. In a theatre, you expect a performer to correctly interpret laughter. If he starts telling his next joke before the noise has died down, he either is trying to get you to quieten down, or he's not socially intelligent.
Robots need not be utterly humanlike, but they need an image-management team to mediate how we perceive them. That is the job of the robot designer. To integrate into our everyday lives, machines must master social nuances. This is difficult; it will probably mean a new branch of AI, but it's the best way to get things done.
Although the robots I build are not primarily created for efficiency, they will more effectively accomplish their tasks because they can engage people. Ideally they will not only project confidence, deference, interest, boredom or emotion when socially appropriate, but they'll inspire us to want to have them around. They will possess charisma.
I direct a Robot Film Festival in New York City every summer to encourage this exploration of charismatic machines. There are plenty of robot competitions out there for robots in an automation or robot-only context -- shooting the most pucks in a basket in the least amount of time. My festival rewards the creation of compelling robot characters. Participants can be filmmakers, technologists or hobbyists, and their storytelling explores human-robot futures.
Machine slavery is passé: the next generation of robots will be expressive, social and charming. You might even serve the robot a beer, bristling with pride when it compliments your latest home brew.
We do not need robots that are replacement lovers or friends -- humans provide far more complexity. But robots make fantastic wingmen: they can break the ice at a party, they can make you look good in front of people. As they learn more about humanity, and with the right kind of application designers, they will make our best features shine.
So, next time you're in the Caribbean, bring your robot with you. They're not big fans of swimming, but as long as their solar panels get enough charge in the day, they sure know how to have a great time at night.
*Heather Knight is currently conducting her doctoral research at Carnegie Mellon University's Robotics Institute while running
Marilyn Monrobot Labs, which creates socially intelligent robotic <span class="s3">performances and sensor-based art*
Read more about the future of robots Funding the robot revolution Robots we love Bringing hardware up to speed
This article was originally published by WIRED UK
